#when this happens I feel like a printer with a paper jam

[wafflebloggies]

that feel when your Love of a Thing (universe, character/s, scenario, etc.) gets Very Big but you have no specific thing you can think of to create or work on for it right now so you're just sat there like

[stllmnstr]

sure thing – part one.

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

part one word count: 12.9k

warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I’m SORRY, blonde boxer jungwon because yes I think that does warrant a warning, I had to split this into 2 parts because post block limit got me everyone say BOOOOO TUMBLR!!!!!!

note: this is what happens when you watch the no doubt music video and then also listen to too much chase atlantic. ALSO let me duck before the sacred monsters readers start throwing tomatoes at me I PROMISE I am working on part 4 I just... had this idea and it would not leave me alone. but cheers to another fantastic enhypen release (daydream and no doubt are both on repeat for meeeeee) and to my first jungwon fic. enjoy!

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An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

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The printer is jammed.

It takes a very exaggerated eye roll and an embarrassing amount of self control to refrain from kicking the damn thing. Besides, you’re pretty sure your previous wording was too kind. 

Because a more accurate depiction of the situation would be:

The printer is jammed. Again. 

You’re not sure which cruel deity is responsible for the creation of Monday afternoons, but you’re sure they’re laughing at you now. Dressed in business casual and praying against all odds that the clock hanging on the office wall will start ticking a little faster, you almost wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Spare you from your misery 

And it’s not like a jammed printer is the end of the world. From a logical, unbiased point of view, you’re sure it’s nothing but a small, easily solvable problem. 

But it’s four pm on a Monday afternoon and you’ve had back-to-back meetings since you clocked in at eight this morning. The only real break you had lasted twelve minutes. Most of which were spent dabbing coffee stains from your blouse after Terry from accounting knocked into you in the staff kitchen. 

Your head is pounding and your feet are aching and your bladder is overly full and your left bra strap is starting to dig into your shoulder in a way that is entirely too overstimulating. 

And you really, really just need this report to print. 

After all, your boss made it very clear that you would not be clocking out for the day, no matter what hour of the evening it is, until said document is laid on his desk. Never mind the fact that you weren’t made aware of this demand until a handful of hours ago. 

So yeah, the printer jamming – again – does kind of feel like the end of the world. 

The screen is still flashing with an angry reminder to fix the paper jam in Tray 2. The instructions are starting to blur a little as you furiously blink away hot tears. 

You won’t cry at work. You won’t.

But your exhaustion is catching up with you, and the first thing it usually takes with it is your control over your emotions. 

The more you try to will them away, the more insistently they want to escape. 

Bent over the printer, you’re in the middle of trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn piece of A4 when the first tear finally does escape. It falls in a thick, wet train down the length of your cheek, settling for a moment at the base of your chin before dripping, a little pathetically, right onto the stack of papers in the printer tray. 

Your hands go slack on the sheet you’re warring with. 

For a moment, all you can do is sigh. Hang your head and hope some higher power takes pity on you. 

Stressed, burnt out, overworked. This was not how you thought you’d be spending your early twenties. But a salary is a salary, and fighting with an inanimate object on the worst day of the week keeps your lights on and your stomach full. 

Hunched over, you’re suddenly glad that the printer is kept in a separate room outside of the main office space. That there are no witnesses to your slightly pathetic meltdown.

Save for a few, it’s not like you care all that much about what your coworkers think of you. But the last thing you need to add to this day is a fresh bout of humiliation. 

Just one more minute, you tell yourself. One more minute of silence before you pull yourself together and finish dislodging the stupid piece of paper. 

It must be at least 4:10 by now, which means you have less than an hour to go. You can do it. You can. You just need one more minute of silen–

“Everything okay?” 

The sudden intrusion is so startling that your head jerks up in a subconscious reaction. Only, of course, to be met with the open printer tray you’re currently trying to troubleshoot. 

The clunk that echoes through the tiny printer room as your temple comes in direct contact with hard plastic is almost as loud as it is painful. 

“Ah,” you wince, hand instinctively flying to the side of your head. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, ____.” You’re not sure if your hesitation comes from embarrassment or the fact that you head is still spinning. Either way, you’re slow to move as you look up at your sudden audience. 

Over your shoulder, Yang Jungwon has nothing but apologies written all over his delicate features. Brow pulling into a concerned frown, he’s quick to kneel to your level. 

If anyone was going to find you like this, you suppose you’re glad it was him. A recent hire fresh out of university, Jungwon has carved out a quiet kind of reputation for himself in the office. 

His presence isn’t commanding, but it is steady. The kind of person that you never see get worked up or angry or even annoyed no matter how many last minute deadlines are assigned or how many printers get jammed when he really needs to use them. 

And from what you’ve gathered, he mostly keeps to himself. It’s not from a lack of effort on your coworkers’ behalf. You know firsthand that he’s been invited to multiple post work gatherings and weekend events. 

His popularity doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even with his quiet demeanor, he has a striking presence. One that makes you curious, leaves you wanting to know more. 

Never mind the fact that he’s absolutely gorgeous. 

Still, despite their efforts, you also know that he’s politely declined each and every invitation without ever giving any real explanation. 

In all honesty, you’ve always just assumed there was a girlfriend he was eager to run home to. 

But even that is nothing more than a mindless assumption. After all, you’ve only had a few interactions with him, and nothing beyond the typical small talk all office workers develop a talent for. 

Even now, he makes the simple button down and slacks he’s wearing look like they came right from a runway. 

You’re not quite sure why, but it almost makes you want to cry harder. 

At the very least, you’re pretty sure you don’t need to worry about rumors of you having a minor meltdown in the printer room spreading through the office. Jungwon might be a hot topic of office gossip, but he’s not one to spread it.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His words are spilling out a bit too fast, blurring into each other around the edges. “I just saw you in here, and I couldn’t tell if you were okay or not, so I wanted to–”

“Jungwon,” you interrupt. There’s no kind way of telling him that his rambling is only making your headache worse. That it’s only making your tears fall faster. Instead, you abet his misplaced guilt. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

A bit shakily, you muster up your most convincing smile. But your smudged mascara, slightly puffy eyelids, and still visible tear track suggest otherwise. 

Jungwon’s brow just pulls together a little further. “Are you sure?” He’s unconvinced. Taking a wary glance at the printer tray, he looks back to you with concern in his eyes. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“Really,” you force another weak smile. “I’m sure.”

“Can I at least take a look at it?” Guilt is still written plain as day across his face. 

Assuming he’s referring to the printer, you nod before taking one big scooch to the side. Within the confines of this tiny room, it only puts you closer to him. 

And it takes less than a second for you to realize your assumption was wrong. Because Jungwon doesn’t reach for that stupid piece of A4 still jammed inside Tray 2 or even the printer tray that just nearly concussed you. 

No, instead, his long fingers trek a steady path towards your hand. The one that still rests against your temple. Gently, he pries it away, replacing it with his own careful touch.

You’re all but immobile as gentle fingers press lightly against the side of your face, adjusting it slightly. His fingers are cool, soothing as he turns your injury towards the overhead light. 

Pliant in his hands, it’s all you can do to watch as his brow furrows in concentration, eyes scanning over your skin. Taking the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth, you pray he doesn’t notice the sudden heat in your cheeks. 

From this angle, with this proximity, you can practically count his eyelashes. They’re long, you notice. Long and wispy where they frame his dark eyes. 

“No broken skin,” he finally asserts. You can feel his breath against your skin. It takes nearly all your concentration to suppress the shiver that threatens to trace your spine. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it bruises. There’s a bit of swelling, too. Keep an eye on it these next few days, and let me know if it doesn’t go down on its own.” 

You’re not exactly sure if Jungwon – quiet, gentle Jungwon – would be the first person you’d go to for first aid advice, but you nod anyway. 

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden urge to cry again. But somewhere between the pain in your head and the soft probing of his fingers against your skin, emotions are starting to bubble beneath your stoic facade. 

It’s subtle, barely perceivable, but you can feel your bottom lip beginning to quiver. 

Much to your unending humiliation, you’re not the only one who notices. 

You’re not sure how he does, but he does. 

“Hey,” Jungwon tries. His hand is still on your face. His voice is impossibly soft, and it only makes you want to cry harder. You feel like a skittish kitten he’s trying to lure in from a rainstorm. 

His lips part as if he’s going to continue. They fall shut again before he can. 

Something in his brow softens. Concern is replaced with empathy. 

Hand falling back to his side, he suddenly changes the subject. “You’re in the marketing department, right?”

Lips still trembling, you turn your eyes towards the floor before giving him a small nod.  

From this angle, the only thing you see are his shoes. Standard leather work shoes, they’re slightly scuffed where they rest against the carpet. 

They still look formal, of course. Nothing that would raise any eyebrows in a professional setting. And from far away, you’re sure they appear pristine. 

But from this close, you can make out all sorts of rough edges. Little marks and dents and scuffs that serve as evidence of where he’s been. 

“Why don’t you head home for the day,” Jungwon suggests gently from above you. “I’ll let your team and your supervisor know that you’re not feeling well.” 

You take a deep breath, do your best to make sure your voice is steady before you respond. Shaking your head, you point out, “It’s almost the end of the day anyway–”

“Exactly,” Jungown nods, kind but firm. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Actually,” you grimace, trying not to let the truth inspire another round of tears. “I need the report I was trying to print. I have to turn it in before I leave today.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re worried that Jungwon will keep offering you too much kindness, so you rush to fill it. “It’s fine, though. I think the paper jam is almost fixed, and I already sent the report to the printer, so I’m sure it will come through in a minute–”

“Perfect,” Jungwon interrupts again. “I’ll take it to your boss, then. Alan, right? I’ve spoken with him before. I’ll also let him know that you went home for the day.”

“Jungwon, you don’t have to–”

“I know.” At the interruption, your eyes snap back to him. There’s an intensity in his eyes when you match his gaze. Something so sincere that it’s hard to look away. Even though you know your eyes are still shiny with tears you wish you’d hidden better. Even if the stress and exhaustion and weariness are probably written plain as day across your features.

“I know,” he repeats. “I want to. Go home and get some rest, okay?”

It’s probably stupid, to agree so easily. But something in his eyes has you believing, even if just for a moment, that everything will be just fine if you do what he suggests. That all of your concerns and worries will work themselves out and you’ll be able to come into the office tomorrow feeling refreshed for once. For the first time in a long time. 

So you nod. You let him help you up off the floor and don’t bother hiding your face as you wipe the last of your unshed tears from your eyelashes. It probably only smudges your mascara further, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about that, either. 

The printer is still jammed and your report isn’t turned in and you’ll have to walk past your entire team back to your desk to get your things on your way out. 

But for this fleeting moment, those worries feel small. Distant. Manageable. Able to be tucked away and saved for later. 

You still don’t know much about Jungwon. The only knowledge you have comes from speculation and wishful thinking. But now, more than ever, you really wish you knew something of substance. 

But you have no idea how to tell him that. Don’t know if you even should. So instead, you say what you can. 

“Thank you, Jungwon.”

For a moment, all he does is smile. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. Makes them sparkle a little brighter. 

His voice, like the rest of him, is gentle when he says, “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

Despite the fact that it accounts for roughly eighty percent of your job, you prefer to avoid your email inbox like the plague. 

Most days, by the time you do get around to checking it, it’s already jam packed with unreasonable requests and last-minute changes and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. 

When you sit down at your desk on Tuesday morning, you’re extra reluctant. After the printer fiasco yesterday, you’re feeling particularly sensitive to all of the potential bullshit. And you have the distinct feeling that a rather nasty message about leaving the office early unannounced is surely waiting for you. 

But the inevitable can only be delayed so long. With a wince and a final swig of coffee, you muster the courage to give the mail icon on your desktop a double click. 

The top of your inbox is filled with the usual nonsense. A request for a meeting tomorrow morning on a project idea you’ve had finalized for months. An RSVP form for the optional, but highly encouraged, upcoming staff party. A reminder from your boss that final quarterly reports need to be submitted by Friday at the latest. 

A few lines down, though, something out of the ordinary catches your eye. Checking the time stamp, you see that it was sent right as the day started. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Contemplating for a moment, you frown. The first floor of Vesselsoft is no stranger to printer jams. They’re typical occurrences, not major problems to be resolved via email. You didn’t think there was a printer issue to follow up on. 

But it’s far more intriguing than anything else on your work account. So, ignoring all of the other messages, you open the email from Jungwon. 

Good morning ____, 

I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to let you know that the workroom printer jam has been fixed, and your report was delivered safe and sound yesterday evening. I also wanted to check in and see how your head is feeling. 

Best, 

Jungwon

You reread it. Once. Twice. 

It’s a simple message, all things considered. But it has you searching for subtext where there likely isn’t any. If anything, this serves as a confirmation of what you already knew about Jungwon. 

He’s kind. Considerate. The type of person that would help you fix a jammed printer and check in on you the next morning. Right when he clocks in. 

The type that could probably tell that your head was the least of your concerns yesterday, but still chooses to ask how you’re doing  without drawing excess attention to it. 

For a moment, you almost wish he would make a habit of attending after hours work events. You have the distinct feeling that sucking up to your superiors would be a little less awful if someone like him was around to do it with you. 

From: You

To: yangj@vesselsoft.co

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Good morning Jungwon, 

Thank you for resolving that printer issue! And thank you for checking in. My head is feeling much better today. 

Thanks again, 

____

After a final once over, you press the send button, watching as the animation shows the message flying out from your inbox. 

You imagine it flying into his. It’s subconscious, the way you start to picture what his face will look like when he sees it. 

You know he’s in the programming department, which is on the same floor as your office. Honestly, you’re a bit surprised you haven't seen him around more. 

Will he smile, you wonder. Will he have that same, gentle fondness in his eyes he seems to carry with him everywhere?

You don’t get an answer to that particular question, but you do learn that Jungwon is an incredibly prompt communicator. 

It’s barely been ten minutes before your inbox is chiming again. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Re: Printer Issue Follow-Up

Sure thing, ___. Glad to hear it. 

Jungwon

You can’t hide the small smile that threatens to turn the corners of your lips upward. It’s not like he’s done anything particularly groundbreaking. But even bits of kindness have become a bit of a rarity for you these days.

You can’t think of anyone else in the office that would insist on sending you home thirty minutes early and offer to finish up your work for you. You can’t think of anyone else who would have navigated yesterday’s fiasco with as much gentle care as he did.

You can’t remember the last time someone bothered to consider you. To lighten your load when they noticed you starting to sink under the weight of it. 

So you’re smiling. Despite the fact that it’s still a Tuesday morning and you have a long week ahead of you. Despite the fact that you’re still very much locked into a job you mostly despise. 

Mentally, you make a note to give some gesture of your gratitude. To do something that will brighten his day a bit, too. 

But you don’t know him. Don’t know how he takes his coffee or if he has a favorite brand of ballpoint pen or if he could use an extra favor from someone in the marketing department. All the sorts of things that coworkers do to show a little bit of appreciation. 

But the universe, at least in part, seems to be on your side today. 

When you head into the staff kitchen for your mid-morning coffee refill, you find it already occupied. 

It’s a bit ridiculous, the way you suddenly feel flustered. Have the urge to smooth your hair, fix your blouse. 

He has his back turned to you, and it takes you nearly half a minute of contemplation to decide whether or not to say something. In the end, the decision is made for you. 

Your phone lights up with an urgent request that you check over the second half of the report you – well, Jungwon – submitted last night. 

Sighing, you turn away from the kitchen. Your second cup of coffee, and a conversation with a certain programmer, will just have to wait. 

You do, however, notice one last thing before you go. Watching silently, you can’t help but smile a bit as you watch Jungwon add two sugar packets to his mug. 

Sweet, you think. Just like him. And now you have at least one bit of information to work with. 

After submitting the edits on your report, you decide to use your recently earned knowledge. Deciding that he’s worth the splurge, you open the delivery page of the cafe down the street, the one that’s ridiculously overpriced but undoubtedly makes the best coffee in the area. 

And when you order it in his name, a hot coffee with two sugars, you ask the barista to attach a note. 

Thank you again for yesterday. I hope this is how you like your coffee! 

An hour later, your inbox chimes with another message. 

From: yangj@vesselsoft.co 

Subject: Thank You

You’re too kind, ____. Thank you for the coffee. How did you know just how I like it?

All the best, 

Jungwon

If his words make you smile a little too hard, well, you figure no one ever has to know. 

The universe, however, would seem to have other plans. 

Of everyone in the marketing department, you find your coworker Grace to be the most bearable. A few years older than you, she was by far the most welcoming when you joined the team. 

And you have the sneaking suspicion she has just as much disdain for your supervisor as you, even if the two of you have never openly discussed it. 

Unfortunately, she does have the fatal flaw of never being able to finish her work day without getting herself involved in someone else’s business. For the most part, you’re spared from her nosiness. 

Mostly because your life doesn’t carry the same flair for drama that she loves most. But today, she decides to give it a shot anyway. 

Standing behind your office chair, she nearly startles you out of your seat when she asks, “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Closing the email as quickly as you can, you turn to face her. 

“No one.” It’s too rushed, too evasive. She sees right through it. 

“Mhmm.” 

Heat rising in your cheeks, you double down. “No, really.” Scrambling for a lie, your eyes land on one of your desk photos. One that shows your childhood cat, affectionately named Mr. Snuggles by your elementary school self. “I just heard from the vet that my cat is feeling a lot better. I was worried she was really sick.”

It’s a bold faced lie. Mr. Snuggles has been dead since your third year of high school. 

“Ah,” Grace says. Her features fall slightly as she realizes she won’t be getting a worthy scoop from you. Realizing that’s probably not an appropriate reaction, she forces a smile. “That’s great! I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you nod, hoping it will mark the end of the conversation. 

But Grace isn’t quite ready to let it go. “That does remind me, though. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Uh oh. 

“You’re not seeing anyone, right?” You’re not sure how a sick cat would remind her of your dating life, but you suppose there are larger mysteries to be solved. 

And on second consideration – oh. Is it really that obvious? “No,” the syllable drags as you attempt to tread carefully. “Why?”

Grace shrugs, but the conversation feels more calculated than nonchalant. “I was at my friend’s baby shower a couple of weeks ago, and her younger brother just moved back to the city. He’s been living abroad since high school. He’s around your age and a total catch. I didn’t talk to him much, but he reminded me of you a bit. I think the two of you would get on.” 

“Oh,” is all you say. Your uncertainty must be written all over your features, because Grace is quick to continue.

“No pressure, of course. But let me know if you’d like me to pass his number along.”

Do you? It’s been ages since you went on a date. And even longer since you went on a date with someone you’d describe as a total catch. 

And apparently, your single-ness is painfully visible to the people around you if Grace was able to pick up on it so easily. 

Besides, it might be nice, you think. To have a conversation with someone that isn’t about quarterly reports or upcoming deadlines or jammed printers. 

But then your mind wanders to the last conversation you had about a jammed printer. To a set of pretty, dark eyes and a pair of gentle hands. 

To a string of email conversations that don’t really mean anything. But you almost wish they did. 

It’s messy, you think. Far from ideal. JUngwon might not be in your department, but he still works just down the hall. Inter company relationships aren’t forbidden, but they do carry a certain amount of risk.

Jungwon isn’t petty. He wouldn’t make your life a living hell if things were to end badly. But you might start feeling awkward in the staff kitchen and you might have to start timing your walks to the parking lot so that they don’t coincide with his.

Small adjustments. Minor inconveniences more than anything.

Besides, it’s all conjecture. 

You can count the conversations you’ve had with Jungwon on your fingers, and the majority have been channeled through your work email. 

It’s hardly romantic. 

But even as you try to see things from a detached, logical perspective, one thought keeps swimming back to you.

You think you could talk about jammed printers forever, as long as it was with him. 

Sighing, your heart can’t decide if it wants to sink to your stomach or crawl up your throat at the realization. 

Turning back to Grace, you just offer her a tight smile. “I’ll let you know.”

…..

In the coming weeks, your coincidental run-ins with Jungwon start to become more and more frequent. 

First, it’s the two of you just so happening to need a coffee refill at the same time. When your path cross in the staff kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at the sugar packets he adds to his mug and he shakes his head as you take a long sip of your plain, bitter drink of choice. 

Then, it’s the morning in the parking lot when the two of you just so happen to arrive at the same time, pulling into adjacent parking spots. His smile is gentle, albeit a bit sleepy, when he bids you, “Good morning.” 

Your heart flutters a bit when you return the sentiment. You do your best to ignore it. 

Next, you stumble across him in the staircase on an otherwise quiet afternoon. This time, however, he’s already deep in another conversation. Or, you realize at second glance, trying very hard to wiggle his way out of another conversation. 

For all intents and purposes, Jenna from the legal department is a sweet girl. A bit overbearing at times and doesn’t always take well to being told no, but she’s harmless for the most part. Smart and driven and you admit a little glumly, quite pretty. 

Even underneath the overhead fluorescents in the stairway, she manages to avoid looking washed out. 

They’re already talking by the time you get there, and the only thing you catch is the tail end of their rather one-sided conversation. 

“It’s a great place, really,” Jenna insists, smiling a little too brightly. “And the food is to die for. They’re always running really unique specials. I think you’d really like it.”

And you could just turn around and pretend not to have seen anything. You could just take the elevator instead. In fact, you probably should. 

But suddenly, it’s as if your shoes have been filled with lead. Feet frozen to the earth, all you can do is watch. 

“Oh,” Jungwon reaches for the back of his neck. “Thanks for thinking of me, Jenna, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“Oh, really?” she pouts. “Is there another night that would work bett–”

“Jungwon!” Your voice is too loud, reverberating off the walls of the stairway in a way that has two pairs of eyes immediately darting towards you. And interrupting had seemed like a good idea a few seconds ago, but now you realize your fatal mistake. 

You have no plan. No idea what to say next. 

Still, you force a smile. “Just the person I was looking for.”

You don’t think you’re imagining it, the immediate wash of relief that colors Jungwon’s features. 

“Hey, ___,” Jenna waves, a bit dejectedly. She doesn’t exactly look pleased to see you, and you can’t really blame her. “Could you give us a minute? I was just in the middle of–”

“Sorry, Jenna,” you shake your head. “This is kind of urgent.”

“Right,” Jungwon nods, looking at you again. “We’d better go then.”

“But I–”

“See you around, Jenna.” You’re tone is too bright as you spin around, making a beeline back towards the door. A flicker of satisfaction warms in your chest when you realize Jungwon is right on your heels. 

He waits until the two of you are back in the empty hallway, closed door serving as a barrier between you and Jenna, before he speaks. 

Looking at you, he quirks his head to the side. “So, what’s the urgent thing you need help with?”

Oh. Right. 

Sighing, you decide honesty, or at least partial honesty, might be your best bet. 

“Sorry,” your smile is sheepish, “did I read that wrong? There’s nothing urgent. I just…” you trail off, searching for the words. “It just looked like you might have needed an exit.”

For a moment, he says nothing. The silence gives your mind too much room to spin

Maybe you did read things wrong. Maybe he was enjoying a perfectly pleasant conversation with perfectly pleasant Jenna. Maybe he was looking forward to going to a nice restaurant with her and trying all sorts of unique specials and–

“Thank you.”

“What?”

Jungwon’s eyes soften. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost describe his expression as… fondness. “An exit,” he clarifies. “I did need one. So thank you.”

“Right.” Your voice is suddenly breathless, and you can’t think of a good excuse for it. Feigning a nonchalance you don’t feel, you wave off his gratitude, “Anytime.” 

“Careful,” Jungwon warns, but the same hint of teasing, the same glimmer of affection, is still there. “I just might take you up on that.” 

“It’s a good thing I meant it, then.”

Jungwon’s features soften into a smile. A small one, meant just for the two of you. Reaching up, he pushes a stray strand of hair from his eyes. 

It’s only natural that you follow the movement. His hands are nice, you think. Long, lithe fingers, and–

You frown, eyes zeroing in on the knuckles of his right hand. 

Bruises, you realize. Dark, purple bruises span the length of his knuckles. Angry and mottled and from what you can tell, recent. 

And so many. You can’t imagine what he could have possibly done to earn them. 

Gaze still trained on the injury, your eyes widen. “Are you okay?”

It’s Jungwon’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“Your hand,” you nod at it. “Are those bruises?”

“Oh.” He shrugs, brushes it off like it’s nothing. But his hand falls to his side, obscured from your sight, all the same. “Yeah, I just slipped the other day trying to hang a picture in my apartment. The frame caught me funny when it fell.”

“You… slipped.”

Your disbelief must be apparent, because Jungwon is quick to add, “My hand slipped, really. My phone started ringing, and it caught me off guard.”

“Ouch,” you grimace. “That sounds like it hurt.”

Again, Jungwon shrugs. But his eyes are doing that thing again. Sparkling. “It’s not so bad.”

“Still,” you insist. “You should be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. It’s just the two of you, alone in a dimly lit hallway. His gaze is trained on yours. The distance between you is respectable, appropriate. Suggests that the two of you are coworkers and nothing more. But you have the distinct feeling that he’s not entirely talking about hanging pictures when he says, “I probably should.”

…..

The next morning, Grace is the first person you see as you walk into the office. And she’s already waiting for you. As soon as you come in, she hands you a coffee with an apologetic smile. 

“Uh oh.” You hang your coat, accepting the cup from her hands. It’s not unusual to receive coffee from a coworker, but it usually comes as a form of consolation. “What’s this for?”

“It’s from Alan, actually.”

Your lips flatten. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s not that bad, really.” Grace’s smile is less than convincing. “He just wants us all to get together this Friday night after work at that bar down the street. Y’know, to network.”

You groan internally. There go your plans for a relaxing Friday at home. 

“How is it networking if it’s just our team? We see each other every day.”

“That’s the other part,” Grace nods towards the cup in your hand. “Didn’t you notice he pulled out all the stops? That’s from the shop down the road. The one that charges eleven dollars for a small latte.”

“Oh god,” you groan, this time audibly. “What else does he want?”

“We’ve all been strongly encouraged to invite people from different teams around the company.”

You suppress a strong urge to roll your eyes. “Of course we have.”

Privately, you think that if Alan wants to network so bad, he should be responsible for creating the guest list himself. Outwardly, you just sigh. 

As if you didn’t have enough on your plate already. Now you need to schmooze some other poor employee into wasting their Friday night talking about work. 

Sitting down at your desk, you take a sip of your coffee. It is admittedly delicious. The thought only makes you want to bang your head on your keyboard even more. 

The problem of finding a plus one follows you all the way through the afternoon. All the way to the workroom, where you once again stumble into a certain blonde programmer that’s beginning to feel like part of your daily routine. 

This time, Jungwon is alone. 

He’s frowning at the printer, brow furrowed. 

“Don’t tell me it’s jammed.” 

When he sees that it’s you, his features immediately soften. He smiles and something tugs at your heart. It’s enough to have you forgetting about Friday night, even if just for a moment. 

“No, thankfully. My computer just doesn’t seem to want to connect to this printer.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Send it to me, and I’ll try printing from mine.”

Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll just go up to the accounting department and try their printer.”

“Jungwon,” you level him with a look. “You are the last person to be telling me I don’t have to do you a favor. It’s really no problem. Just send it over.”

“Okay,” he finally relents. 

Waiting for it to ping through on your end, an idea suddenly strikes you. You’re not sure if it’s a good one or if your judgment is starting to be warped by all of the toner cartridge fumes, but here, in a quiet workroom with nothing but Jungwon and a half-working printer to keep you company, you find a bit of your bravery. 

“I know this probably isn’t your idea of a perfect evening,” you start. Your words feel too loud in this tiny space. “But the marketing team is getting together after work for drinks this Friday night. We’re also encouraged to branch outside of our department and invite other company employees, so if you’re free, we’d love to have you.” The more you say, the worse it sounds to your own ears. Why would anyone, much less Jungwon, want to come to a work event for the marketing team. Suddenly embarrassed you even brought it up, you find yourself rambling. “The bar is actually pretty nice. It’s not super fancy or anything, but it has, uh, really great chandeliers. It’s a nice ambience, and–”

“___.” Jungwon interrupts with the sound of your name. 

“Yeah?” You’re trying not to sound too hopeful, but you have the distinct feeling that you fail miserably. Despite your hesitance, you realize something. 

You want him to say yes. 

You want him to give you a different response than he gives everyone else. A different response than he gave Jenna. 

You want him to say yes, even though no one wants to go to a work event for the marketing team on a Friday night. 

You want him to say yes anyway, because it’s you. 

“I’d love to, really.” He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck. “But I’m busy Friday night.”

Short. Succinct. To the point. He doesn’t spare any extra details. 

You already knew it was a long shot. But it stings all the same. 

You wanted to be the exception to the rule. Someone that would finally get him to say yes. Or at the very least, someone he would bother to give an actual reason for his absence to. 

“Oh.” Your voice is smaller than you mean for it to be. “Of course!” And now it’s too loud, too bright. You can’t find the happy medium, can’t find your natural tone. “I’m sure whatever it is will be way more fun, anyway.”

Jungwon just gives you a small smile, not bothering to affirm or refute your assumption. Not deigning to add any more details. 

It kind of makes you wish that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Well, I should probably get back to my desk.” You don’t know why you’re scrambling for excuses. Jungwon clearly doesn’t feel the need to provide any. “Did everything print okay?” You nod towards the small stack of papers in his hands. 

Jungwon is still looking at you. His lips part, as if he wants to say something. Brow creased, it’s as if he’s at war with himself. As if he can’t decide what to say or how to say it. 

After a beat, his mouth falls shut again. He gives a minute shake of his head. You watch as his hair sways in time with the movement. 

“Yeah,” he tells you. But he still hasn’t bothered to look down at the document between his fingers. “Everything printed fine.” 

“Okay.” You nod again. “Good.” Your voice sounds hollow in your ears. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.”

I’ll see you around?

I’ll see you around?

It takes all of your willpower not to cringe outwardly. It’s the most awkward, stilted thing you could have possibly said, but you’re not sure how else to fill the stifling silence. 

“Of course,” Jungwon nods. “Have a good day, ____.” The worst part is that he looks like he genuinely means it. “And enjoy your Friday night.”

“Right.” Your smile is feeble, doesn’t reach your eyes. “You too.” 

You’re so caught up in your own humiliation that you don’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes either. “Sure thing.”

…..

Changing your clothes in the last stall of the office bathroom kind of feels like a new low for you. But by the time Friday evening comes around, the last thing you want to do is attend a mandatory – scratch that, highly encouraged – work event at a bar still wearing your blazer and slacks. 

The jeans and sweater you replace them with are still nice by any standard, but they’ll feel a bit less stifling after a handful of drinks. 

Grace, at least, seems to have the same idea. Deciding she’s by far the most bearable person of the evening, you slide down next to her in the booth. 

Of course, that thought only makes you think of another person you’d invited. Someone whose absence feels especially notable as you nurse the remnants of your first cocktail. 

You don’t really want to get drunk tonight. You don’t want to be here at all. 

You put in your forty hours of work this week, and the only place you want to be is at home in a pair of sweatpants. 

The only person that would have made it a little more worth it made it very clear that he had better things to do. The details of which, of course, he didn’t bother to share. 

The thought spurs you to take another long sip. 

You don’t want to get drunk. But you don’t want to think about him either. 

Besides, Grace doesn’t seem to share your reservations. 

It’s barely been forty minutes when she pulls out her phone, thoroughly tipsy, and decides that you are the best person to help her sort through her list of matches on her favorite dating app. 

“He’s cute, right?” She flashes her phone screen towards you. 

He is. You nod and tell her as much. 

His eyes might not sparkle very much. And his hair might not fall perfectly over his forehead. And he might not furrow his eyebrow in concentration whenever the printer in the workroom gives him a hard time –

No. 

Tonight is not about him. He made it very clear that he had no interest in being here tonight, and the last thing you’re going to do is spend the evening fixated on him. 

Grace, at least, seems willing to help on that front. 

“Oh,” she suddenly interjects from your side. “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to show you a picture of my friend’s brother. You know, the one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?”

It’s a bad idea, probably. You’re still feeling slighted and bitter and no matter how many times you tell it not to, your mind keeps wandering to Jungwon. 

Despite your reluctance, the cocktails are catching up with you. There’s a pleasant, slightly numb haze in your mind. It makes resistance feel futile. 

All you do is nod, and Grace starts searching for his social media profile. It takes her a few more tries than it would sober, but she does eventually find it. 

“Here,” she says, offering her phone to you. “His name is Jay. He grew up here until he left to go to an international high school. He’s been living abroad ever since, but he recently moved back. Their dad is pretty high up at a software development company. I think he came back because he landed a job there too.” 

You do your best to absorb the information, to nod along with what she says, but in all honesty, you’re quite distracted. 

Jay is quite distracting. His feed is well-curated without being overbearing. Covered in travel photos, unbelievably flattering candid shots, and stunning nature pictures, he immediately piques your interest. 

Not to mention the fact that he’s stunning. Maybe not quite as stunning as –

No. Again, you refuse to go there. 

You’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the photos or the spite that makes it suddenly feel like a good idea, but you’re telling Grace to pass your number along to Jay before you can think better of it. 

And if nothing else, at least he doesn’t seem like the kind of person that will make you wonder. Or even wait for long. 

You’ve barely gotten home, mind mostly clear even if it is still a bit muddled from the exhaustion of a long week, when your phone screen lights up with a notification. 

It’s just a string of numbers for now, but you’re quick to create a new contact. 

Hey, the message reads. This is Jay. Grace gave me your number. I hope that’s alright!

A few seconds later, another text comes through. 

Jay: How do you feel about art exhibitions? There’s one opening this weekend right next to one of the best coffee spots in the city. I’d love for you to join me. 

It’s simple. Straightforward. Not something you’ll search for subtext or pick apart for weeks. 

And it’s easy to respond to. 

You: That sounds great! I’ll look forward to it

…..

Another week at work passes with the same monotonous, sluggish flow as any other. But this time, it’s interspersed with messages you’ve started to look forward to. 

You’ve just sat down with your third cup of coffee on Monday morning when the first one chimes through. 

Jay: Good morning, ___. I hope your Monday is off to a better start than mine. 

A second message comes through. This one is an image. One that unmistakably shows a stack of papers covered in a dark brown stain you recognize all too well. 

You: Oh no! 

Pausing for a moment, your teeth worry at your bottom lip. Deciding to go for it, you send your own picture in return. 

The image of your full coffee cup goes through, along with another message. 

You: I think it might be. My coffee is still in my cup, at least

It takes him less than a minute to respond. 

Jay: Black coffee! Oh, you mean business. I’ll deny it if you tell anyone, but I always have to add sugar and cream to mine. 

You can’t help the smile that starts to spread over your lips. Sugar and cream. An aversion to bitterness. It reminds you of someone else that always adds a little sweetness to their –

Shaking your head, you force the comparison away. Putting the other man firmly out of mind, you decide to return Jay’s lighthearted message with one of your own.

You: Don’t tell anyone, but this is my third cup of the morning. 

Jay: Third cup of straight black coffee. Whew, remind me not to get on your bad side today. 

Jay: Speaking of which, do you always drink it black or could you be persuaded into something a little sweeter? 

He’s talking about coffee, yes, but it feels just a little bit like flirting. Biting at your lip again, you decide there isn’t much to lose.

Besides, it’s kind of… fun. You can’t remember the last time you were well and truly flirted with. 

You: Depends who’s asking

Jay: Hmm

Jay: I’ll have to work on my persuasion skills then

Jay: The place I’m taking you to on Saturday has an insanely delicious caramel latte, and I need to know what you think of it

You: Tempting

You: But I’m not sure I’m convinced 

Jay: I’ll work on that, then

You can’t hide your smile this time. 

A minute later, two more texts ping through. 

Jay: Duty calls, unfortunately

Jay: The rest of my Monday is stacked, so if I am slow to respond to any messages, that’s why. Enjoy the rest of your day, ___

He’s straightforward. Communicative. You appreciate the notice. The fact that if you do send another message without a response, you won’t have to waste your day wondering why. 

You: Ugh, don’t you hate it when you actually have to work at work?

You: I hope all goes well! Enjoy the rest of your day too, Jay

Setting your phone down, you return your gaze to your computer screen and unfortunately very full inbox. 

Your focus, however, remains half-occupied by a message thread sitting dormant on your tucked away phone. 

…..

Jay’s messages begin to become a highlight of your work day. Despite the fact that there’s often a large lapse in time due to both of your busy schedules, you start to anticipate every text he manages to send. 

And they only serve to build more excitement around your upcoming date. 

By the time Thursday comes around, you’ve all but mentally clocked out for the week. Refilling your water bottle in the staff kitchen, your mind is so occupied that you almost run right into the person coming through the door the same time you’re leaving. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was–”

“___.” The sound of your name stops you in your tracks. “Breathe,” Jungwon is smiling, but there’s a hint of concern there, too. “You’re okay.”

“Jungwon,” you exhale. Your frantic apology begins to subside, replaced by an overwhelming surge of self-consciousness as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You haven’t spoken to him, haven’t even seen him, since he rejected your invitation last Friday. 

He’s not trying to pick at old wounds, but it still stings a bit when he asks, “How was Friday?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug, “It was a typical work gathering.” Then again, it occurs to you that he might not know. Since he never bothers attending any of them. 

Not that it really matters. Besides, you’re lying a bit anyway. Typical work gatherings don’t usually end with you setting up a date. Not that you want Jungwon to know about that either. 

You can't pinpoint exactly why, but the thought of him knowing doesn’t sit with you quite right. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever shown any interest in your personal life, anyway. He would find it weird, most likely. Annoying, if you were to divulge any details. 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry again that I couldn’t come.” Just like that day in the workroom, he reaches back to scratch at his neck. You have the distinct sense that he’s the one who suddenly feels a bit awkward. “Friday nights are…” he trails off, “Friday nights are hard for me, usually. I’m always pretty free on Saturday mornings, thought, so if–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Oh god. Your intention certainly wasn’t to make him feel guilty for having a social life outside of the office. Suddenly worried that you read the situation all wrong, you’re quick to assure him, “You don’t have to come to anything that you don’t want to. And especially if you have plans already. I just asked you because my supervisor wanted us to invite people from other departments.”

If his face falls slightly, you’re too caught up in your own rambling to notice. 

“And, you know,” you continue, “since you helped me that day with the printer.” 

“The printer,” he echoes, voice suddenly hollow. “Right.”

“Right,” you echo. The room falls into silence again, and this time, it’s weighted with a horrible awkwardness neither of you can shake. 

“Well,” you finally say, holding up your bottle. “I got my water, so I’m gonna head back to my desk.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you around?” It’s just as stilted as it was before, but you’re desperate for any way to exit this conversation. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon repeats. “Sure thing, ___.”

…..

By the time Saturday morning comes, you’re a mess of anticipation and frayed nerves. 

You’re early to arrive at the address of the coffee shop Jay sent you a few nights ago, but he’s already there waiting for you. And his social media might have painted an impressive picture, but one look tells you that it still doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. 

Jay is gorgeous.

Almost as gorgeous as –

You kill the thought as soon as it comes. This day isn’t about him, and comparisons will do you little good. 

Instead, you refocus on your date. 

He’s polished and put together in an effortless sort of way. The kind of person that you see once in passing and then can’t stop thinking about for the rest of the week. His features are angular, sharp. But they soften into a warm smile the second he lays eyes on you. 

In the end, it doesn’t take him much convincing at all to persuade you to try the caramel latte. And he’s right. It is absolutely delicious.  

It was easy to fall into a natural rhythm over text, and your face-to-face conversation flows even better. 

He tells you about life abroad and all of his favorite parts of living in another country. He tells you about his family and what he missed most about this city he’s learning to call home again. 

He listens, actively, while you tell him the more mundane details of your own life. His questions are well-timed and never feel like interruptions. 

His kindness doesn’t feel like a facade. His interest doesn’t feel like a cheap trick to get what he wants from you and then disappear without a word. 

And when it becomes painfully apparent at the art exhibition that he’s far more well-versed in the subject than you, he doesn’t make you feel stupid. Instead, he takes his time explaining each piece. Highlights the aspects that would be most interesting to someone without any kind of background in art. 

He’s kind, considerate, and the day passes by in a blur of fleeting glances and shy smiles. At the end of it, he offers to drive you home and opens your car door for you. Small gestures that make you feel seen, considered. Valued. 

When he says goodbye with a hug that doesn’t last nearly long enough, the smell of his cologne is something you hope will linger as long as the memories of the day do. 

It’s easy, you think, as you watch his car drive away from your window. Jay is someone that’s easy to be around, to spend time with. 

And when he messages you later that night, reiterating his enjoyment of the day and asking to meet again, he’s easy to say yes to. 

…..

You’re not sure how, but the only person that seems even more excited than you about you and Jay is Grace. 

Despite the fact that your communication as of late hasn’t involved anything scandalous, she feels the need to rehash every detail until she’s heard it one hundred times. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell her that the last text message he sent you wasn’t anything to swoon over. In fact, it was rather short and unexciting. 

Jay: Have you seen my ring by chance? I remember wearing it that day I was in your car, and I haven’t been able to find it since then. 

But Grace won’t hear it. You’re not exactly sure what she heard from Jay’s sister, but she spends the rest of the coming week hounding you over the details regardless. 

The staff kitchen is hardly the place for conversations about your personal life, but the setting doesn’t seem to bother her at all. Instead, she pretends to be busy washing an already clean coffee mug while she asks again, “So you went out for the first time last Saturday, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“And then you got dinner together Wednesday night after work?”

“Yep.” You’re pretty sure she’s already asked the same question at least six times. 

“And he’s planning to take you out again this Saturday?”

“Right.”

“My god, you two are practically married.” She punctuates the absurd claim with a wistful sigh. 

“We most certainly are not.” 

“Okay, but you literally just met, and you’ve already seen each other twice with plans for a third.”

She does have a point there. Never mind the fact that you haven’t dated anyone in a while. It is a quick timeline, no matter how you look at it. But you’ve been itching to spend time with him ever since your first date, and Jay seems to be on the same page. 

It feels fast, yes, but it doesn’t feel forced. For you, that’s what matters most. 

That, along with the fact that a certain someone has been noticeably absent from your mind the more time you spend with him. For now, you’ll choose not to read too much into that. 

“God,” Grace sighs again. “I miss going on dates.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you go on one a couple weeks ago?” You distinctly remember helping her set it up that night at the bar after work.

“Well, yeah, but I mean good dates. You know, getting properly wined and dined and all that. I guess I’ll just have to live vicariously through you.” 

“We went to dinner once, and there was hardly any wine involved.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. All I’m saying is you’re lucky to be seeing someone that actually puts in effort for your dates and doesn’t just take you to the closest bar to his office and hope that buying you a handful of drinks means he’ll get lucky.” Pausing for a moment, she looks up, eyes landing somewhere just over your shoulder. “Right, Jungwon?”

Immediately, it’s as if you’ve been submerged in ice cold water. Because there’s no way she said–

“Jungwon?” Turning around, you’re put face to face with the last person you wanted to overhear this particular conversation. 

“Hey, ___.” There’s a smile on his lips. Small as always, but something feels wrong about it. “Grace,” he nods at the girl over your shoulder. “Sorry,” he’s still looking at her, “were you asking me something?”

“No, we were just leaving, actua–”

Grace pays you no attention. “Just telling ___ how lucky she is that her man actually puts effort into their dates, since it feels like such a rarity these days.”

“He is not my man.” The glare you send your coworker is lost as Jungwon turns back to you, eyes wide, gaze indecipherable. 

“You’re dating someone?”

“I…” The easy, most available answer is yes, but you’re having a hard time getting it out. And there are other semantics involved. 

Are you dating? Not really. That usually indicates some kind of commitment, exclusivity. Going on dates might be a better way to put it. But clarifying that miniscule distinction for Jungwon feels strange for some reason. 

“My friend’s brother,” Grace supplies unhelpfully from the corner. “What can I say? I’m a natural born matchmaker.” Her proud smile is lost on the both of you. You’re only looking at each other. 

“Oh.” Jungwon’s voice is small, hollow. “That’s nice. I’m happy for you.”

You want to scream, just a little bit. Or maybe cry. You can’t make up your mind. 

And you’re not sure where it comes from, the sudden, overwhelming surge of guilt that begins to build in your gut. You can’t even decipher who it’s directed towards. Towards Jungwon? Towards Jay? Towards yourself? 

Grace, despite her self-proclaimed talent for setting up dates, is apparently incredibly inept at reading the room. With no prompting but her own, she’s pushing forward. “He lived abroad for a while and just moved back to the city, which is like, the perfect scenario for going on dates. And he’s always had a flair for romance. I remember–”

“Well,” you interrupt, desperate for an out, “we better get back to the project we were working on—“

“What project?” Grace, it would seem, is determined to be anything but helpful.

“You know,” you glare at her, “our project.”

“Right!” She looks sheepish, finally catching the hint. “That project.”

Turning back to Jungwon, you can still see the rigidity of his features. The tension that has yet to ease. “I’ll…” you’re not sure how to part ways now without making things worse. But it feels wrong to just leave without saying anything. For the third time in the span of days, you tell him, “I’ll see you around.”

And for the third time, he agrees, “Yeah.” This time, however, his eyes still flickering with annoyance, shoulders still set with residual frustration. “Sure thing, ___.”

It’s what he always says, you realize. But this time, it’s missing that easygoing, genuine lightness he usually says it with. 

This time, it sounds like rejection.

Yours or his, you’re not entirely sure.

…..

You manage to avoid Jungwon for the rest of the week. It’s ironic, almost. You were so worried about pursuing a potential relationship with him because you wanted to avoid this exact scenario. 

Now, a handful of dates with someone who is very much not him tucked under your belt, you still feel the need to turn and walk the other direction whenever you think you hear his voice or get a glimpse of blonde hair. 

But the office is only so big, and there are only so many corners to duck into. Barely a week has passed the next time you unwittingly bump into him. 

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.” 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers. 

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere. 

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it. 

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for. 

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side. 

“What happened?” You breathe. 

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features. 

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best. 

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury. 

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away. 

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you. 

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it. 

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path. 

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance. 

…..

Sliding into the passenger seat of Jay’s car Thursday evening, you feel the stress melting from your shoulders the second the door shuts behind you. 

This is something else he makes easy: forgetting about whatever woes you managed to acquire after a long day of work. Jay just smiles as you sit down next to him, turning down the volume on the radio as he asks about your day. 

Tonight, the two of you are headed to one of your favorite diners. Somewhere where you can chat and laugh and relax over a pile of french fries and obnoxiously gaudy decor. 

But before you turn down the street that leads to the restaurant, Jay asks if the two of you can make a quick stop. 

“I left my bag at the gym last night,” he explains apologetically. “Do you mind if I swing by and grab it real quick? It’s on our way.”

You reassure him that it’s no problem, and a handful of minutes later, the two of you are parked outside of a rather nondescript, faded building. 

Frowning slightly, your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Although he hasn’t outright disclosed anything, from what you’ve gathered so far, Jay’s family is quite well off. The kind that pays for expensive memberships at bougie gyms with saunas and swimming pools. Not the kind that frequents dark, run down gyms in the middle of a random residential area. 

Pulling his key from the ignition, Jay turns to you. “You can wait here, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” You’re already unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m tired of sitting, anyway.” You really are. Plus, you have to admit that you’re kind of curious. 

You fall into step at his side as the two of you make your way towards the building. The closer you get, the more decrepit it appears. Paint is peeling from the exterior, leaving it an odd, mottled brown color riddled with rust marks. 

Even the sign, Kang’s Gym, is small, faded, and only visible once you’re nearly to the entrance. 

Jay steps in front of you, holding the door open for you to enter. 

The inside, you realize as you step in, is in no better shape than the outside. The wall closest to you is lined with weightlifting equipment that looks as if it were pulled from past decades. 

Padding is torn in places, and questionable stains cover the place, accumulated from years of use. 

You’re about to ask him outright why on earth he patronizes such a run down place when your eyes land on the far wall of the gym. There, you think you find your answer. 

There’s no weightlifting equipment or cardio machines. Instead, the majority of available space is filled with several sets of boxing rings. Like the rest of the gym, they’re equally faded and worn with years of use. 

But the lighting in that part of the gym is noticeably better. Far brighter, more intentional. As if the rest of the gym is just for show and that is the true purpose of this building. 

You’re suddenly overcome with the urge to take a second glance at your date. 

He has a lean, athletic build, yes. The kind that you assumed came from some kind of regular exercise regiment and not his office job. 

But boxing wasn’t exactly what you expected. 

Jay turns to you. His expression gives nothing away, holds no indication that this is anything out of the ordinary for him. “I think I left it over by the locker rooms.” 

Encasing your hand in his, he leads you towards the rings. Several of them are occupied, mostly by one-on-one sparring matches. 

Walking past the first one, the two men inside the ring turn to look at you and Jay as you pass. 

“Hey, man,” the first one offers with a nod of recognition that Jay returns. As his eyes slide over to you, they widen slightly in surprise. Gaze falling to your intertwined hands, the man just shakes his head slightly before returning to his sparring partner. 

Moving past them, you shake the odd interaction from your mind. 

You spare fleeting glances for the rest of the people you pass. For a moment, you try to imagine Jay in the ring instead of them. It’s an odd contradiction with what you’ve come to associate with him. 

Easygoing. Considerate. Even tempered. They’re traits that feel at odds with the kind of stark physicality required in a boxing ring. 

Then again, the more you consider it, the more you start to make sense of it. Jay is all of those things, yes, but there’s also an undercurrent of something else. 

A quiet intensity he carries with him. Something he has control over. Something he can channel when needed. 

The more you think about it, the easier it is to picture him in the ring, throwing precise, calculated punches until victory rests on his square shoulders. 

You’d be lying if you said the mental image didn’t pique your interest. You’re about to ask him if he’ll let you watch next time he’s in the ring when a flash of color in the last boxing ring, the one closest to the locker rooms, catches your attention. 

It’s unlikely. It feels impossible. Even more so than the thought of Jay in a boxing ring. But as you draw closer, you confirm your suspicions. 

After all, you would know that shade of blonde anywhere. 

It takes everything in you not to stop dead in your tracks. But even as you continue forward, hand still encased in Jay’s, your eyes are trained solely on the space between Jungwon’s broad shoulders. 

It’s almost inhuman, the feline agility that he moves with. He’s smaller than his opponent, but he’s faster. Lighter on his feet. 

The punches he throws are dizzyingly accurate, and his sparring partner seems to think the same. A muted thud is followed by a string of expletives that become more clear the closer you get. 

“Jesus, Jungwon.” The man across from him is still a bit breathless as he recovers from having the wind knocked out of him. “Bad week at work or something?”

“C’mon, Heeseung.” It doesn’t sound anything like the Jungwon you know. Gone is the quiet friendliness you’ve always heard from him. His voice is still gentle, but it carries an unmistakable command. “Stop going easy.”

“I’m not,” the other man – Heeseung – argues. “What has gotten into you? It’s like you’ve been insane since that match last week.” 

“Whatever,” Jungwon scoffs, shaking his head. “Let’s just take five.” 

“Make it ten,” Heeseung goads across from him. 

Jungwon sends him a warning glare, but says nothing. Instead, he reaches for his water bottle at the corner of the ring, leaning against the ropes that enclose it. 

All you can do is watch, suddenly fascinated by the way sweat darkens his hair, trails down the length of his neck. Jungwon gives a quick shake of his head, sending his hair scattering over his forehead as he leans further into the ropes behind him.

Tipping his head back, his throat works against a swallow as he takes a long drink from his water bottle. 

Jungwon sets his water bottle down, turning towards Heeseung like he’s about to say something else when movement catches his attention. 

More specifically, your movement. His eyes fall on you, and for a moment, you’re rendered just as immobile as him. His gaze widens in recognition and then suddenly, he’s standing. 

Long strides eat up the length of the boxing ring as he crosses it, every step bringing him closer to you. With a distinct sort of grace and practiced ease, he jumps over the side of the ring, landing on his feet just as you and Jay pass him. 

With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you both in your tracks. His touch is gentle, but commanding. It leaves little room for argument. 

“This is the guy you’ve been seeing?” Jungwon’s eyes are molten lava. If you thought that day in the staff kitchen was the most visible emotion he was capable of mustering, you were sorely mistaken. The Jungwon that stands in front of you now is simmering with it, vibrating with barely contained emotions. 

At your side, Jay turns back. With your hand still enclosed in his, Jay’s gaze goes straight towards Jungwon’s hand on your shoulder. 

“Jungwon,” he nods coolly. 

Jungwon ignores him entirely. His gaze is still trained directly on you. 

Glancing between the both of them, the tension between them is palpable. Over Jungwon’s shoulder, you can see Heeseung leaning against the edge of the boxing ring as if he can’t decide whether to intervene or not. 

“Well,” you say, attempting to diffuse a bit of the rising animosity, “I guess I don’t need to introduce the two of you, then.”

This time, it’s you that Jungwon ignores. Turning to Jay, he’s all venom. “And you brought her here? What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, man.” Jay rolls his eyes. “We’re just grabbing my bag.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you left here,” he bites. “You know better than to–”

Shaking his hand off your shoulder, annoyance makes itself visible across your features. It’s one thing for Jungwon to be pissy towards your date, but it’s another entirely for him to assume that you can’t handle something as mundane as a boxing gym. 

And if you're honest, the whole overprotective act just rubs you the wrong way. Why does he think he gets to ignore you all week at work and then act like he knows what’s in your best interest?

“I think I can handle watching people throw a few punches, Jungwon.” Your voice is all ice, and it changes his demeanor immediately. The anger begins to dissipate, leaving him with wide eyes that beg for your understanding. 

The frustration is still there, though. “That’s not what I meant, ___.”

“I don’t really care what you meant.” You’re not sure if it’s true, but you want it to be. For now, that’s enough. “Why don’t you go back to your friend and pretend like you never saw me. You’re good at that, right?”

It’s a low blow. And it has his features falling immediately, eyebrows slackening as if you’ve slapped him. 

His voice is notably gentler when he says your name. “___…”

This time, it’s Jay that speaks. “I suggest you listen to her, man. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Jungwon wants to say more. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, in the way his shoulders still rise with tension. Finally, he relaxes. Just a fraction of an inch, but you know it’s over. At least for now. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he does take a step back. And then another. 

His eyes are still on you, even as Jay keeps walking, pulling you gently along with him. 

By the time he finds his bag and the two of you make your way back out, Jungwon is nowhere to be found. 

You can still feel eyes on you, though. 

This time, it’s Heeseung’s gaze that follows you all the way out the door. 

Back in Jay’s passenger seat, you turn towards your date, a million questions swimming in your mind. 

“What on earth was that all about?”

Jay just frowns, knuckles white against the steering wheel. Instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “How do you know him?”

“What?” Too confused to protest, you answer. “We work together.” Then you repeat, “What’s going on?”

Jay sighs, leans his head back against his seat. “He’s in marketing with you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Programming. I don’t want to ask you again.” This time, you can’t help the expletive. “What the fuck was that?”

“We…” Jay trails off, searching for an explanation. “We know each other.”

“Yeah, no shit. How?”

“We went to the same middle school, before I left for high school. He was a year behind me.”

“And what?” You ask, trying to think of what kind of feud middle schoolers could possibly have that would warrant tonight’s interaction. “He stole your lunch money and you never got over it?”

“Not quite.” His lips are tight. “Look, ___. I know you can’t help who you work with, but Jungwon… he’s not who you think he is.”

“And you are?”

Jay turns to you, hurt clearly written across his features. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” you argue, doubling down. “What’s not fair is giving me vague half truths about my coworker and expecting me to just agree blindly while you evade all of my questions.” A moment of silence passes. Jay says nothing. Finally, you tell him, “If you’re not going to be honest with me, then I think you should just take me home.”

“Wait, ___–”

“I’m serious, Jay. I’m not about to go have dinner with you and pretend that this didn't just happen. Just take me home.” Softening a bit at the obvious distress on his face, you add a quiet, “Please.”

You won’t compromise your boundaries, but you don’t have it in you to be needlessly cruel, even if his evasiveness bothers you to no end. 

Jay just sighs, pulling into an empty parking lot before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. Towards your apartment. 

The rest of the car ride passes in stilted silence, neither of you willing to break it. 

Jay is the first one to speak, but it’s not until you’re sliding out of his passenger seat, back turned towards him. 

“Good night, ___.”

For a moment, you consider just ignoring him. But it feels petty, even for these circumstances. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he needs time to find a way to tell you the truth. 

“Good night,” you tell him. But you still don’t look back.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

READ PART TWO HERE

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: I AM SO ANNOYEDDDDD this was all supposed to be one long fic, not two parts, but tumblr's post block limit got me. Honestly I don't know how I avoided it this long. Anyway the second part is written and will be posted soon. In the meantime, let me know what you're thinking so far! As always, thank you for reading ♡

[shotmrmiller]

A chance encounter.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F! Reader

TW: none other than TOOTH ROTTING CUTE FLUFF

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You have had a bad week but today has been horrific. You had awoken 15 minutes before the alarm, get up to shower, and the water had gone ice cold when you had shampoo in your hair.Stumbling out after a freezing shower, you were pulling on a tank top when the back of it twisted because you didn't fully dry yourself so that had you fighting it for 10 minutes and you still had to squeeze into an office skirt and button up. You ran as fast as you could in heels to your car and drove at an illegal speed to try and get to work on time— only to have your boss drown you in paperwork before snapping at you about a lack of coffee on his desk. Your only reprieve is that it's Friday and you don't work Monday. Fuck this job, fuck this week, and fuck whoever jammed the paper printer and left it like that.

Looking at the clock, you see the end of your shift has come— and you couldn't grab your keys and sprint out of the door fast enough. All you could think about was going to a grocery store and getting a bottle of wine before going home and ordering some Mexican food.

----

Standing in the alcohol section, you're biting the tip of your thumb as you try to pick which brand of cheap wine would give you the least painful hangover when a baritone voice from behind you interrupts your train of thought.

"I wouldn't recommend you a two-buck chuck for a Friday evening."

Without facing him, you say, "I'm sorry?"

With a lovely British accent, he translates. "A box of red Moscato will serve you in nothing but a terrible headache."

Scoffing, you turn to tell him to piss off— but your retort is caught in your throat. A beautiful man is the owner of that voice. Bronze complexion and tall like a runway model with a cap that had the U.K. flag on it. Chocolate eyes, straight nose, sculpted jaw, lush lips and a 5 o'clock shadow. He looked like a man out of a romance movie.

Your cheeks redden and stammer, "I— uh, don't want to pay for a good bottle I plan on getting drunk on."

He lets out a laugh, straight white teeth with pointy canines— you curse your weakness for mythical creatures— and extends his hand.

"Gaz. Gaz Garrick."

Shaking his hand, you give him your name.

"Well, speaking of wine, I'd love to personally recommend you a bottle over dinner."

'This isn't real,' you think. 'What could a man carved by Michaelangelo himself want with someone like you?'

He takes in your gaping mouth and widened eyes as a response.

"If you want, of course," he falters, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfo—"

"No!" you interrupt, "I mean yes! I'd love to go out to dinner with you, Kyle."

He relaxes his shoulders before letting out another entrancing laugh.

"Right, well, if you like— since I know you've got plans tonight— we exchange cell numbers and we can plan a date when it's the most convenient for you. I'll be in America for a bit."

You're too excited to wonder at what he meant by that and take out your phone, nodding eagerly. You're about to ask him what his number is when he shoves his unlocked phone into your hand and takes yours. Exchanging phones again, you look down at his contact page. Kyle with a blue heart next to it.

You're blushing furiously but look up at him and smile.

"Alrighty, Gaz. I gotta get goin', I got a couch and take-out calling my name. But I will text you."

"I hope you do, love. Otherwise, I'll be gutted."

Grabbing the box of wine, your heels click as you walk down to the register— and you can feel the burn of his gaze on your back. Someone somewhere was looking out for you because you just happened to be wearing the most flattering office skirt you own. Paying and grabbing the receipt, you leave the store with a pep in your step and a silly little smile on your face. You couldn't wait to see him again.

---

Finally at home in an oversized tee and sweatpants, you're lounging on your sofa. Fluffy socked feet up on your coffee table with a full wine glass in your one hand, you're changing the TV from Youtube to the Netflix you never use. Taking a sip as you scroll through the popular on Netflix list when you see a recognizable face.

You shoot up from the couch, spine ramrod straight as you squint your eyes at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Gaz?"

'Last letter from your lover' starring up-and-coming british star Kyle Garrick---- The letters after that blur together. No shot he's ACTUALLY from a movie!

Slamming your plastic wine glass down on the table, you scramble to your phone before sending 'Gaz' a text.

You: Hey.

Gaz: Hey, love. I didn't think you'd reach out so soon. Can't say I'm not glad though.

You: Yeah well, I just happened to come across something peculiar and I thought of you.

Gaz: Oh? I'm flattered I made such an impression.

You: Yeah! I just saw the preview to 'Last letter from your lover'. You wouldn't happen to be Kyle Garrick?

Gaz: Ah— right. Listen, my name IS Gaz. It's what friends and loved ones call me. You not recognizing me from the get-go was a breath of fresh air. I understand if this could be an issue for you.

You: It just took me by surprise. How about you make it up to me tomorrow evening? You've set high expectations for your choices in wine.

Gaz: Absolutely, love. I promise I won't disappoint. Tomorrow then, at 7.

You grab your sofa cushion and smush your face into it before screaming at the top of your lungs. Grabbing the box of wine, you store it in the fridge and get ready for bed. No hangover for you, after all—You've got a date!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[vastdetailrichworld]

4-11-2024

I skipped 4/10 because i need to write today's events down before i forget while trying to think of yesterday's. today we went to harvest, dollar general, a few little stores here and there. we went to the anderson museum of art where i had done that animation camp several years ago and looked at the photography exhibits, one was called "in focus" and he other was by a guy who took a picture in each state i think? then we went to mounds park and sat in the visitor's center for a while, birdwatching and listening to nature. occasionally there would be a horribly loud pop from the mic getting hit by a raindrop haha. i noticed some of the birdfeeders were empty and got this feeling that i should be the one to refill them. on the way out, i saw a volunteers wanted thing and one of the jobs was changing the birdfeeders, i asked about it and got some papers to fill out :]

then we went to ruby tuesday in muncie. i got an american smashed burger. it was cheaper than the normal cheeseburger despite having two patties. maybe its because theyre smashed? i dunno. shaes mom got the same thing as me and shane got chicken tenders, but i got his honey mustard bc he doesnt like it. it was really good with the fries, kinda like chic fil a sauce. then it was off to cec!!!

it was really empty, there were a couple families and some friends the whole time so we basically had the whole place to ourselves. not much staff either. one of the managers was there and he's a big cec fan! we talked to him on and off, and he helped us with some stuff [jammed sketchbook printer, getting tokens out of rubble bubble, etc.] shane brought his cyber hat and it fit perfectly on chuck!!! the manager really liked it and wanted to trade shane two pizza pans and dimming the showroom lights [which was gonna happen anyways since it was near closing] but uh, thats obviously not a very good trade. i found out when munice's getting 2.0, its at the end of this year. we asked the manager if he would be able to save anything and he said he doubted it because he might get fired :( ah well, i guess we'll see. we took lots of fun pics!!!

we met up with my dad at wendy's and gave each other two nice biiiig hugs :3 im gonna miss him around here but i mean. i talk to him like every day so yknow. also im ready to not go out and do stuff every day haha, its nice and fun but im not used to it. maybe if i volunteer at mounds that'll change!

[siempre-bucky]

lemons and iron

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn't realize how badly he craved your touch until you cleaned him up after a fight with Jason Carver.

warnings: mentions of wounds, cuts, blood

wc: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for requesting, anon! I hope you liked it!!!

It was the third time you aggressively placed your pointer finger on your book, a low rumble escaped your throat as you found your place in the middle of the page. Sure, it was your fault that you chose to read during lunch. You looked up at your friends, reading the same book with less frustration written on their delicate features. The cause of the frustration and lack of focus? Eddie Munson and Jason Carver.  

They always managed to turn the crowded cafeteria into their own western standoff. Some comment leads to Eddie hopping on tables which leads to a bitter exchange of words from Jason while Eddie laughs at him. You kept your eyes trained on your book, knowing that if you looked up at him you wouldn’t be able to look away. 

Safe to say you had a crush on the guy you shared most of your classes with. Eddie was always kind to you, like when he sat beside you in English he always made sure to give you the handout that didn’t look completely eaten by the printer. He stepped aside when he saw you coming into class so you could enter first, sticking his arm out and a charming smile adorning his lips. He cracked jokes and always laughed at your quips. It made you feel fuzzy just sitting there thinking about him. 

The sound of the table moving and the thud of shoes hitting the ground made you finally look at the scene unfolding. Jason and Eddie stood there, eyes locked in a bitter battle and their spines straight as blades. Eddie’s hands fell casually to his side while Jason’s fists balled angrily. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath. 

Jason said something inaudible to the crowd growing around them, then stepped forward and jammed two of his fingers into Eddie’s collarbone. Eddie chuckled, “Alright, that’s enough, big boy,” he scoffed as he turned away to leave. Jason scowled and shoved him again. 

You don’t know how it happened, as if a confident spirit overtook your body, you didn’t realize you jumped out of your seat and quickly walked over. You stood in between them, “Jason that’s enough,” you shouted. 

“This has nothing to do with you,” he seethed, his opened hand pressing to your chest and shoving you to the cold floor. Eddie’s expression didn’t change until he heard the smack of your head hitting the floor. His ring-clad hand balled up, punching Jason square in the cheek. 

The world around you was spinning, the sounds of fists colliding with faces, and the cheers from students egging them on became static-like. After the dizziness subsided, you slowly stood up and gripped Eddie by the back of his denim vest while a teacher restrained the basketball star. “Are you ok?” Eddie asked, turning to you. Your heart sank at the sight of his bloody face, his lower lip cut with the crimson fluid dribbling down his chin. Then you looked at Jason, small holes littered his face from Eddie’s rings, he looked worse in comparison.

“I’m fine,” you whispered with a small nod, “We need to get you to the nurse.” 

Eddie let you walk with him to the nurse's office, the pain in his face making him walk slower than normal but you didn’t mind. You matched his speed, looking up every once in a while to check if the bleeding stopped; it didn't. Once you reached the light-colored oak door, you saw the white piece of paper taped to it with ‘back in 15’ written in red Sharpie. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned. 

“Look. I’m all good, sweetheart. No need to worry about me, kay?” Eddie told you, regretting smiling down in your direction after his lip resplit open.

You shook your head and grabbed onto the sleeve of his well-worn Metallica shirt, once again dragging him down the hall. You always kept a small first aid kit in your backpack, just in case of emergencies. The emergencies in your mind typically included paper cuts, ceramics class incidents, and gym class, but never did you think you’d have to use its contents on your crush. 

You nearly threw him into the empty girl's bathroom even after his continuous protests. He hopped up onto the sink, letting his long legs dangle while you placed your bag on the ground and dug through it trying to locate the box. 

After placing the white box on the edge of the sink, you dragged your hands along his own and slipped off the bloody rings. 

Eddie’s body stiffened as he felt your hands on him. Watching diligently as your graceful hands slid off the rings one by one, letting them fall into the sink with loud clinks against the porcelain. Your fingers felt so soft as you traced along the digits, he could smell the faint scent of your lemon hand cream mixed with the iron of his blood. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but when you put it on during class he’d imagine what it would be like to have your hands on him.  

They were everything he hoped they would be. Soft, delicate, careful, perfection. He looked down at you, your face solemn as you wiped around his knuckles with a wet paper towel. “Does it hurt?” you asked gently, grabbing a small roll of gauze. 

“No, not anymore,” he answered simply. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, afraid he might blurt out how much he was enjoying this. Even though it stung every time you touched it, he didn’t mind as long as it was you touching him. 

“I-I uh have to clean your face,” you informed him nervously. 

Eddie nodded and leaned forward ever so slightly in anticipation. You grabbed another paper towel and hesitantly held his chin in your hand. A wave of warmth rushed through him, goosebumps spreading out on his pale skin. Naturally, he leaned into your touch, his chin relaxing into the palm of your hand. 

Your other hand worked on his split lip, avoiding the cut as you swiped away the dried blood. Eddie Munson had freckles, you noted. They were sparse, barely there, and kissed on rather than dusted. You were envious of the angel that got to place them on his skin while Eddie was envious of every person who’s gotten to feel your soothing touch. You let your finger linger on his swollen lip while you folded the paper towel and wiped it under his nose. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, jolting backward as you bumped his nose. His brown eyes instantly filled with tears, his hand wrapping around your wrist. Your eyebrows knitted together, a string of apologies flooding from your lips and your other hand pulling away from his chin 

“Jesus Christ,” you whined, “I am so sorry, Eddie.” 

He exhaled deeply and released you while he blinked away the tears. “It’s ok, princess,” he winced, “You didn’t mean to… keep going.” Keep touching me. 

Eddie closed his eyes as he felt your soft hands on his face once more. He wasn’t used to someone touching him so delicately, even the nurses he had over the years weren’t as nice as you. He typically got a scolding from the school nurse after one of his lunchroom fights and a band-aid shoved roughly onto his cut. 

But you? He craved your delicate touch. He never thought he’d be able to experience a touch like this, he never felt worthy of such intimacy, certainly not by a girl he fancied.  

You leaned in a little closer while you placed ill-tasting ointment on the small cuts he gained. “Don’t taste it,” you giggled as his tongue poked out to touch his cut. In your laughter, you placed your hand on his knee. 

Eddie noticed right away as the shockwaves went up his thigh. “I was tempted,” he chuckled as he opened his eyes, his hand finding yours. You flinched but didn’t pull away, allowing him to wrap his hand around yours. 

“Eddie,” you whispered, leaving in closer. 

“Yes?” He leaned in, closing more of the distance. 

His lips were right there, bruised yet still beautiful. Your eyes flickered to the bridge of his nose, “I need to put a band-aid on your nose.” 

Eddie blushed and rescinded his hand from yours. He nodded nervously and dipped his head low. You rummaged through your bandaids until you found the one most fitting. You placed a black band-aid on his nose and put your hands on the sides of his face, lifting his blushing face to make sure you covered all the cuts. “Do I look ok?” he smirked, his own hands snaking up your forearms. 

“Perfect,” you grinned, nodding along to your statement. 

You stood there in silence after he got off the sink, his hands refusing to let you go. “Your hands are soft,” he commented, making you smile. 

“I-it’s this lemon stuff I use. I got it at the mall and my friends said it would help the dryness during winter, and they actually do get reall-'' you stopped your nervous rant as he started to laugh. 

“I know,” he said, his thumbs running along your wrist. 

Your fingers began to twitch lightly against his skin. Then it hit you—he was enjoying this. The pads of your fingers pressed harder into his skin, pulling his face closer to yours. “Can I?” you whispered. 

He nodded eagerly. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips were even softer than the hands that bandaged him. “You missed,” he teased. 

Eddie felt your lips spread into a smile. “I’ll kiss you properly when your lip heals,” you tell him lightheartedly, lifting up on your tiptoes while you brought his head lower and kissed his forehead, your nose scrunching from his bangs tickling your nose. 

“Let me hold your hand instead?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows. 

You nodded eagerly and pulled away, letting him take your hand in his. 

[tact-and-impulse]

Narumayo Week 2022 Day 1

Sliding into Day 1 on time, I was bouncing around different ideas and it turns out the first was the best. Already on FF.net and AO3!

Prompt: Anniversary

Sorry, still stuck at the office. You don’t have to wait up.

The text bubble floats on his phone screen, and there’s no telltale dots of a reply in progress. He almost wants to drop his forehead on his desk, never mind the stacks of documents and his keyboard, but another noisy surge causes him to jolt instead. Apollo’s yelling something over the virtual call, while Athena’s scrambling for the landline, rapidly punching the buttons. Across the room, she mouths an apology at him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everything will be fine.” He decides to opt for assured confidence, that even with this new evidence, tomorrow’s trial won’t be a disaster for their team.

Well…he hopes so.

“But today was special!” Athena hisses. “Because it’s yours and Miss Maya’s…oh, hi!” Her voice is extra sugary; the other person must have picked up.

Seizing the moment, Phoenix sneaks a glance at his phone.

is there anything i can do? snacks, drinks? wait have you eaten yet

He’s in the midst of relaying that Trucy’s gone for a coffee run, when there’s a loud grinding. Great. The printer’s jammed. He heaves a sigh, sends the text, and goes over to the damn machine.

***

It’s about half past nine when it happens. Suddenly, Apollo says that his connection isn’t as strong and he’ll call again later. Then, Athena and Trucy glance at each other, announcing they’re going to stretch their legs. Saving the file he’s working on, he only nods and doesn’t suspect further. After the door closes, the Wright Anything Agency is quiet.

And then, there’s a knock.

“Did you forget your keys?” He calls out, just as it swings out again. But instead of the two younger girls, an unexpected figure wheels in a covered cart. A deep purple dress covers her petite frame, her hair loose and eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Surprise.” Maya grins. “I’ve brought your room service. Whew, they weren’t kidding. It does look busy in here.” She stops at the cluttered low table, and he strides over, clearing away the strewn papers.

“Yeah, it’s been a mess. One of the client’s family members called Apollo, so he was dragged into it too. But it’s winding down, we’ve got most of it done.”

“That’s good.” She’s even brought a tablecloth, and she snaps cheerful orange gingham onto the wooden surface. “So, that means you can take a break. Really, Nick? You thought you could get out of our anniversary?” She feigns sternness.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He opens his arms and breathes her in. She smells like fresh air, soap, and a little like rain.

“You can make it up to me by sitting down and eating dinner.” She replies and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. But the first thing she takes from the cart is a bright yellow bouquet wrapped in pink cellophane. “And I’ve been waiting to give you this.”

“Sunflowers?” They might need a spritz from Charley’s water bottle, and he feels kind of guilty.

“Mm-hmm. Guess why.” She pokes his lapel intentionally.

He smiles. “Okay, I get it. Because I’m an attorney.”

“Well, yes, and because it’s our third anniversary. Sunflowers are meant for the third year. Not that I’d ever doubt we’d make it this far,” She hurriedly clarifies. “I just thought it was extra special since your badge is in the shape of a sunflower.”

“Even if that badge’s responsibility kept me away from home?” He slides his free arm around her waist.

“It’s a noble responsibility. You’ve saved me, and countless other innocent people. I don’t think about the inconvenience at all. I’m always proud of you.” Her gaze is warm. “Besides, I can always visit you. As long as we’re together, that’s what matters.”

“No objections from me. Thank you.” He leans in to kiss her, long and slow and savoring. Despite three years of kissing Maya Fey, each one is new and different. He rests his forehead against hers, satisfied by her glazed eyes and the hitch in her breath.

“You know, as much as I’d love to continue, I told Apollo, Athena, and Trucy to leave us alone for an hour. Just an hour.” She pointedly repeats. “And I haven’t eaten yet either.”

“Alright, fine.” He chuckles, steals another quick kiss. “We can celebrate more later.”

And while she puts together their plates and chats about her day, Phoenix watches her fondly and thinks that she outshines the sunflowers.

sunflower: adoration, longevity, loyalty

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you and harry steal each other’s stuff that eventually leads to more.

a/n: hi beauties! here is my fic for @stylesharrys​ 10k challenge! my picture of harry is the one above, enemies to lovers, and prompt is: ‘can you use your mouth for something other than talking?’ dedicated to my appreciation for great teachers & wanting to become one, but not happening lol

thank you to my girls @bopbopstyles​ & @harrystylescherry​ for beta reading <3

enjoy 23.4k (LONG AH) words of teacher!harry x teacher!reader, (kind of) enemies to lovers, angst, smut, plus a bit of twist in between!

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF STEAL YOUR HEART! i’d love to hear your favorite moments and thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

It was seven in the morning when you quickly sneaked over to the front desk where the cubbies for mail sat unbothered.

Call it a Monday ritual, where Nina would chuckle at your playfulness as you would take your fellow coworker’s mail and put it someplace else as said coworker would take something of yours and do the same.

Every Wednesday, he would take your bottle of milk from your own personal mini fridge and place it in different refrigerators throughout the building, leaving you to wander around to fifteen different classrooms as you raided their fridges and embarrassingly apologize for being in their business. But they would laugh it off knowing you and Harry always played games like that.

You could use different milk for your coffee that other teachers have, but since you’re lactose intolerant, you’d rather not, especially during work.

And today was no different for you. Every Monday, you would steal Harry’s mail from his mailbox and place it somewhere else; whether it’d be in your classroom or someone else’s classroom—sometimes you would even put it in other people’s mailboxes.

It may be immature of you both to be messing around in a school environment where you’re both teaching third graders how to behave and be nice to one another, but after working alongside Harry for six years, there was bound to be some kind of way to keep the workplace fun and light, but also remain somewhat professional.

But stealing each other’s belongings had begun a year after both of you started working at the school because after you two had met, things were a bit rocky, and somewhat still rocky as of now. You remembered the day so clearly when you accidentally stumbled upon his classroom.

You were nervous for your official first day because it was the first time you would have a class to yourself. You were rather proud of your achievements as you now had your own classroom at twenty-four. It was a different feeling when it was your own; when you were a TA for the high school down the street, but you rarely got to do any teaching because Miss Landson would never miss out on a day of teaching, so you were only really limited to grading papers and helping her students if they went up to you and asked. But you had no experience teaching in front of a whole class.

To say the least, you were nervous.

You had walked into your classroom to find it already decorated, and you assumed it was from the teacher prior who had just retired and didn’t take all of her decorations down. And although you brought many of your own decorations to put up, you didn’t mind it. It was nice to start off your first day not looking at empty walls, as they were filled with all sorts of decorative stars and colorful fliers.

Hesitantly, you took a seat in the comfy and cushioned chair, putting your bag down right beside the legs of the table, and spun around slowly as you tried to ease your nerves. Once you had fully spun around and made your way back to the correct position in front of the desk, you abruptly stopped spinning as you noticed a man standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What are you doing?” He had said with his brows furrowed. You looked at him as if you were a deer in headlights, feeling like you got caught doing something bad.

“I, uh…just getting a feel for the chair?” You sat up straighter, realizing that was such a bad and stupid answer.

“And why are you doing that in my classroom?” Your eyes widened at that, making you immediately stand up from his chair.

“I-I’m so sorry. I must’ve gone to the wrong classroom,” you hurriedly opened your folder that contained a copy of your contract, school rules, a map of the school, and the room number that you were supposed to be in.

“You must be the new teacher, correct?” He asked as he raised his brows, but still looked at you as if he was scolding you.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a chuckle, hoping to try and lighten the mood as your face had reddened. Harry only nodded, and you felt his stare intimidate you, so you quickly gathered your belongings and walked around the desk. “Uh, nice to meet you,” you took your hand out as you told him your name, and you felt him hesitantly reach for it. But nonetheless, he shook it, and his heavy ring covered hand met your delicate two ringed one.

“You too. I’m Mr. Harry Styles,” he introduced himself.

Once he had said his name, chills had immediately risen onto your skin as he looked at you so intently. You couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome, green eyes piercing into yours, and most likely a year or two older than you, based on how well dressed he was. Everything about him had made you swoon for him.

But that had quickly changed later in that school year of your first year teaching.

It was January, after the Christmas break, when you noticed that some of your things in your classroom had gone missing. Just some basic school supplies such as your gold stapler and all of your expo markers were not in your classroom. You thought that it was impossible your students had taken them because they were in your class when you had left the last day you had gone on break.

It wasn’t until you were helping out with the rest of the staff, putting up decorations for Valentine’s Day when you noticed a certain someone had your gold stapler in his hand as he stapled heart shaped cutouts onto the bulletin board.

“Mr. Styles!”

“Oh, hello there. How are you on this fine Thursday afternoon? Did you know that one of my students-”

“You took my stapler!” You said, and he looked at you confusingly, so you looked at his hand so he would know what you were talking about.

“This is my stapler,” he held it up.

“I don’t think so because my gold stapler was taken from my class and now it’s gone, and I know you don’t have a gold-”

“Snooping in my classroom, are you now, Miss?” He said, interrupting you and a clearly amused look on his face.

“Uh, no, but-”

“Then how would you know I don’t have a gold stapler?”

“I-I…don’t,” you said softly because you really didn’t know as you were assuming.

“Then it’s settled. You must’ve misplaced your stapler,” he told you as he continued stapling decorations to the wall. You huffed as you had walked away, continuing what you were doing.

It wasn’t until a week later, your gold stapler had magically appeared on your desk when you walked into your classroom, and you noticed that a red stapler was on Harry’s desk, when you had buddy classroom meetups, and not in fact, a gold one. And you knew it was him, but decided not to confront him about it as you carried on with your day, happily using your stapler.

So, from that year, fast forward to five years later, taking each other’s things had continued on. Taking his mail and your milk had only started last year, and it’s been fun as you both found new hiding spots and watched each other lose your minds when trying to find them. It was nothing serious, really, and neither of you made an effort to stop.

“Where are you going to put it this time?” Nina asked, amused. You pursed your lip, thinking as you gathered all of his mail in your hands.

“Hmm. I was thinking under my refrigerator, but-”

“What do we have here?” A voice you recognized as Harry said as he snuck up on you, causing you to squeal and jump, making you drop his mail. “Think you dropped something, or is that my mail?” He said as he looked down at the dropped mail.

“Son of a bitch. What are you doing here so early?” You rolled your eyes as you bent down to pick up his mail. He usually arrived at the school around 7:30, and school started at eight.

If it were any other day when you weren’t his annoying coworker and fellow class buddy, he would’ve loved the sight below him, but he had to remind himself to snap out of his thoughts and get it together.

“Now, we are in a workplace where there are children around. Don’t be using that kind of language,” he teased, but proceeded to answer your question. “But I had to print some of the worksheets that I forgot to do on Friday, so here I am. And you know the printer, always getting jammed when you print too many.”

“Seems pretty irresponsible to me if you forgot on Friday,” you turned your head towards Nina as you chuckled, but only found her eyes dreamily staring at Harry, which caused you to roll your eyes. But you didn’t blame her; he was very attractive, but the fact that you both are always messing and annoying one another didn’t completely make your heart swoon for him.

“Says you; the one who gave them a worksheet that was supposed to be for the month later,” he said back. Your jaw slightly dropped, impressed that he still remembered that considering that that happened your first year at the school.

“Ugh, whatever,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms, mail still in your hands. Harry chuckled as he looked at his mail underneath your arms, so he went to grab them, causing you to uncross your arms.

“Think this is mine. Thanks for grabbing them for me,” he said sarcastically, and you sighed, bummed that you weren’t able to do your morning ritual by hiding his mail and watching him struggle while finding it.

You watched him walk away as he flicked through his mail, and as you were about to follow him because your classroom is right next to his, he turned around and stopped walking to look up at you.

“By the way, you look nice today,” he said, looking you up and down in a non-creepy way, before walking away to his classroom.

You slightly raised your brows as you were taken off guard by the compliment, but a tint of pink had creeped up your cheeks as they began to warm up. Turning around to look at Nina if she heard the same thing you did, she was already looking at you with a blushing and giddy smile as you whispered to her, “did he just say that?” To which you earned an immediate nod of her head.

With your lips curled into your mouth, you walked back to your classroom, to get on with the day as you tried not to gush over the words of the curly headed teacher next door.

The rest of the week passed by quickly, and per Harry’s ritual, he moved your milk on Wednesday from your fridge to his fridge.

You had never thought about looking through his fridge since he would be quite obvious with knowing that it was in his room, but once you were getting cranky after looking through everyone's mini fridge and the lack of coffee, you had marched in his classroom and told him you gave up. And he chuckled, getting up from his desk as he walked over to his fridge before opening it and giving your container of milk. You took the milk, shaking your head as you walked back to your classroom as Harry followed.

“You know, I think we’re going to have to find something else to hide because I’m running out of places to stash your stuff in before they rot because you’ve been taking forever to find them lately,” he teased as he leaned against one of your student’s desks.

You rolled your eyes, pouring a splash of milk in your coffee. “I’m not taking forever,” you denied.

“Yeah, you are and you know it.”

You gave up arguing, silently agreeing. “Alright, you can pick something else, but I’m going to still do your mail. It’s fun searching through your monthly catalogs,” you said with a chuckle, and he dramatically gasped.

“It’s illegal to look through someone else’s mail!”

“Please. Like you don’t look through mine?” You said as you sipped your coffee, looking at him with testing eyes, and he was caught red-handed.

One day, you were walking to the cubbies and once you got there, you caught Harry sneaking a peek at one of your fashion magazines that you subscribed to. And since you have enough subscriptions that are being mailed to your home, you decided to mail some of them to the school.

“To be fair, it fell out of your mailbox. I was just simply putting it back,” he explained, and you smirked as you told him okay with a testing look.

The next week, there was a meeting with the rest of the staff after school was out of session in the multipurpose room. You took a seat next to Stephanie, or Mrs. Bale, as Harry sat in the row in front of you on the end with Mr. Ken. He was a bit older than Harry, already had that salt and pepper kind of hair and you thought he pulled it off really well, but he was already attractive to begin with.

“Thank you, everyone, for sticking around to attend this meeting. It’s Friday and I know everyone wants to go home, so I’ll keep it short,” Mrs. Morgan started, “So in one week on Saturday, there is a very special anniversary coming up, and that is the school’s 40th anniversary!” She said excitedly as she clapped her hands.

There was small chatter as everyone let out ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’, saying how that’s exciting and a big milestone.

“And we would like to do something to celebrate that—nothing huge, but I’ve already coordinated with a hotel to let us rent out their conference room for next week, and I’ve also hired an event coordinator to grab some decorations. But as for helping set up, I need everyone’s help for rearranging that.” Everyone nodded, not thrilled with the fact that they had to help out with organizing this event. “Just maybe if you can take the time of your busy lives and exhausting job, if some of you can, that would be great.”

Mrs. Morgan then started talking about what would be served, and to sign up if any of the staff were vegan or vegetarian. She also talked about games and photo booths, and expected everyone to participate and be a good sport because it would be a lot of fun when there are more people involved in the activities.

“Also, it is formal wear because the conference hall is a very luxury hotel that overlooks the coast. And besides, you get to dress up, so that’s always fun!” She said cheerfully as she was clearly very excited for the event.

The meeting didn’t go past twenty five minutes as people mainly chatted or asked questions on the location and capacity.

“Alright, everyone is free to go. If you’d like to sign up to help your dear principle set up for next Friday, please sign this clipboard right here.” She waved the clipboard in the air and set it down on the stage as the staff and teachers got up, and headed out of the multipurpose room and some stayed back to ask questions or sign the clipboard.

You stood up from your chair as you gathered your purse and backpack where you keep various folders of your student’s class work, homework, quizzes and tests.

“Gotta get to the kiddos, finally,” Stephanie said as she began to walk, and noticed that you weren’t following. “You coming?” She asked as she turned around.

“I’m just going to sign up for next Friday. I’ll see you on Monday,” you bid her goodbye.

“Oh, you’re an angel for wanting to help out. I’ll see you next week!” She said her goodbyes as she walked out of the room, and you walked towards the stage to sign your name up for setting up the event as well as writing your name down on the list of vegetarians, although you are pescatarian.

You scanned the list to see if there were any teachers you were close with signed up, but so far not many you really know personally, just the occasional hello and how are you. There were only about three people who signed up so far, including you, and you hoped that more people who write their name down and you also hoped the conference hall wasn’t that big because there were only three people helping out, then it would probably take a while to decorate and set everything up.

As you put the clipboard back down onto the edge of the wooden stage before taking one last glance at it, you turn around to be met with a hard chest, causing you to halt back slightly, and soft grunt coming out of your mouth.

Harry was staring right at you as you looked up, you gave him a look as you wondered why he was in your way and standing behind you so closely.

“Watch it, Mr. Styles,” you said, trying to pass by him, but he shifted towards the right as you took a step to your left, making you both face to face again.

“You were the one who bumped into me, Miss,” he said back with a smirk on your face.

You simply rolled your eyes, exhaustion taking over your mind as you’d rather not bicker with him at the moment. He noticed your tiredness, and kept his mouth shut and his games to himself as he let you walk by him. He picked up the clipboard, glancing down at it as he saw your name written down on the third line.

He felt a bit bad that only three people signed up to help out next Friday, especially considering the first two people were Kyle and Saya (Mr. and Mrs. Terrance) who both are way older, and it would be dangerous for them to lift anything heavy. Plus, he probably knew that you would take care of everything if they couldn’t lift anything, but he didn’t want all the work to be unloaded on you, so he decided to grab the pen and write his name down. He also signed his name on the vegetarian list as well.

Once he turned back around, you were already gone, so he lugged his black leather briefcase with him to the parking lot where he saw you walking towards your car. He snuck up behind you, making you squeal and gasp.

“You need to stop sneaking up on me,” you said as you caught your breath and fished for your keys in your purse.

“Thought you liked it?” He asked sarcastically, and you scoffed.

“Aww, annoying,” you stated.

“Aww, you too,” he said right back in the same tone as you, making you playfully roll your eyes, making a small chuckle fall from your lips.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“Just wanted to say that we’re on the event committee for setting up next Friday,” he said, and you raised your brows.

“Oh, goodie. More moments where you get to mess with me,” you told him in an unexcited tone as you gave him a look that told him you found him annoying.

“Please, you like when I tease you,” he said in a more low tone; his voice was deep as shivers ran down your spine.

His words had come out naturally, and his eyes slightly widened at what just came out of his mouth, hoping you didn’t take it the wrong way because it can be taken differently. And you didn’t miss what he said, especially how he said it.

You hadn’t noticed the position you were both standing in and if someone were to walk by, they would definitely have some eyes on you; your back was against the trunk of your car as he stood quite close as he looked down at you while you looked up. It was like you were back to the day you first met him when you stumbled into the wrong classroom and he stared you down until you got up out of your chair. But this time, he was much closer and it seemed like he was definitely not annoyed at you.

And the slightest bit of sweat had run down your neck as you felt hot under his gazing green eyes and the bit of sun was shining right down on you both. You felt a bit nervous under his stare as it can come off quite intimidating, but through the years of knowing Harry, you knew how to bite back.

“That’s too bad though, isn’t it?” You asked, and he raised his brows. “That you would never know if I liked being teased or not.”

With that, you didn’t even wait to hear his response as you shifted to the side, turning around to walk to the driver’s side. He opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to come out of it as he was shocked to hear your words.

A smirk was present on your face as you chuckled a bit from his reaction before you said, “I’ll see you next week, Mr. Styles.”

The weekend flew by with the slightest bit of drizzle, but luckily, Monday came in with sunshine. You were able to steal Harry’s mail successfully and hide it in the cabinets of the lounge room, but you were disappointed because he found it within ten minutes, and probably because you made the dumb mistake to put it where all the sugar is, so that was your fault. 

On Wednesday, you were surprised to see your milk in your fridge until you remembered Harry telling you that he was probably going to steal something else of yours that doesn’t require your milk spoiling. So, you skeptically searched your room as you tried to find something that was obvious that he stole, but you saw everything in place and nothing that you knew was taken. 

With a confusing expression on your face, you continued on with your day. 

It wasn’t until after lunch when you noticed something was different when you sat in your chair. Looking around, you felt like something was off when you leaned back. Your students were chatting as the movement of the chairs slid against the floor. You gave them about ten minutes to get situated because you weren’t one of those teachers who didn’t allow your students to use the restroom after lunch because they “should’ve gone at lunch.” 

So, you sat there wondering what felt so off about sitting down as you had five more minutes left until you had to teach. But once you figured it out, you gasped, telling your students that you would be back in three minutes and that you were going next door. 

Luckily the setup of the inside of the school is one large room with big divider walls for each classroom, so you didn’t have to go outside and you could practically hear other classrooms as well. 

Stomping over to Harry’s classroom, you walked in and he was sitting on his chair with a smirk on his face as he had his hands on the back of his head, telling his students to take out a math worksheet. He had heard you tell your class that you were leaving for just a few minutes, and he immediately knew that you were headed to his class. As you walked over to his desk, he turned towards you with a sly grin. 

“Oh, hello there. To what do I owe this pleasure of you visiting me?” He said in a very obvious tone, knowing that he’s done something. 

You took a deep breath, “You stole my footrest.” He slightly turned his head to the side as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. “You know, the one under my desk?” You clarified, and he opened his mouth as he realized what footrest you meant. “Where is it?” You really didn’t want to disrupt everyone’s class looking for it, so you just asked him. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” he said, and he was really getting on your nerves.

You didn’t want to put up with him, so you didn’t answer back as you took a look around his room until you noticed that he was way too comfortable in his chair. Looking at him weirdly, you walked around the desk to where he was sitting to find his sock covered feet resting on your footrest. 

“Ugh, Harry!” You slightly pushed his chair, causing it to roll to the side a bit. 

“Isn’t this what you do? Take your shoes off when the class is working?” 

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you get to do it too,”  you said before you bent down and roughly pushed his feet off, grabbing your footrest. 

“Woah, if you wanted to get under my desk, you should’ve just said so,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, quickly getting back up and backing away from his desk.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said quietly for only him to hear as his students were distracted doing their classwork. 

“Language. See you Friday night, by the way,” he said before you made your way out of his classroom and towards yours. 

It was only Wednesday, and you thought the days couldn’t go by any slower. 

Friday rolled around, and you already knew it was going to be the longest day of the week. 

With work, and staying two hours after to wait and head to the venue to help, you already knew you were going to crash easily once you got home. And on top of it, Harry was going to be there as well, so you kept the interactions with him limited during work hours because you simply just did not want to put up with when you had a long day ahead of you. 

It wasn’t like you hated him--because you really didn’t. You tolerated and are civil with each other, and you’ve never gotten a chance to get to know him because all you two do is steal each other’s things. Besides, you really had no reason to hate him because you do the same thing to him. 

Luckily, he sensed that you didn’t really want to talk to him, so he knew to not bother you. He figured that you were having a long week, and he made it worse by stealing your footrest on Wednesday and to make matters even more worse, he bickered with you and made innuendos that you didn’t appreciate. So, ultimately he felt a bit bad for that and left you alone. 

Work seemed to go by pretty quickly, and you were already on your way to the venue; the time reading 4:30 p.m, and you hoped setting everything up didn’t take long. Did you regret signing up? Maybe as exhaustion took over you as you drove. But you know that you wouldn’t later on once you had finished decorating. Plus, you felt bad that there were only two people who signed up before you. 

The venue was about thirty minutes away from the school, and when you walked in, the conference hall was completely empty besides the uncovered tables and chairs, but luckily, it wasn’t a huge room. But there were no decorations yet or centerpieces, and you felt like it was going to take a while. Harry arrived right when you did along with Kyle and Saya. 

Mrs. Morgan had assigned you all different jobs so the work would be faster and everyone would finally go home. You were assigned to draping curtains in the entrance and on the window. Harry was in charge of carrying tables and boxes in and out of the storage room of the hotel. Kyle and Saya were placing table cloths on the tables and seat covers, along with placing centerpieces. 

Everyone was working hard for about an hour, and you were on a ladder, reaching for the top of the door frame to hang one side of the curtain. Thankfully, you decided to switch your mules from work to sneakers because you probably wouldn’t have worked as fast as you were. 

Kyle and Saya followed the hotel manager to a different storage closet to get more table cloths for the food table as Harry was still carrying chairs into the room. But you were having trouble draping the sheer curtain over the curtain rod. 

You were completely alone in the room as sweat dripped down your back from how hard and fast you’ve been working until Harry came into the room with his sleeves rolled up as he carried four chairs that were stacked on one another. You hadn’t seen him come in as you were still trying to hook the curtain, and you always didn’t realize the ladder was slowly closing in as you kept moving around. And Harry quickly put the chairs down, rushing over to you as he saw the ladder tipping and you were still working. 

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the ladder completely tipped over, causing you to fall off the ladder. You thought you were going to be met with the hard ground, but instead you were being caught in someone’s arms as you two hit the ground. Grunts came out of both of your mouths from the impact of the fall. Luckily, the ladder fell sideways rather on the both of you because that would have been a painful mess. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, looking over and seeing Harry lying flat on his back with his eyes closed and one of his hands on his back. “Holy shit. Are you okay?!” 

Harry moved on his side to put pressure on his back as he was in a bit of a fetal position. Your body was sat against his as your back was against his stomach. 

“Fuck, that hurts,” he groaned out. 

“Harry, let me see if I can get some ice,” you were about to get up when he placed his available hand on your knee, stopping you from his touch. 

“No, don’t leave. Just…need a minute,” he said softly as his eyes were still closed. You nodded, staying in your seated position against him as you took your hand and rubbed his back. It was quite sweet, considering how you both normally acted towards each other, but you felt really bad that he was the one that had to take the pain. 

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and remembering where he was. He sat up on his elbows, and you stood up to help him up. 

“You sure you’re okay?” You asked cautiously, not wanting him to collapse on you. 

“Yeah. Just a bit sore, but it’ll go away. Feel like I’m old and got a bad back now,” he tried to joke, hopefully lightening up the situation, making it humorous. But you were still worried as you held onto his arm to hold him up just in case. 

You scoffed amusingly, “Please. You’re thirty years old. You’re not gonna feel that until you’re maybe fifty.” Harry chuckled, telling you that you were right before you let go of his arm. “By the way, thank you for catching me. I didn’t even notice the ladder tipping over until it fully did. But I, uh, feel really bad that you had to take the fall,” you said, scratching your neck. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. This pain will be temporary,” he brushed it off before taking a seat on one of the chairs for a moment to relax and not immediately go back to a strenuous task. 

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You said before walking away slowly, and he nodded. 

You two hadn’t been so nice or caring for each other like this, so it was definitely a new approach to it. But you didn’t mind it. Playing games with each other was fun, but you wished you had that sort of friendship where you could talk to him and not banter or bicker like a married couple because you think he was a genuinely cool and nice person, even though he really got annoying sometimes. Guess you just attracted annoying people, then. 

You took another glance at yourself in the rearview mirror to make sure your makeup and hair was okay before you got out of your car. You stood still next to your car, trying to see your reflection from the window as you fixed the top of your dress. A blush colored cami dress was looking amazing on your body with the straps crossing each other on the back with a slit on the side. You wore nude heels and dangly diamond earrings to accessorize. With your hair pulled back into a low bun, you thought you looked very nice--beautiful even. 

There weren’t many times when you got to dress up for the fun of it nor does your job require you to go full glam when going into work. But you think some of your students will love seeing you dress all pretty because they would always compliment you on your outfits. 

You walked in just on time, not wanting to be too early when no one is there or too late, but the perfect time. There were a decent amount of people already as the room was filled with teachers, staff, and some people from the school district; all celebrating the anniversary of the school. Everyone was dressed gorgeously--like you, probably having a blast wearing fancy clothes that was hanging from a hanger, waiting to be worn. 

The place looked great, and you were really happy with how everything turned out. The lights were dimmed a tad bit as LED lights were pointed towards the wall as music played softly through the speakers. 

Stephanie found you once you walked in as she took you to the bar because luckily, tonight’s event was an open bar, all thanks to Mrs. Morgan. 

“You look bangin’! That color is amazing on you,” Stephanie complimented as she hyped you up. She was practically the only person you’ve gotten really close with when you started teaching. While you were somewhat close to the other teachers, you and Stephanie hung out outside of school and gossiped your hearts away. 

“Please, you’re too kind, but thank you. You look great as well,” you said back after you did a little turn for her, causing you both to laugh as you sipped your mojito. 

You two chatted for a bit as she asked about setting everything up last night, and you told her about the incident between you and Harry. 

“See, I knew you would fall for him,” she said, making a pun out of it. 

“Ha ha, very funny. I really did feel bad for him though.” A slight frown pulled onto your face and Stephanie chuckled before you saw her brows raised. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” she said, and you turned around to find Harry in a lovely double-breasted cream colored suit and a light blue shirt under it. You try not to ogle him too much because you know that he’ll catch on and tease you about you checking him out, so you look at him quickly to find him already staring at you. 

“Evening, ladies. Already talking about me?” He smiled as his dimples popped out, making you swoon for him a tad bit more tonight, but you quickly snapped out of your thoughts.

“She was telling me about your little incident yesterday,” Stephanie said, and Harry nodded. 

“Yeah, how are you by the way? Are you still doing okay?” You asked, placing your hand on his arm before quickly pulling it away as you realized that you hadn’t asked him if he could be touched, but he smiled softly as you at the action. 

“I am, thanks for asking. I took some pain reliever medication and iced my back, so I’m fine. Just a bit sore, but all good,” he reassured, and you simply nodded, glad to hear that he was somewhat better than he looked yesterday. “I’ll be around. Gotta mingle and whatnot,” Harry said before walking away. 

After an hour of mingling and eating dinner, you were sat with Stephanie at a circle table along with Harry, Penelope or Miss Nguyen, and three other teachers who were in a deep discussion over wine. Going against your liking, Penelope was being a little too flirty with Harry, and you had no idea where this tinge of jealousy came from. You were hoping to sit next to him and Stephanie, but your plate was moved to the seat over as you went to get napkins. So now, you were on the left of Penelope instead of Harry. 

You saw her touch his arm as you did when you first arrived, but this time, she didn’t pull her arm away, and you thought he might’ve liked her arm there. With sneaking glances at the two of them as Stephanie watched some of the staff play the activities, you took a deep breath and stood up from your chair. 

“I’m going out to get some air,” you told Stephanie, not looking back to look at Harry rather wondering if he was watching you as you walked out. 

You took a step outside through the side doors of the venue that led to a balcony of the hotel. The hotel was on a hill overlooking the coast, and the sun was at its peak of saying goodbye for the day. The golden light illuminated everything around you as you felt calm, watching the sunset as you leaned against the railing before undoing your bun and letting your hair fall free. 

“Hey,” a voice from behind you said, and you quickly turned around and saw Harry standing a few feet away from you with one hand in his pocket while the other was holding a drink. 

“Hi,” you said back, turning back to the coast as Harry walked to stand beside you, watching the sunset as well. 

“S’pretty, innit?” 

“Yeah, it really is,” you responded, not turning your head to look at him, but being captivated by how the view in front of you looks. 

“You look amazing, by the way,” he complimented, and you blushed. Hard. You turned your head towards him as you caught him eyeing you up and down, and you felt intimidated. 

“You look great as well. I love your suit,” you said, hopefully to cover up your nerves. He said a thank you to you, and you turned your head back to the view as Harry continued looking at you. 

And you didn’t notice Harry looking at you the entire time as you watched the sunset. You didn’t know how entirely gorgeous you looked as the gold light was being melted onto your skin, making you look more beautiful than you already are. You also didn't know that Harry couldn’t simply stop staring at you because he was taken back and practically speechless with how the slightest bit of wind that was blowing the right way, which made your hair flow perfectly. You were the epitome of beauty, he thought, and he captured a mental picture to remember you in this moment because it was surely his favorite. 

“My ex never really liked watching the sunset,” you suddenly said, and Harry looked over at you. “I’m sorry. That was really random.” 

“No, no. It’s okay. You can talk about anything,” he encouraged. 

“Well, he never really liked watching the sunset with me. Always said that it was a waste of time and it was boring, but I don’t think so.” 

“It’s really not boring at all,” he said. 

“Yeah, I agree. But people have their own opinions. The earth deserves to be watched over.” You looked straight into the sun as it wasn’t bright enough to blind you anymore as you watched it turn into an orange tone. 

“Why did you two break up, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“We just fell out of love with each other. We were together for three years, and the last few months of our relationship, there wasn’t any love. He stopped taking me out on dates, and when I asked if he wanted to go out, he always said he was busy. I believe he never cheated on me, but he just wasn’t in love with me anymore, and I can say the same for him—I wasn’t in love with him anymore. So, we had a mature talk and figured it was best to part ways,” you explained. 

“And are you happier because of the breakup?” 

“Much happier,” you simply said, and it was the end of that conversation. 

You didn’t know why you were telling Harry about your past relationships, but there was just something about the sunset where you could be your most vulnerable self. 

After a few moments of admiring the earth and its wondrous ways, Harry spoke. 

“Do you mind doing me a favor?” He asked. 

“What’s that?” You turned your head to look at him as you asked. 

“Do you, uh, mind taking a picture of me?” He asked nervously, not knowing how you were going to react to a random question. Your brows raised as you nodded slowly. You didn’t expect him to be the type to be in front of cameras or want his picture taken, but you did it for him anyways. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” you said, and his face perked up as he smiled softly. Harry took his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera icon before handing it to you. You took several pictures of him so he would have options to choose from, but he was standing completely still as he looked into the camera. “Maybe, like…move around?” 

“What d’ya mean?” 

“I don’t know, like give me some different poses,” you said, and a soft ‘oh’ came out of his mouth before he started to stand differently, occasionally giving you a smile. 

You tried hiding your face behind his phone as you looked at him through the screen, snapping at every chance you think that’ll be a great photo turnout. But you already know that either way, the photos will come out great no matter what. 

After a few more clicks, you smiled and gave his phone back to him as you stood there, watching him scroll through the photos before typing on his phone rather quickly right after. You thought if he was sending them to someone or sending them in general, and you wondered if it was a significant other. 

Trying not to look into it too much, you turned around towards the doors, and asked him, “Do you want to head back?” He looked up from his phone, putting it away. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” he followed you through the doors and towards the room where everyone was dancing on the dance floor. Harry had immediately parted ways with you as you saw him walk towards the bar while Stephanie dragged you on the dance floor. 

You kept the going down and throwing it back very minimal as these were the people you worked with, and only stepped side to side, swaying your hips just a tad bit. 

Harry, on the other hand, had already downed three tequila shots within six minutes, and including the drinks he had before he went outside with you, he was pretty buzzed. He watched you dance with Stephanie, and chuckled at how you were restraining yourself. He thought you were adorable. The whirling thoughts of his mind when he watched you take his picture was stuck in his head. Head to toe was splashed in the golden light giving you the most goddess-like look as a slight smirk was plastered on your face as you took his picture. Yeah, you were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

It was a strange feeling to feel like this when it's been years of plotting against each other, and he hadn’t felt like this in a long while. The thumping of his heart had told him that he was falling. Just the mere vision of looking at you had made a butterfly in his stomach appear. You just had that effect on him. And it wasn’t like he was complaining, but he was definitely terrified of that feeling. 

So, that’s why he’s had three, now four, shots of straight tequila to ease his nerves and calm his mind as he watched you on the dance floor with a fifth shot in his hand. 

The music had turned into a much slower one, and the staff that brought their staff or significant other had taken over the dance floor as you walked back to the table to sit down. Stephanie brought her husband, who she immediately dragged to the dance floor, and you watched them smile and look at each other with hearts in their eyes as they swayed. You smiled, observing their faces and how in love they looked, somewhat wishing you had that as well. You hadn’t had a serious relationship in a long while--the last one being before you started teaching. 

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to find Harry smiling down at you with his hand out. 

“Would you like to dance?” He asked. You didn’t immediately grab his hand nor did you say anything; you just looked up at him in shock that he asked you. But after a few seconds, you grabbed his hand and nodded as he led you to the dance floor. 

Once you two were facing each other, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his shoulder as he wrapped his around his waist. His hold wasn’t too high or too low, but it was placed on the right spot for you to feel comfortable, and you appreciated that. 

As you two swayed to the soft classical piano ballad music, your eyes were elsewhere; looking at the other people dancing and the people sitting to find that no one was watching you both and that didn’t matter. So, you trained your eyes towards Harry, and of course, he was already looking at you. Being under his stare was something you were somewhat used to, but when it comes down to it, it made nerves along with the flutter of your heart appear. It was as if he was looking deep into your soul, trying to figure something out, and it remains once he’s found what he’s looking for. 

“I was surprised you asked me to dance,” you said suddenly. You felt him pull you a bit closer, so your stomachs are pressing against one another, but not your chests, and your face was very close to his, making butterflies in your stomach present as you wondered if he had the same feeling. 

“Why’re so surprised?” He genuinely asked as he swayed you both in a slow circle. 

“Thought you might’ve asked Penelope to dance.” 

“Why’s that?” His brow crinkled, wondering what brought these questions to mind. 

“I mean, you were awfully close to her during dinner,” you said honestly, and Harry let out a chuckle, which you didn’t find amusing like you usually did. “What’s so funny?” 

“Are you jealous?” His face inched closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his tongue. With how fast he was downing those shots, it was slowly starting to kick in. 

“I’m not jealous. It was just an observation,” you said. 

“No, I think you’re jealous. Didn’t like seeing me give another teacher attention, huh? Just wanted to give it all to you, is that it?” He asked with a hushed tone in his voice. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was full on teasing you as you tried to ignore the arousal that was forming inside of you. 

“I’m not, okay? I was just genuinely wondering because you know, you think I’m annoying and whatnot, so I was surprised you asked me to dance,” you tried brushing it off, and Harry scoffed shaking his head. 

“You’re saying a load of bullshit right now, and you don’t even know how I feel. Can you use your mouth for something other than talking?” The words had come out like rapid fire, and he is fully blaming it on the alcohol because he would never say something like that sober. And you know he wouldn’t say something like that to you, so you found it humorous as you were a bit shocked you heard those words come out of his mouth. You looked at him with your brows raised and your jaw slightly open as it somewhat curved into a smile as you tried not to laugh. Harry hadn’t said anything else, neither had you, but you did give him a shoulder shrug as if it was telling him ‘we’ll see.’ 

The song had ended, and you and Harry made your way off the dance floor and to the table. It was nearing 8:30, which means the party was almost over in thirty minutes. So, you decided to leave a bit early to grab some dessert on your way home since you didn’t really like the selection at the party. 

“Think I’m gonna head home now,” you told Stephanie who made her way to the table. 

“Aww, okay. We’re gonna head out soon too. But drive safe and I’ll see you on Monday.” You two hugged each other, telling each other that you both had fun tonight before grabbing your clutch. 

“Uh, I’ll see you on Monday,” you told Harry. 

“I’ll walk out with you. I’m heading home as well,” he said, and you nodded your head as he took a last sip of his drink before you two headed outside of the hotel. 

The air was chilly as the sound of the coast was heard under the starry night that was above. You shivered slightly, turning to Harry as he was taking his suit jacket off and holding it out for you to wear it. 

“Oh, it’s okay,” you waved off. 

“Please, I insist,” he said, and you nodded before turning around, facing your back towards him as he slipped his cream colored suit jacket on your shoulders. 

The piece of clothing was warm and smelled like his usual tobacco vanille. As you were wearing it, you felt a sense of comfort, like Harry himself was hugging you, and you cherished the feeling of it, even if it wasn’t the real thing. 

“I’m parked over here. I can drive you-” you pointed to the left of the parking lot. 

“Oh no, it’s okay. I took an Uber anyway. Just gonna wait here for a few,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, blinking a few times from the bright screen. He was clearly buzzed, and couldn’t really think straight, so you took his phone out of his hands. 

“Let me drive you home. It’ll give me a piece of mind, yeah?” You offered, and by the look of your face, you were persistent, so he nodded, following you to your car. 

You started driving down the hill and onto the main street before you said, “Is it okay if I stop by the Sweet Treats before I drop you off?” You asked, referring to the dessert place about two miles away from your place. 

“Yeah, of course. S’bit early, so you can go wherever,” he replied as he leaned his head on the shoulder of the seat, clearly a bit sleepy. You let out a chuckle as you continued driving as Harry drifted to sleep. 

When Harry woke up, he looked around out the windows and found himself alone in the car until he saw you quickly walking towards your car with his suit jacket still around you. And all he could think was how great you look in his clothes. 

“Ah, you’re awake. I got you a cupcake and two cookies. Didn’t know what kind of flavor you like, so I just guessed and got you chocolate,” you said once you got in the car and handed him his box of sweets. 

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you,” he smiles as he opened the box, and the sweetness of the desserts filled his nose. 

“Now, I’m going to need directions to your place,” you said as you started the car. 

Harry navigated you to his house, telling you to turn right here and turn left there. But you needed to make sure, asking him, “Wait, right here?” 

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes as you were driving slow so you don’t miss the turn. And luckily, there were no cars behind you. 

Once you finally parked in front of his house, you noticed that he didn’t leave that far from you because you’ve been in this neighborhood before as your cousin lives a few houses down; it was probably a five minute drive to your place. 

“Thank you for the ride, and the dessert,” he said, turning his head towards you, and making no effort to get out of the car yet. 

“You’re welcome. Couldn’t let you be in an Uber while intoxicated--just doesn’t sit well with me,” you said honestly. Harry nodded, telling you that he appreciated it as he looked at you deeply.

“Also, about what I said when we were dancing--I’m sorry about that. That was out of line of me,” he apologized, feeling quite embarrassed from his words, and knowing that he was going to think about what he said and beat himself up over it after you leave. 

You let out a breathy chuckle, “No worries. It was quite funny. But maybe I could use my mouth for something other than talking.”

“W-What?” He gulped nervously, slightly turned on from your teasing. 

“Maybe one day you’ll find out,” you said with a sly smirk on your face as you watched Harry scratch his neck and run his hand through his hair nervously. “Goodnight, Harry,” you bid him goodbye, and that was his cue to get out of your car already. It wasn’t like you wanted to kick him out, but you wanted him to think about your words for the night. 

And since it was still too early to go to sleep, maybe you’ll think about his words to.

It was Monday, a month later after the anniversary party, and you had Harry’s mail in your hand as you decided to stuff it into your filing cabinets that hold future worksheets and your students’ progress. 

It wasn’t until lunch when you were having the pasta you made the night prior as you watched a fashion competition on Netflix when you saw Harry stomp into your room. 

“Where’s my mail?” He asked immediately, not bothering to say hi to you. 

Ever since the party, your moods had changed towards each other. Of course, you both still messed with each other and annoyed one another, but the mood and energy between you two was different. And you didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. 

“Gotta find it, Mr. Styles,” you said as you took a bite of your food as you eyed him. You could tell he was beginning to get frustrated with you, but you didn’t see a reason to stop because it’s the same way with you when he hides your stuff. 

“Just hand it over. I’m not in the mood to put up with this right now,” he rolled his eyes as he huffed. 

“Now, those aren’t the rules. You made me find it until you just laughed and pointed at me, so now you have to-” 

“I swear to god, just give me my damn mail!” He said in a loud tone, not technically yelling, but enough for you to stop talking and finally notice how angry he looked. “Fuck, just give me my fuckin’ mail, so I could get out of here,” he added, waiting for you to make an effort to give him his mail, but you were too in shock by his words and tone that you didn’t move. “Well?” He said, arms crossed, and you snapped out of your thoughts and got up, walking over to your filing cabinet. 

Once you handed him his mail, he immediately snatched it, flipping through it as he walked out of your classroom with no thank you, and you swore that you heard him mutter ‘fuckin’ annoying’ as he walked out causing your stomach to drop. 

You sat back down in your chair, pushing your glass container away and turned off your phone as you took deep breaths, trying not to make a big deal out of it. But of course it was a big deal to you. You had thought that your relationship with Harry was doing okay, and you weren’t at each other’s throats, but that hope had all washed away within a minute as he raised his voice with you as if you were a little kid. 

Normally, you wouldn’t take bullshit like that, but this one seemed to hit differently as your eyes started to tear up and your hands started to shake. You got up from your seat, fast walking to the staff restroom before you let it all out. Your tears made its way down your face as you covered your mouth as muffled sobs echoed through the tiled walls. 

A week later, you headed straight to your classroom, deciding that you weren’t going to move Harry’s mail around. 

There was an awkward tension between you two, and Harry’s at fault for it. He knew that he shouldn’t have raised his tone at you because it was completely unnecessary, and he knew better than that. He ultimately felt really bad for talking to you like that, and he didn’t even say please in a calm manner, which he should have. 

Last Monday when he got back to his desk, he immediately knew that he was wrong for how he spoke, so he had gotten up and walked back to your classroom, only to find you already headed for the staff restroom. And he hoped you weren’t crying, but he had a feeling you were. 

After that day, he had gone into your room to try and apologize the entire week, but you would either be talking to a student or avoiding him as you saw him enter your classroom, so you exited, saying an excuse just to be out of his presence. He frowned as he watched you walk away, but it was very understandable and he didn’t blame you whatsoever. 

Now, after a week of pondering what to say to you, Harry walked over to his mailbox to see all of the envelopes in his box. With a small frown, he turned towards Nina who was watching him, and he saw her shrug as she continued doing her work. He walked to your classroom to find you on your laptop, round tortoise framed glasses sat on your nose, and he thought you looked absolutely adorable. Sitting on the side of one of the students’ desks in the front row, you didn’t even bother to look up at him. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can we talk?” 

“About what?” You asked, still not looking at him, but obviously knowing what he wanted to talk about. 

“Please, look at me?” He pleaded, and he saw you take a deep breath in, taking your glasses off before looking at him. “I-I’m sorry. For last week. It was so unnecessary to talk to you like that and I regret it so much. You didn’t deserve that at all.” 

You nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t deserve it. But can you explain to me why you talked to me like that?” 

“I was waiting on something from my cousin back home. He had sent me some stickers that he made for the class, and I really wanted to give my students them already. And when I couldn’t find my mail, I got frustrated and annoyed, and I took it out on you, which I shouldn’t have,” Harry explained, and your face remained neutral. 

“You know, I would’ve eventually given it to you if you would’ve asked nicely, but you raised your voice and called me annoying when this is the kind of game we play. And it’s not an excuse to talk to me the way you did,” you said sternly, but also calmly. Harry felt like he was a kid getting lectured, which he thought this is probably how you looked like when your students got in trouble, and he thought that it was great how you’re so calm. 

“Yeah, it’s no excuse whatsoever. I feel really bad, and I’m really sorry,” he offered a small but sad smile as you looked him in the eyes to see if he meant it, and thankfully, you didn’t find a spec of lie. 

“I forgive you,” you said, and Harry lets out a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean you go around talking to me or anyone like that ever again when they don’t deserve it,” you added. 

“Yeah, of course. It was just that moment, and I’m sorry it was you. But thank you for forgiving me,” he beamed gratefully and you nodded. “But just know that I think you’re more than annoying,” he confessed suddenly. 

“Do you?” You asked calmly, but on the inside, your heart was racing. 

“Yeah, way more than annoying. I mean I’ve known you for years, and I see you everyday. And I can’t believe this is the time when I’m about to confess this right now, but…” he took a deep breath before saying, “I like you. I really do.” Harry pursed his lips as you were looking at him with a shock expression, but your eyes were saying something else. 

They were almost telling him that you were happy to hear those words, but you didn't expect it and it was shocking to hear because of how sudden and how things escalated so quickly, but there was a hint of sparkle in your eyes, and for that, he remained hopeful. 

“You, uh, you like me?” You asked, wanting to make sure you’re not dreaming, but also wanting to hear it again. 

“I do. I like you. And I know it’s crazy to say it because the way we acted and treated each other seemed otherwise, but lately I’ve just been thinking about you nonstop and it’s driving me crazy,” he said with a small smile, still remaining hopeful.

“Harry-” 

“I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he interrupted. “Because I mean who would like someone that messes and bickers with you every chance they get. But maybe that was the reason why I did it.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously. 

“I guess… when I first met you, I thought you were way out of my league. And I know I put this front up to seem like I’m intimidating, but I’m not! I was actually intimidated by you,” he said honestly, and your eyes widened because you thought it was insane that this handsome man in front of you was intimidated by you. “And I kind of just wanted a reason for you to talk to me and see if we had this bond, and for some reason, I did a childish thing and stole your stapler-” 

“I knew it! You kept insisting that it was yours, but all of sudden ‘yours’ was gone and mine suddenly appeared,” you said excitedly causing him to laugh, which of course, made you join him as well. 

“Yeah, it was kind of immature, wasn’t it? But you started taking my things as well, and I was happy with that because at least we were interacting and talking y’know?” You nodded with a smile on your face. “And I may have acted cocky and whatnot, but I was just scared. I haven’t felt like this in a while, so I hid my feelings, and I couldn’t even believe myself when I confessed that I liked you, but I just needed to say it.”

“Harry, you know you should’ve just told me. But I get where you’re coming from. I was actually really intimidated by you, and I couldn’t believe I walked into the wrong classroom and practically trespassed,” you chuckled at the memory that was so long ago, but it was still so fresh in your mind. 

“It’s okay. You can trespass any time,” he joked. 

“But as time went by, I tried to deny my feelings for you, and then we started talking and it was less banter and more teasing, I knew I couldn’t push it away, so I accepted it,” you said, and he nodded his head with a look as if he’s trying to figure something out. 

“So, what you’re saying is…” he said, wanting to hear the full thing loud and clear. 

You laughed before you said, “I like you too, Harry.” 

The brightest smile was plastered on Harry’s face; dimples popping out with the crinkle by his eye present. You’d never thought you’d be the reason Harry would smile like that, let alone at you, but you weren’t complaining at all. His smile was contagious as you both let out giddy giggles, matching each other’s beaming grins. It was also beautiful as his cheeks had a tint of pink to it while running his finger on the tip of his nose, trying to hide his happiness. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door, turning both of your attentions to it, and Harry went to answer it since he was closer. When he opened the door, he found a small boy at your classroom doorstep, and you got up, walking over to your student. 

“Dawson? What’s up, buddy? Why’re you here so early?” You bent down as you talked to him, and you noticed that he had a sad frown on his face. “Are you okay?” 

“My mom dropped me off here early, so I’m here,” he said sadly, looking down at the floor. School started in about forty five minutes, which was usually too early to drop kids off as parents started dropping them off about twenty minutes before school. 

“Okay, that’s completely fine. Come in, yeah?” You stood on your feet, and moved out of the way to let him inside of the classroom. 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you?” He said once he put his backpack on his assigned chair. “You said that we could talk to you about anything, right?” 

“Yes, of course. Anything you like,” you said, reassuring him with a smile, and he nodded. 

“I’m going to head back to my classroom,” Harry said, and you nodded before Dawson spoke up. 

“No, wait!” He called out, and Harry stopped walking, giving your student his full attention. Dawson turned to you and asked, “Can Mr. Styles stay? He’s really nice when we have our buddy classroom days.”

You smiled at the young boy, “Of course he can--that is, if he can. Anything to make you comfortable.” 

“I’d be happy to stay for you, Dawson,” Harry offered him a smile as you walked over to the table in the back of the classroom that’s used for group work and teacher-students discussions. 

You sat at the octagon table, Dawson sitting on your right and Harry sitting on your left. You had completely turned your body towards Dawson as your back was facing Harry. 

“Dawson, since this is the first time we are speaking to each other one on one,” you turned around towards Harry, and softly grinned, and you turned back towards Dawson. “Well, two on one. But just know that whatever you say will stay between the three of us, and it will not leave this classroom, okay?” 

“Okay,” Dawson said softly. 

“Now, what’s on your mind?” 

Dawson began to tell you and Harry about how he feels neglected by his mother because of the reason that she’s starting to drop him off earlier than normal and not coming home until later as his aunt picks him up. He then told you two that he just feels a bit sad that he never gets to see his mom that much anymore, and how his father is rarely around, so he was quite torn. 

You felt your heart sink as you listened to him, making sure to not interrupt him as you and Harry listened to his words intently. 

“Okay, I’m done,” Dawson said, eyes a bit swollen from the tears that had fallen out of his eyes, and Harry got up to grab him a tissue box. 

“Dawson,” you started, “I’m sorry you have to go through that. Have you told your mom how you felt?” He shook his head as aggressively wiped his face with the tissue. 

“Never see her anymore.” 

“What about when she drops you off at school?” 

“I’m always eating breakfast in the car, so I never get a chance to,” he placed his elbow on the table as he leaned his face against his hand, while the other hand traced the outline of the polished wood. 

“What about your aunt? Have you told her anything?” Harry pitches in, and you slightly turn your head towards him, gratefully he’s being involved. 

Dawson’s face changed to a much lighter one as if he had a realization to what Harry had said. 

“Oh, I-I haven’t told her anything.” 

“Maybe if you’re comfortable, you can talk to her when she picks you up, and I’m sure she’ll tell your mom if you’re not comfortable doing so,” Harry said, and Dawson nodded in agreement. 

“I want you to know that, your mother not being there for you at the moment or your father not being in the picture does not have to do with you. Don’t think that it has to do with you, okay? You’re good enough and you’re an amazing person that I’m so lucky to have you in my class,” you said, emphasizing your words so it was stuck in his mind. 

“You’re a great student, and my class and I are happy we’re that we’re classroom buddies,” Harry adds with a bright and reassuring smile on his face that lightened the mood, and added a smile on Dawson’s face as well. 

“C-Can I give you two a hug?” Dawson asked, standing up from his chair. 

“Of course, come here,” you scooted your chair back, opening your arms as you welcomed him into your arms. 

You knew that he really needed this hug by how tight he was hugging you, but you didn’t mind, glad to comfort him for as long as he needed as you rubbed his back as he buried his face into your shoulder. Once he let go, you rubbed his shoulders for good measure before he walked around you and over to Harry. 

Harry widely opened his arms before Dawson placed himself between them as they both gave each other big hugs. You heard Harry whisper how proud he was of the boy in his arms, and your heart swooned at the sight, making you blush and practically have hearts in your eyes as you witnessed their moment. 

There was a moment when Harry looked up from Dawson’s shoulder to look at you. A hint of gleam sparkled in both of your eyes as you looked at each other. Although you’ve just confessed your feelings for each other, you knew that this was going to be completely special. 

You were sitting on the small couch that was in the back corner of the room. You were quite proud of this area of your classroom as you wanted to make it a comfortable place for your students to read or take a break at as you decorated it with a cream colored couch, a floral rug, and hung fairy lights along the wall. 

Sometimes you would take a seat on the couch during lunch when you were getting tired of sitting on your chair where your desk was, so it was a nice change up. 

With your container filled with your lunch on your lap as you looked down at your laptop, sat beside you and earphones in your ears, you saw Harry walk in with his lunch in his hands, a beaming grin on his face once he saw how comfy you looked. 

“Hey,” he greeted, taking a seat next to you on the couch. He completely turned his body towards you with his arm on the back of the couch as you did as well. 

“Hi,” you said with a smile. “What’s for lunch?” 

“Salmon with some veggies. I made it last night,” he said proudly, and you looked at his meal and ooh’ed. “Try some?” 

“Course I will. But you also just want me to boost your ego even more because I’m sure it’s good,” you teased. 

“Maybe. Open up f’me, yeah?” He said, cutting a piece of salmon and sticking a piece of green bean on his fork before bringing the fork up to your mouth. 

You tried not to think of his words so literally as there have been many times he would talk as if he was in the bedroom, not that you know anything about what he’s like in the sheets nor how you know his lips feel against yours. But you’re not complaining about his word choices; they do get you a bit turned on, but you simply couldn’t do anything about it. 

With your mouth open, he fed you a bite of his lunch and a ‘mm’ was heard from you as you chewed. 

“Wow, that’s really good,” you complimented the chef as you wiped your mouth with a napkin. 

“Well, thank you very much, darling,” he said, and you blushed. 

It’s been a month since you and Harry have known how you two feel about each other, and it was full of two days out of the week, eating lunch together. He had stumbled into your classroom one day, and asked if you wanted to have lunch together, and you said yes. So, lunch dates stuck, whether it’d be your classroom or his because he also has a comfy corner in his classroom with a record player next to the couch. When you two didn’t feel like staying inside, you would grab a bite to eat together. It also definitely made finding a place to eat much easier since you two found out you were both pescatarians. 

The mood is definitely different with each other as you two have slowly gotten to know one another as you tell each other about your childhood, past stories, interests, etc. You already knew that he was such a kind person, despite the bickering, but truly talking to him had confirmed your assumptions. 

Within the month had also made you earn a pet name from him. From your past relationships, you were always called babe (along with some nicknames from inside jokes), which in all honesty, you never really liked; it was a generic pet name from a significant other and it was an okay pet name. But hearing the word name ‘darling,’ especially from Harry, it was like butter. The name rolled off of his tongue, and you caved in as you continuously looked at his lips right after, wanting him to call you that multiple times. 

“I know my lunch isn’t all that interesting to feed you, but we can share a pie I made earlier this week if you’d like?” You said, looking down at your food as you only had a sandwich with avocado, tomatoes, and lettuce. 

“Sounds good,” he smiled before taking another bite of his delicious lunch. 

After a few minutes of talking about funny stories that happened during class and upcoming assignments, you changed the subject and nervously asked him a question that has been on your mind. 

“So, I was wondering…” you started, but trailed off as nerves crept up your skin. 

“That’s always interesting,” he teased. 

“Say, how about we go on a date? Like a real and official date?” You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and you saw a smirk slowly spreading onto his face as he blushed a bit. 

“Are you asking me out?” He was completely flattered and loved how you made the effort to ask him because he’s been thinking about it for an entire month, but was too nervous to do so. 

“Answer the question,” you chuckled. 

“I’m so flattered you're asking me. Y’know, really boosts my ego, let me tell you,” he stalled as he laughed, and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

When you had thought he was a kind guy, despite the bickering and being annoying with one another, the annoying Harry was still there. 

“Let me deflate your ego then, and take it back,” you joked, and his face immediately went down. His beaming smile as he teased and joked was gone and was replaced by a frown. 

“Hey, no. Don’t take it back. I was just messing with you,” he said softly, making you giggle from the change of moods he just went through. 

“Then answer the question, you big baby.” 

“Would love to go on a date with you. Of course I would,” he finally answered, and his smile, once again, was present. He reached over to hold your hand as his thumb caressed your skin. “I’ve been wanting to ask you since last month, but it was always a bad time or I would get nervous and come into your room to ask you a completely different question.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet. No need to be nervous anymore. But now I’m noticing that those days you came into my classroom, you always acted strange, but I brushed it off since this is so new and fresh still,” you explain, and he let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, those were the times when I was supposed to ask you on a date. But I’m glad you asked me, and I would absolutely love to go,” he smiled, still hand in hand with you. 

“I’m happy you said yes. I was wondering if you’d like to come over? I’ve been dying to try this new recipe out. It’s a Thai Coconut Curry rice, and I got it off YouTube, and I was watching it late at night and just wanted to make-” you paused, noticing Harry looking at you funny, but he was really just admiring how you’re just adorable when you ramble about things you’re passionate about. “I mean, if you think it’s too soon, I can look for a restaurant if-” 

Your idea of inviting him over had immediately been thrown out the window because he was looking at you funny, and was probably thinking that it was definitely too soon to be at each other’s houses, which you now see. But you didn’t know Harry was just simply adoring the way you talk. 

“No, no. I’d love to come over if you’d still have me. And I’d love to try that dish out,” he reassured you. 

“Really? It’s not too soon?” You asked, wanting to make sure he was okay with it. 

“Yes, I’m sure. And there’s no real timeline in how people should do things when they’re in a relationship. So, we’re going at whatever pace we both want,” he said, and you took in his words, thinking he was completely right. 

For the rest of your lunch breaks, you both scheduled a date and time, which was going to be this Saturday at 7 p.m, and as you suggested that time and day, you watched Harry look up as if he was thinking if he was available that day before he agreed to those suggestions. 

This was going to be the first date you’ve had in a long while, but you were excited knowing that it was with Harry.

It was a brutal four days of waiting for date night to finally arrive, and you’ve never been so happy until Saturday. 

You had barely gotten any sleep due to your thoughts racing on what to talk to him about and what you should wear, but you managed to get about seven hours of sleep, which was really well considering how late you stayed up. 

Saturday morning, you decided to wake up at eight a.m to go on a run. You had so much energy inside of you, despite waking up, and you needed to let it all out of you so you’re not too overly excited. So, you thought a good run would exhaust you for a few hours. 

You ran around your neighborhood and on the main road for a good two hours. You just had so many things on your mind that you were thinking that you lost track of time as your legs continued on as you were in a daze. 

It was a beautiful day. Although there were a bit of clouds, the sun was out and shining. Thankfully, not at a brutal temperature where you couldn’t go out for a run. But it was the perfect weather for the morning. 

You got back to your house at around 10 a.m, immediately heading for the kitchen for a glass of water. The  coldness streamed down your throat, making you sigh in relief as exhaustion took over you. With tiredness settling over you, you knew that you needed to shower before anything else as sweat was dripping down your back, making your shirt stick to your skin, so you made your way to the shower, stripping down as the warm water hit your skin as you washed off your morning run. 

By 12 p.m, you had lunch and caught up on some grading; being very proud and impressed all your students did really well on the assigned homework. After grading papers, you decided to take a quick nap before you had to go out and get some groceries for tonight’s dinner, and the last thing on your mind before you were lulled into sleep from your run, was how a particular man you were excited to see at night. 

Once you’ve woken up and gotten groceries, buying plenty of spices, veggies, and a Thai curry paste, it was 4 p.m, making you right on time with the schedule you had in your head. You started chopping the veggies before you sautéed them to a beautiful golden brown as the sizzle of the pan brought music to your ears. 

You had a show playing in the midst of cooking that you’ve watched two hour long shows that you didn’t realize the time was now six p.m, meaning you’d have to get ready. As you walked to your room, you heard the splatter of liquid hitting the ground outside, so you looked out your window, seeing the sky had turned grey as rain fell down. 

Quickly, you grabbed your phone, opening your message up with Harry before you typed: (bold) started raining hard just now! Be safe when driving, and see you soon! You hit send before opening up Spotify, playing ABBA to hype yourself up as you sang along while getting ready. 

You opted for a minimalistic makeup look since you were just at home, and a pair of black cropped flared trousers with a nice white blouse. You looked yourself in the mirror and felt satisfied with your look, giving yourself a smile before you took a deep breath as nerves were catching up to you. Checking your phone, the time read 6:55 and no text back from Harry, which you assumed he was getting ready or on his way. 

Keeping yourself busy, you checked on the dish you were making that was on low heat as it simmered, and wiping down the counter and fixing the throw pillows are your couch. Your tasks didn’t take that long, about seven minutes in total, as it had already passed 7 p.m. 

He would arrive any minute, you thought. 

But you thought wrong. 

You had waited thirty minutes before you sent him another text asking if he was on his way, but later on you got nothing. Worriedly, you tried not to let your mind think the worst, but it was difficult not to because he wasn’t answering his phone whatsoever and the weather was horrible. 

As you waited another hour and a half with a glass of wine sitting in front of you, you were starting to get angry. How could he stand you up and not call you? You had thought you two were doing really well, and he seemed to want to go on a date with you, so why would he change his mind so quickly? 

It was 9 p.m when you decided to call it a night a bit earlier than you planned, so you placed the food you made in a container and washed the pot before grabbing the plates and utensils you placed on the dining table, and putting them away. The entire time, you were silent as disappointment and an upsetting feeling hit you. You really tried not to cry as you did your normal skin care routine as if it was a normal night, but it wasn’t. 

But when your head hit your pillows, the disappointment had settled, making you release your tears, hating that you’re going to bed feeling the complete opposite as you did when you woke up, 

The night was slow as you watched the night from your bed, looking out at the window. It was most likely slow because you couldn’t sleep—only getting about three hours of sleep as you were woken up by the sun at six a.m. 

It wasn’t until about nine when you decided to get out of bed to start the day. You didn’t really have anything planned, but if you were to stay in bed, then you would continue being sad that your date didn’t show up. 

You were waiting for your coffee to brew when you heard your doorbell go off, grabbing your attention as you looked towards your door. You then looked down, noticing that you were wearing a flowy shirt with your pajama pants. Shrugging to yourself, you decided to walk to the door, not caring who’s behind it as you think that it may be your sister or cousin stopping by in the morning as they sometimes did. 

But you were completely wrong. 

It was the person who was supposed to be at your house last night just as he’s stood on your doorstep, but it’s the morning after, which doesn’t make it any better. 

You scoffed, shaking your head as if you couldn’t believe it. 

“You’re a bit late to dinner, don’t you think?” You immediately tell him as your words came out as an obvious tone. 

Harry expected those kinds of words to come out of you once you opened the door. He knew that you had just woken up, and it wasn’t smart that you were already in such a bad mood. Looking down at your pajama outfit, he tried not to let himself get too distracted by the way your nipples hardened under your white shirt that poked out due to the warmth of your house colliding with the coldness that is the outside. 

“I can explain-”

“Seems like you’re always explaining, huh?” You stressed, huffing as you were closing the door, but he quickly placed his hand on it, stopping it from closing him out. 

“No, please! I swear I have a good reason,” he pleaded. You looked him in the eye, and saw a hint of sadness, like he really just needed to explain it to you. 

“Y’know if you didn’t want to go out with me, you could’ve just told me that. Didn’t need to stand me up and have me wait for hours with a home cooked meal,” you opened the door a bit wider, but not moving so you could let him in. Instead, you crossed your arms as he stood at your doorstep. 

“I’m sorry. I did want to go out with you. But there was something I needed to do,” he said softly, looking down. 

“And you couldn’t even think to call me?” 

“I know I should’ve. I feel horrible, but my daughter needed my help, so I just couldn’t,” he confessed. Harry was really holding that in for a while, and he sighed in relief once he said the word. He noticed your change of face as it softens; you were taken back, and part of you was shocked because of how off guard that was. 

“D-Daughter?” 

“Yeah. I have a six year old daughter. She’s in the first grade with Mrs. Monet,” he confirmed with a small nod. He was really nervous telling you as his hands shook and his heart pounded, not knowing how you would take his news. 

“How did I not know this?” You said, more to yourself than asking Harry. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just…I didn’t know how you would take it, so I refrained from telling you,” he apologized. And he did notice that it was like he was apologizing to you a lot (the other time was from when he raised his voice at you); it wasn’t like he had trouble expressing his words or needs to say something, he just needed a minute to gather his thoughts and wait for how other people react to what he has to say. 

“Harry, I teach the third grade where I absolutely adore my students, so I should love kids in general. I’m gonna take the news well,” you said more lightly, and your words made Harry’s shoulders drop as he relaxed a bit more. “What’s her name?” You asked as your anger with him had completely flew out the door, excited to hear all about her. 

“Her name is Bella Anne,” he smiled as he looked down. You wondered why he was always looking down as if he was a shy kid, but you brushed it off until he spoke again. “I know it’s a lot to take in and I still have to explain what happened, and it may be too soon to others, but again, we’re on our own timeline…” 

“What are you trying to say?” You asked curiously. 

“Would you like to meet her?” He asked nervously, and a big smile was placed on your face as you excitedly nodded your head and said yes. “So, would right now be too soon?” 

Your eyes widened, “Like right now?” 

“Yeah, she’s actually right here,” Harry looked down and averted his eyes slightly towards the side, right next to the door frame as he brought his hand out. And that was when you knew why he was always looking down so subtly. 

The little girl wearing blue denim overalls, a white t-shirt with a tan coat over along with some white sneakers, held her father’s hand as she looked up at you with her green eyes; the same as Harry’s. Your eyes immediately sparkle as you look at her, bending down so you’re eye level with her. 

“Hi, Bella. It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled at her as you greeted her. She shyly smiled as she waved at you before looking up at Harry causing you to look up at him as well to see what he had to say. 

“Go on, bub. Ask her what you wanted to ask,” he shook her hand in encouragement as Bella looked back at you. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Bella finally spoke, and your heart flutters at how cute you think her voice is. 

“I actually haven’t had breakfast yet. Why do you ask?” 

“Because we brought breakfast for you!” She let go of Harry’s hand before she bent down to pick up the paper bag, smiling as she held as much as she could up. You gasped, placing your hand on your cheek from the thoughtful gesture. 

“Well, I’ll only eat the food on one condition,” you proposed. Bella’s face dropped as she waited for you to tell her what that condition was, glancing up at Harry quickly before looking back at you. “You two have to join me for breakfast.” 

With that, her face lifted once again as she beamed at you and quickly said an okay. You opened the door and moved out of the way so Harry and Bella could walk in. Bella skipped into your house with no hesitation as Harry called out for her, but you told him that it was okay. 

“You didn’t need to do this,” he told you, feeling bad that he hasn’t even told you the full story of what had happened last night, and you being the angel that you are, openly invited both of them into your house when you had every right to slam the door in his face. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk later, but for now, let’s eat? I got coffee ready,” you said, brushing it off, and he nodded, still knowing that the conversation needed to happen. 

He followed you to the dining table where Bella had already taken the food out of the bag. She sat there proud of her contribution, and Harry said ‘good job’ and ‘thank you’ to her as he always did when she helped set the table. You got three plates from the cabinet and utensils from the drawer; the same ones you set from last night, but this time, with a plus one. 

You and Harry opened the containers of food as there were various breakfast dishes for the three of you to share. 

“So, Bella. What’s your favorite movie?” You asked, wanting to get to know her better. 

“I like Mamma Mia! That’s one of my favorite movies, but the next one would have to be The Princess and the Frog!” 

You gasped, “Mamma Mia is my favorite movie too! And The Princess and the Frog is an excellent choice.” Bella nodded, agreeing with you. 

Harry watched the two of you interact; talking about all of your interests and dislikes, most Harry already knew about, so he sat back and ate as he thought the sight before him was the most precious thing he’s witnessed. He’s noticed Bella’s eyes gleam as she talked her heart out, and how you gave her your full attention when she did. And he thought that the interaction and connection was so important to him when he introduced a potential love interest to his daughter. The bond between you and Bella wasn’t like anything he had seen before, and he was grateful it was with you. 

After an hour of talking at the table, Harry told Bella it was okay if she wanted to play on her iPad for a bit, and she nodded her head before asking you if it was okay. 

“Of course you can, sweet,” you said, giggling a bit because she felt the need to ask you, but you thought it was sweet; the pet name completely slipped out as if it were natural for you to say it, but you think it really suits her, and by the way her eyes lit up when you called her that, you think she likes it as well. 

Bella opened her backpack, grabbed her iPad out, before walking to Harry, whispering to him. 

“Go on and ask her,” he said to her before she walked around the table to you. 

“Do you think I can get the WiFi password please?” She asked politely, smiling to yourself as kids nowadays know so much of technology from a very young age. 

“Of course,” you said before she unlocked her iPad. 

You noticed her wallpaper, all too familiar because you were the one who took the picture. It was a picture of Harry in front of the sunset with his mouth open as he smiled with his two hands up, throwing peace signs at the camera. 

“I like how you put your wallpaper as your daddy,” you complimented, looking up at Harry as he blushed. 

“Me too! He went to this party type of thing, and I told him to take a picture in front of the beach!” She beamed. 

“Yeah, bub. She was there,” Harry pitched in. 

Bella suddenly gasped loudly, “Are you the pretty teacher that took his picture and bought us cupcakes?!” She asked excitedly. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. That would be me,” you said as you nervously chuckled. 

“Thank you! Those cupcakes were so good!” She thanked you, remembering how good those cupcakes tasted, and you told her that you were glad that you liked them. 

After you typed in your WiFi password, you told Bella that she could sit on the couch in the living area. 

“Twenty minutes, okay?” Harry called out as she walked away. 

“Okay!” Her soft voice yelled back as she took a seat on the couch. 

Your head turned towards Harry as he turned to you as well. Both of you had a moment of silence as you two looked at each with a soft and admiring look. Things were way different now as you now know Harry has a daughter, but in all honesty, you don’t mind it whatsoever. You’ve managed to adore that little girl in a matter of an hour and a half, and you think she’s the most beautiful little girl ever. 

“So the pretty teacher, huh? I liked her wallpaper,” you said with a mischievous grin, and Harry snickered. 

“Yeah, I kind of underexaggerated--should’ve said ‘the gorgeous teacher that I like who took the wallpaper,’” he flirted, and you raised your brows as you blushed, thinking that was incredibly smooth of him. After a minute of thinking how to go about this conversation, you spoke up.

“Do you want to tell me about last night?” You asked, and Harry nodded. 

“Bella was a bit in a bad mood from the morning she woke up. Couldn’t really do anything to please her, so I was pretty frustrated because she couldn’t really explain what was happening to her, just threw a tantrum while holding her head, and then I figured out that she had a headache, and that’s no fun,” he explained, and you nodded as he said so. “It was literally hours of crying nonstop for hours. The only time she stopped crying was when I gave her something to eat,” he chuckled. 

“Everyone stops being pouty after some food,” you joked. 

“She did for a bit, but then it was right back to crying. My mum came over because she was supposed to watch her while I was with you, and usually her Nan would cheer her up, but not this time. After a few hours of trying to comfort her, she started becoming clingy, and when I would leave her side, she would just start crying. By this point, I was just exhausted, so I held her as she slept, which then resulted in me sleeping, also thinking I would wake up just in time, but waking up at midnight.” 

The look on his face was a disappointing one as he couldn’t believe he missed the first official date, and if you were to forgive him, he’d make it up to you with every date you would give him. 

“I understand, H. I can imagine being a single parent is hard. At least, I hope you’re single,” you tried lightening up the moods. 

“Yeah, definitely single,” he confirmed with a smirk.

“Well, maybe not for long,” you teased at the fact of becoming his girlfriend sooner or later, and his heart started to race. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Is that what you’re thinking?” 

“Yeah. Are you?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it, darling,” he responded honestly, glad to know you’re on the same page. 

He could possibly ask right now, knowing you feel the same way about him as he does you, but with not showing up for the date and practically throwing having a daughter at you, it wasn’t the right time. He wanted it to be special, not during a time when he was explaining why he screwed up. 

“Good. I’m happy we’re thinking the same thing.” 

“Me too.” 

There was a moment of quietness between you two, and the only thing that was heard was Bella’s game that she was playing on her iPad and the thumping of both of your hearts. Harry checked the time on his phone, realizing that he had to leave. 

“What are your plans for today?” He asked. 

“Just clean up around here, and perhaps go to the farmers market before they close.” 

“Sounds lovely. The weather’s nice after all that raining last night,” he said, and you agreed. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t here though.” 

“Harry, stop apologizing. Bella’s your priority and I totally understand.” He sighed deeply before nodding his head. 

“Say, how about this: bring me that lovely dish you cooked yesterday for lunch tomorrow because I would love to try it, and this time, you come over to my house on Saturday for our date? I’ll cook you dinner,” he suggested. 

The corners of your lips perked up as you nodded, “I’d like that.” 

“Great. But we’ve got to go to my sister’s house right now. Can I help you with the dishes really quick before we leave?” Your face softened even more, thinking of how kind and helpful he is. 

“No, I got it from here. Thank you, though.” 

You and Harry got up as he called out for Bella, telling her that it was time to leave. Harry helped put her coat on as he muttered something to her. Bella walked over to you, and you bent down as you smiled at her. 

“Thank you for letting us have breakfast with you and letting us into your home,” she opened her arms, and your heart fluttered as you opened your arms as well, taking each other in for a hug. 

“It’s so great to have you both. You’re welcomed here anytime,” you said against her ear, and Bella hugged you tighter and you rubbed her small back. 

After you two let go of each other, you walked them to the door, a bit sad that they had to leave, but you’re reminded that you’ll see Harry tomorrow and hopefully Bella around school. 

“I’ll see you two soon. Drive safe, yeah?” You told Harry, and he nodded. 

“Always do. I’ll text you?” You nodded, reaching up to give him a hug. 

It was a quick hug that only lasted about five seconds, which was way too quick for your liking, but when you two let go, Harry pressed his lips against your cheek, and that totally made up for it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled, and nothing came out of mouth, so you nodded instead and waved at the two. 

You watched them get into the car and drive off down the street, far enough where you couldn’t see them, so you watched back into your house and closed the door, placing your palm on your cheek as you felt the warmness of your skin heat up from the softness of his lips. And you hoped that you would get to feel his lips again.

Meanwhile as Harry was driving towards Gemma’s house, Fleetwood Mac was playing through the bluetooth of his phone until Bella spoke up, causing him to lower down the volume. 

“I really liked her,” she said. 

Harry smiled, agreeing with her, “Yeah, me too, bub.” 

“You’re right--she is pretty,” she confirmed, and Harry chuckled. 

“Very pretty.” 

“I hope I have her as my teacher when I get to the third grade.” Harry gasped, looking into the rear view mirror. 

“What?! You don’t want me to be your teacher?” Harry asked her, but knowing that his own daughter can’t be in his class, according to the rules and policy of the school. 

“I mean, maybe. But we might get annoyed with each other,” she stated, and Harry definitely agrees with her, but also loves how she’s not afraid of speaking her mind. “I hope I see her again soon,” Bella said, looking out the window as if she was in a dramatic movie. 

“You will, bub, you will.” 

And he meant what he said because Harry plans on keeping you around for a very long time. 

It was Friday after school when you heard someone say ‘knock knock’ from the entrance of your classroom. You looked up from your laptop to find Harry peeking his head out into the door frame. 

“Hi! Come in,” you said, standing up and taking your glasses off. Harry fully stands up straight, walking into your classroom. You walked towards him until a small figure that is Bella who is running straight towards you, excitedly. 

“Oh, hi sweet!” 

“Hi!” 

“We were just about to leave, but figured we could stop by and say hi--or goodbye since we’re leaving,” Harry chuckled. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you two. Well, I’m glad you two stopped by. I’m probably staying here for another hour or so,” you said, and you think that was probably the reason you also never knew Harry had a daughter because you two never leave at the same time. 

“I also wanted to give you these,” Bella chirped, grabbing the box of cookies from Harry’s hands before giving them to you. “We made you these last night!” 

“Wow, thank you so much. I’ll be sure to have some after I have dinner, but I just know they’re really good.” Bella nodded her head in joy. 

“I heard you’re coming over tomorrow. I’m sad I won’t be there because I’ll be with Aunt Gem,” she frowned slightly. 

“Yeah, I will be. But how about this: next weekend, with your dad’s permission and if you two aren’t busy that weekend, we can go to the park? Have a little picnic there and play some games?” You suggested that idea to her, and she immediately said yes. 

“I’m definitely up for that plan,” Harry said, smiling from ear to ear as Bella jumped eagerly. “But for now, we really do have to go.” 

You hugged Bella once more, telling her you couldn’t wait for your picnic together before hugging Harry as well. You became flustered as you remembered the time he kissed you on the cheek. And it happened again--every time you two had lunch together, he kissed your cheek hello and goodbye, and you blushed every time. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed. 

And you couldn’t wait for the evening.

As you knocked on Harry’s door, you were filled with nerves. 

The night was a bit cold out, so you wore a pair of black jeans, topped with a red leopard top, and some three inch black booties, and of course, a black coat for outside. In your hands, you held two bottles of Chardonnay--a wine that is paired well with seafood. And although you don’t know what he’s cooking up, you do know you two are pescatarians, so it saves you from roaming down the wine aisle. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he complimented once he opened the door as he looked up and down at you. Harry was wearing a light blue vertical pinstripe button down with cream colored pants. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was pinned back with a clip. “Oh, sorry,” he said once he felt his clip that was still in his hair. 

“No, don’t be sorry. You look really handsome,” you complimented back. 

“Thank you. Come in,” he moved to the side of the door, stepping out of the way so you could walk in. 

The Styles’ residence was a very cozy and welcoming home. You had already felt welcomed by the presence of Harry, but his home just made you feel even more welcomed and loving. It was the perfect size, not too big where it looks empty, but not too small so Bella can still run around. There were pictures hung up on the walls, a fireplace, and neutral colored furniture that complimented Prussian colored walls. 

He led you to the kitchen, and you thought the kitchen was lovely as well with white cabinets and potted plants along the backsplash of the kitchen, which you assumed they were fresh herbs. 

“So, I made some seasoned shrimp, and bought some ingredients that I’ve chopped up already for some shrimp tacos? We can do our own if you’d like,” he said proudly. 

“I’d love that. Do you need help with anything?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind?” You shook your head. “Do you mind grabbing the toppings in the fridge? They’re all in bowls.”

You made your way over to his silver refrigerator and took out all the bowls you saw, placing all of them on the counter in a line. Harry turned the stove off before grabbing two plates from the cabinet on the side of the stove, and handed one to you. 

“So, these are raw tortillas, which I’ve already cooked and placed on the pan, so it’s really good.” 

“Everything smells amazing. I can’t wait,” you smiled at him. 

Impulsively, Harry leaned forward and placed his lips on your forehead as a thank you. Not really knowing he did it until he pulled back, you beamed at him, thinking the gesture was sweet and made your heart pound. 

You and Harry assembled your shrimp tacos together, giggling when you both would reach for something at the same time, causing your hands to touch before one of you pulls back shyly. After, you followed Harry to the dining table, and it was a beautiful grey wood table with cream colored cushioned chairs. And you came to the conclusion that everything about Harry’s house was beautiful, including Harry and Bella. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said before taking a bite of his taco. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, and he gave you a sad look before you realized what he meant. “Harry, we’re passed that. It was one time, and you had to take care of your daughter. Yeah, I was angry when I was waiting for you, but only because I didn’t know what was going on. But I’m not mad anymore. Please, don’t beat yourself up with that.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I still feel bad about making you wait,” he frowned. 

“Don’t. I’d wait for you if I have to,” you said, your words coming out as a double meaning to it. 

As you and Harry ate, you complimented him again on the food as you both drank a glass of wine. 

“Tell me about your family?” Harry asked. 

“Hmm. Well, my parents are divorced. They have been since I was sixteen, but they still have a really great relationship with one another. They see each other occasionally, not often. But I have a younger brother; he’s two years younger than me and he works at a magazine company in the marketing department. My dad is in the construction business, and my mom is a pharmacist. Not really much to tell, we were--are a great family,” you told him, smiling to yourself as you remember how lucky you are to have the family that you have. 

“Do you see them often?” 

“Not as much as I should,” you replied honestly. Your family lives about ten hours away from you by car, which does not cooperate with the school schedule. But you do see them on holidays and whatnot. “Can I ask you a question now?” Harry nodded nervously. 

“What’s your relationship like with Bella’s mom?” 

“Uh, well…we were together for the last two years of uni. We moved in together during those two years, and everything was great until she got pregnant. She kept saying that her life was over, but I kept telling her that everything was going to be alright. It was pretty rocky from then. When she had Bella, I immediately fell in love with my baby. She was this precious little thing in my arms, and I was committed, y’know? But she didn’t feel the same way. She was having trouble bonding with her, and I told her that that sometimes happened and she shouldn’t give up, but one day, she told me that she was over everything. That she’s in the peak of her career and that she’d rather travel. Of course, that turned into an argument, but at the end of the day, that was her choice, so I didn’t bother anymore.” 

“Does she still see Bella?” You asked hesitantly, and Harry can sense it. 

“Maybe once a month? If not, then every other month. But they only see each other for about an hour, and that’s about it,” Harry said, and you nodded, not saying anything. “If you’re wondering, I don’t love her anymore, like, I’m completely over her. Just because she’s Bella’s biological mother, that doesn’t mean I love her,” he said, wanting to make sure you knew. 

You chuckled softly at his assertiveness, “I know you don’t love her. You’re a wonderful father to Bella.” 

“I try,” he said shyly. 

“And that’s all that matters. She completely loves you and she looks up to you,” you told him honestly from what you observed. Harry doesn’t say anything but take in your words, and his heart flutters from it because everyone needs a bit of encouragement; it helps them keep going and to not give up. 

There were no words that fell between either of your lips as there was no need for it; just the unspoken connection that you two shared as you stared at each other so intently, silently sharing a bond with one another that will mean something so deeply to you hearts. A blush settled on both of your cheeks, and it definitely wasn’t the wine because it was so much stronger; Harry had that kind of affect. 

Harry placed his arms on the table, slightly leaning in. You did the same, and your faces were inches away. His hand reached up to brush your hair behind your ear before placing his palm on your cheek, your skin immediately heating up. As he looked at you, his thumb brushed your cheek and it was the most soothing and innocent action anyone has ever done to you, and it made goosebumps on your skin rise. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked. 

“Anything,” you said softly. 

In a moment of weakness where you would let this man do anything to you, you felt strong and powerful. You felt confident and beautiful. And you think that is so important in seeking a partner because they should make you feel like that even with the simple act of staring. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Please do.” 

Harry smirked, glancing down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes--something he’s accustomed to doing to you, and you noticed every time. 

He placed his forehead against yours, nose touching as your lips were just a small movement apart. Harry’s hand moved closer to your mouth as he took his thumb and placed it on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. You were breathing deeply as you didn’t expect him to do that, but you were nonetheless turned on by it. 

And when he went to caress your cheek again, he finally leaned forward and kissed you. 

It was like everything you imagined. Through the years of tension that was building up, stealing each other’s belongings, the bickering, the days of daydreaming in class of how his lips would feel against yours, and all those nights imagining his lips against your skin—it all came down to something so explosive but marvelous at the same time. 

The taste of Chardonnay adding to his own was something so sweet as his tongue brushed against yours as you grabbed the back of his neck to bring him in closer. Your lips molded together as if it were one, and there was no hint of rushing it even further. It was sweet and slow, taking in one another’s feel as the spark between you two heightened and bursted. 

Once you two pulled back, and the appearance of swollen lips and being breathless, you two looked at each other and giggled, finally relieved that happened. 

“Not sure if this is too soon, considering this our first date, but will you be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, and your kissed lips turned up, smiling brightly at him. 

“So, when you meant soon, that meant the next week, huh?” You teased, not completely answering his questions straight away. 

“Precisely,” he chuckled, knee shaking under the table. 

“But I thought you’d never ask sooner, so yes. I will be your girlfriend.” Beaming, you held his hand as you said so, and Harry’s face dropped. 

“Really? You’re not messing with me, right?” He said shockingly. 

“Of course I will! How could I say no?” You placed your hands on the sides of his face and caressed your thumb, meeting your pointer finger as you pinched his cheek ever so gently in a comforting way, and not childish one. And Harry finds it sweet and it might be one of his favorite things if you keep doing it. 

Harry took your lips in with his again, knowing he won’t get used to the feeling of having your lips on his. It was a surreal feeling that he’s been wanting to happen for a very long time, and he’s talking about years, way before he even confessed his feelings. 

After a few minutes of kissing and getting used to each other’s soft lips, Harry suggested moving to the living area. So, you two cleaned up after much declining from Harry as he rejected your help, but you helped him anyway. 

Taking a seat on his couch as you waited for Harry to open the wine in the kitchen, you took a look around the living room. It was very warm and comforting; it made you feel safe. From the moment you stepped into his home, it had that sort of feel of security, like you were being wrapped up in a warm hug of love and safeness. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry finally joined you, taking a seat next to you as he poured more wine into both of your glasses—you two having the same amount. 

“What’s your family like?” You asked, only knowing the basics of them. 

“Well, as you know, I’ve got a sister; grew up with her and my mum. My parents got a divorce when I was seven, and it was a bit weird. I was young at the time, so I didn’t really know how to deal with it, but luckily mum always told me that it didn’t have to do with Gem or me,” Harry remembered that day so vividly as him and Gemma were sat on the couch of their childhood home as his mum and dad was in front of them. 

“Did you still see your dad?” You asked. 

“Yeah, we did all the time. I still do see him to this day. He was always an amazing father; never left us worrying. He’s an amazing granddad to Bella, and I really love their relationship.” 

“That’s amazing,” you smiled fondly at him, and Harry agreed. 

For the next hours, you cuddled up to Harry as you both talked about anything and everything as you two were a bit tipsy off your friend called Chardonnay, and off one another as the kisses hadn’t stopped. You hadn’t realized you were talking for so long that it was almost midnight, and you suggested you call it a night to get out of his hair. 

“Wait, how about you stay the night?” He suggested instead. 

“I shouldn’t,” you had sobered up during the last hours as you told him you’d pass on another glass of wine, to which he stopped drinking as well. 

“No, please. I insist. I know that you’re a bit sober, but I don’t want you driving like this anyways,” his hand met your forearm, rubbing it slightly as a way to convince you, and the mere touch is enough for you to say yes. 

“Okay,” you complied, nodded your head. Harry smiled, grabbing your hand as he led you to his room. 

Walking into his closet, he told you to pick anything you’d like to wear as he went to change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but hoping you’d be okay with him sleeping shirtless. 

You opted for one of his band tees and one of his a pair of shorts that were actually pretty short on you, so you were eager to see what it would look like on Harry. You met him in his restroom as he handed you a toothbrush and a makeup wipes, telling you that Bella liked to do makeup on him sometimes, so he bought wipes for it, and you told him that the next time she does it, to invite you over. 

Once you and Harry got ready for bed, you had felt like you were intruding, but he reminded you that you weren’t and that if you wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom that he would be okay with that. But you wanted to spend the night with him, so you climbed into bed with him, the worries about things being ‘too soon’ or ‘too quick’ flew out the window as you both were on your own timeline of your relationship. 

Harry pulled you into his bare tattoo chest, and luckily you were totally okay with him sleeping without a shirt on. You were amazed with his inked body, thinking how beautiful it is and wanting to look at every single detail of art that’s permanently on him. He kissed your forehead as you two made light conversation before your eyes dropped and slowly closed. 

You were in his arms, sharing a bed with him for the first time on the night of your first official date where he asked you to be his girlfriend and your first kiss with him. 

Everything had happened so fast, but with the warmth of his arms around you, feeling ultimate safety, it felt so right. 

The next morning arrived and Harry already knew that the night prior was the best sleep he’s ever had. 

He had been sleeping well, but he didn’t know what sleeping with you felt like until last night, and he loved every bit of it, even though he only had memory of the moment before falling asleep and waking up to you. 

The hold on his girlfriend’s arms became tighter as he woke up from the morning light that was peeking through the shutters. It was a quiet Sunday morning; no one in a rush to get anyone as it was everyone’s day to sleep in. 

The position you both were in as you cuddled was an interesting one. Harry had woken up to you both facing each other as Harry's arm was under your neck and your arm on his waist. But what was different was that his thigh was between your legs, squeezed together by them. 

He didn’t want to move because that’ll wake you up, he’s sure. So, he laid still, brushing off the hairs on your face as he watched you peacefully sleep. You were quite adorable as you slept, even though there was a bit of dried up drool on the corner of your mouth. But still adorable. 

After a few moments of laying there, his eyes were slowly starting to close as the silence took over, making him sleepy again. But after a minute of having his eyes closed, movement from you had startled him awake again. 

You were still sleeping, and your position hadn’t changed, only the movement of your hips slightly grinding down on his thigh in your sleep had left him wide awake. He thought it was a mere coincidence of you jolting, but as you continued to do it, he knew that you were having some sort of dream. And he hoped it was about him. 

Harry had been semi hard since waking up, but he felt himself start to grow harder in his pants as you let out quiet whimpers. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your lips before kissing around your entire face in order to wake you up, thinking he could get used to this. 

You stirred, but your hips didn’t stop, and Harry continued to kiss your face until you opened your eyes and yours locked with his as you started back a tad bit, looking at him. 

“Morning, darling,” he greeted, bringing you back into him. There was a bit of a smirk on his face, and your eyes widened, remembering the dream you just had before you woke up. The familiar heat between your legs that made its appearance every time you had a glass or two was being relieved by Harry’s thigh. 

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” you said, moving back to push his leg out from between yours, but he pulled you back in, placing his leg between yours again. 

“No, no. C’mere. Don’t be sorry. Were you dreamin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy from the slumber. And it only added to your arousal as you felt very wet inside of your panties. 

“Uh, yeah. I was,” you replied, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand as you stretched, hoping to hide away the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

“What about?” He consulted with a smirk on his face. You still had your eyes covered, but you know him all too well to know that he has a mischievous grin on his face, and you know yourself all too well to know that you’re red. Harry grabbed your wrists gently, pulling your arms. “C’mon, don’t hide from me please.” Once he held your arms down, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze once again. “Wanna tell me about your dream?” 

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered. 

“M’sure it’s not. I’ll tell you something ‘embarrassing’ if you tell me,” he emphasized ‘embarrassing’ as a sarcastic tone because he knows that it’s not really anything to be ashamed of. 

After a few moments of thinking, wondering if Harry would laugh at you, you huffed as you told him. “Every time I have a few drinks, I tend to have some sex dreams.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked. “What was your dream this time?” He asked curiously, but the look on his face tells you that he already knows and just wants you to say it. 

Figuring that you’ve already confessed that you had a wet dream, you told him honestly. “It was about you.”

Harry’s brows raised at that, shifting closer to you before he briefly kissed your cheek. He hadn’t said anything, and it’s driving you insane because here he was, telling you to tell him, and once you did, not a word out of his mouth. 

“Are you not going to say anything?” Your brows furrowed. 

“How about you tell me all about your dream?” He suggested, and the crease on your brow flattened. 

“W-What?” 

“Yeah. Then maybe after, we can make those dreams into a reality.” 

There was no stutter in his words. No lie in what he said. He had this raging hard on below him, and he knows that you’re probably wet already, so why not help each other out? After all, you two are together. 

“How does that sound?” He asked when you hadn’t said anything, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. “Do you want that? Because it’s okay if you don’t. Although, I’d still like to hear about your dream-”

“No, no! I want that. I want that so bad, please,” you pleaded, eyes looking into him so innocently when your dreams were about him railing you. 

“Do tell then, darling,” he gave you a kiss to your lips before, pulling back too quickly, so you pulled him by the neck, reconnecting your lips again. 

Unlike last night’s kisses, this one was eager and rushed, knowing it’ll lead to way more. Your tongues met, and Harry grabbed the back of your thigh, squeezing the flesh, making you hiss out. 

“So we were actually in the position,” you started your storytelling. “We kissed for a while,” Harry pecked your lips again, making you chuckle. “It felt nice, like I felt it through my dreams.” 

“Maybe that’s because I was actually kissing you,” he pitched in. 

“Maybe. And I really liked it.”

“Tell me more,” he hands roamed against your arm that was resting on his waist, and you could already feel the chills from his touch rise on your skin. 

“Your hand sneaked down to my panties, and you teased me a bit, not putting your hand inside of them right away.” 

“Like this?” As you said so, his hand trailed down your torso, slightly pulling your (his) shirt up to reveal a bit of your stomach as he raked his finger down your skin and to the hem of your shorts, dragging his nail along the hem. 

“Yeah, like that,” you confirmed as butterflies settled into your stomach. “Then you took my pants off, and you touched me very slowly.” 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, and you breathed out a ‘yes’ before he pushed the shorts down and you kicked them off your legs. You were wearing red lace panties, just like the top you were wearing, and he admired them for a quick second before taking them off. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked suddenly as you were half bare in front of him. 

“Is that part of your dream?” 

You shook your head, “no, but I really want to touch you, if you’d let me?” 

“Please do. I want you to touch me,” he gave you his consent, and you placed the palm of your hand on top of his clothed crotch, feeling him out as his hands roamed your thighs, Harry softly moaning from your touch. 

“Take this off, yeah?” You referred to his boxers, and he briskly took them off, kicking them on the floor. You looked down at him, impressed by his size, but did do well with your wet core as he still hadn’t touched you yet. “Next, you rubbed my clit for a while as you kissed me.” 

His fingers finally met your clit, and he rubbed as the wetness from your arousal had lubricated his fingers. He lifted your shirt up, and you slightly sat up for a moment to take off the material, finally fully bare for him, and the sight in front of him was to die for. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, fingers still rubbing you and his mouth immediately going on your breasts, kissing the skin and sucking on your nipples. You moaned out at both of the feelings of his hands and mouth on you. 

Suddenly you felt his finger dip into your wet hole, plunging them in and out of you as he curled his fingers up, hitting that soft spot of your upper walls. 

“Oh my, fuck,” you moaned out as Harry continued to kiss your tits. 

“You like that?” 

“Mhm. So good,” you felt as if you were about to come on his finger, but you held back, edging yourself and wanting the feeling to last longer. 

You looked down at his cock as it stood straight up and looked quite painful, but Harry didn’t show it; only focusing on your pleasure and getting you off. But you cared, so you licked your hand, and grabbed his cock, pumping it slowly. Harry hadn’t expected you to do that as he groaned, throwing his head back, exposing his neck, so you leaned forward, kissing and sucking on the skin of his collarbone; not wanting to go too high up because he does have a daughter.

“Like that, darling,” he moaned out while you were pumping your hand around the tip, learning that was probably his most sensitive spot. 

The thrusting of his fingers hadn’t stopped as well, alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit as you started to grind against his hand. 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” You asked straightforwardly, slowing down your movements as did he. “It was part of my dream,” you added. 

“Y’know, you can just ask me to fuck you. Don’t have to say it was in your dream,” he smirked. 

“True, but it really was in my dream. That’s why I was practically humping your leg,” you chuckled. “It’s okay if it’s too soon, I’m close anyways.” 

“Yeah? Let me fuck with you then. Been wanting to feel you,” he smiled before turning around to grab a condom. He turned back around at you, his smile no longer there. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to think if you had one in your purse. 

“I haven’t had sex in about two years, so I don’t have any.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I have one either.” Neither of you said anything, trying to see how to resolve this situation. Harry could possibly go to the store quickly and get one, but you had a better idea. “We can go without one? I mean I’m clean. I have an IUD. I haven’t had sex in about a year, and I recently got tested and I’m clean,” you stated, and Harry nodded. 

“Okay. I got tested about a month or two ago, and I’m clean as well,” he told you, not giving you a straight answer. 

“So, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

With that, he crashed his lips onto yours, gladly taking in the softness of them. You moaned against his lips as he grabbed your ass, pulling your body closer to his while squeezing. His hand made his way back to your clit, rubbing it relentlessly, causing you to whimper from the sensitivity, and you physically pulled his hand out from between your legs and looked him in the eye.

“Fuck me already,” you demanded. 

“Alright, alright. So bossy,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. 

Your chests were pressed together as there was no change in position, just the two of you on your sides, facing each other. Harry reached between you, grabbing a hold of his cock before running the tip up and down your slit, collecting your wetness to coat it. You slightly bucked your hips, urging him to put himself inside of you already, and he chuckled at your eagerness, but obliged as he slowly pushed into you. 

The position was definitely different than what you were used to, but he was so deep into you that you felt him everywhere. You both groaned out, sighing in relief that you two finally made it this far. Harry started to thrust into you, grabbing your leg, placing it high on his hip, practically on the side of his stomach as he fucked you. 

“Holy fuck, yes. That feels so good,” you screamed out as you placed your hand on the side of his face. 

“So fuckin’ tight for me, yeah? Love the way I’m fuckin’ you?” He asked before taking in your lips with his quickly, and pulling away so you could answer him. 

“Mhm. So big. Just like that,” you said, feeling him every time he hit that lovely spot inside of you, making you moan loudly. 

“M’not gonna last,” he said, chest heaving deeply as continued thrusting. There was so much foreplay that happened before the fucking that he could’ve came with your gentle touch of your hand wrapped around his cock, and also because he hasn’t gotten a single bit of action in two years. 

“Me neither,” you agreed, bouncing the way you can as you met his thrusts. Harry’s tongue met one of your nipples as you continued your movements, trying to get both of you on edge of an orgasm. 

“Tell me what you need. Let me get you there,” he said, wanting to help you out. 

“Play with my clit,” you breathed out, and his hand immediately went in between you to rub your sensitive button. Once you felt his fingers on you, it didn’t take you long to reach your peak. “Oh... shit, H,” you let out, voice shaky as your orgasm surged through you, whimpering his name out into the air, not ashamed with how loud you were being, 

Harry took place of you, pounding into you as you rode your high. “There you go. That’s it, darling. Look so pretty cummin’ for me.” With sloppy thrusts, his orgasm rushed through him, finally releasing inside of you as groans came out and he smashed his face on the pillow. Moans of your name was practically all he knew as they came out muffled from the pillow. 

You pulled him into your chest to calm down from his high, and the hot and deep breaths against your skin made you warm up as you scratch his curly hair lightly. 

After a moment of being in each other’s arms, you felt his lips press against your collarbones, sucking the skin lightly. His head moved up to your neck, only kissing it as he knows not to leave love bites there because of work. 

He pulled his head back, laying his head next to you against the pillow as he lazily smiled, looking so fucked out as do you. You moved to cuddle into his side as he gladly took you into his arms. 

“That was amazing,” you said. 

“Really, really good,” he agreed. “Did I do your dream justice?” 

You giggled, completely forgetting that you started out telling him about your dream.

“Way better actually.” 

“Can’t believe you’re my girlfriend now,” an overwhelming feeling hits him as his face is in disbelief. 

“I can’t either. Do you think Bella would be happy?” You worriedly asked, hoping the little six year old, that you’ve grown to adore, would love to have you around often. 

“Please. She would be ecstatic. She loves you so much already. But how about we don’t tell her yet? Just have you around, so she could get used to you, and then we’ll tell her?” He suggested. 

“That’s actually a really great idea. I wanna make sure she likes me fully enough to tell her,” you said, and Harry nods his head, chuckling as you’re still not convinced Bella loves you already. 

“Can you believe after five years, we’re in this position?” 

You smiled fondly at the fact; you really couldn’t believe it nor would have guessed you would end up like this with Harry. But you knew all this time that he was a genuine person, and if he truly hated you from the beginning he wouldn’t have talked to you at all throughout the years. 

“It’s crazy, but I’m so happy,” you smiled at him, eyes gleaming with happiness as you placed your hand on his stubbled cheek.

“Me too. Does that mean you’re gonna stop stealing my mail?” He joked, making you laugh loudly; the voice echoing the room. He smiled at you as he watched you laugh, realizing that might be his one favorite sounds right next to you moaning his name. 

“Nah, I’m still gonna take your mail. But think I stole something else.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Well, I did steal your heart, right?” Harry blushed, a crimson red settling on his cheeks, and you gently pinched his cheek as you did the night prior. And he was right, he loved when you did that. 

“Who knew you would be cheesy,” he teased, and you playfully slapped his chest. “But yeah, you completely stole my heart.” You smiled, cuddling more into his che

As you two laid on his bed in each other’s arms, there was a comfortable feeling that you two felt, knowing that this has possibly got to be the most safe you both have ever felt. 

And as your chests pounded in sync, you thought that he had stolen your heart too, and you wouldn’t mind if he kept it. 

hope you loved it as much as i loved writing it! 

LETS CHAT IN MY INBOX ABOUT THIS! i’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! <3

i will be accepting blurbs for them because i loved writing about them! so hit up my inbox on what you’d like to read :)

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

The Printers Smell Fear, You Know

Based on the prompt "I have to print my paper before class, you're trying to fix the printer jam while I freak out."

Or

You have thirteen minutes to print out a paper or you'll fail out of university. A mysterious, handsome brunette comes to save the day. And then he dips.

Read first chapter here

Read previous chapter here

Dating Eren meant that you had to be on his friends’ good side, which meant that you had to spend time with them. Friendship and loyalty were important to him, and he had been asking you to hang out with his friends outside of a party setting. You had happily agreed, especially since you had already clicked with many of them. Your solo lunches with Eren changed into group lunches including Hitch and Sasha and weekend outings at arcades and novelty shops.

However, the one person that you were weary of was Mikasa. You had introduced yourself to her with a wide smile, extending a friendly hand as you introduced yourself. Her dark eyes had flickered down to your hand, examining it like it was contagious before simply giving a slow nod and walking away.

Eren hadn’t been by your side, thankfully, because you knew you probably would have gone off on him for having such a rude friend. Instead, you had pretended that nothing had happened and had simply returned to his side.

The next night, Sasha had stopped by for a mani pedi movie night, bringing two bags of snacks that she threw onto your coffee table. She greeted you with a tight hug before collapsing onto your couch, throwing her head back against the cushions.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

You sat down next to her. Her face immediately shifted into one of concern and she sat up, reaching to grab your hands.

“Did Eren do something? Do I need to kick his ass?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Everything’s been amazing, actually.”

Frowning, you shifted your gaze towards the carpet below the couch.

“Actually, kind of? It’s not Eren per say, but . . .”

Sasha gestured for you to get to the point so you blurted it out.

“What’s up with Mikasa?”

It was her turn to frown. Sighing, she went back to leaning her head back on the couch, closing her eyes as she responded.

“Mikasa and Eren are stepsiblings. She is super protective of him. They’ve lived together since they were kids, so she feels a need to watch over him.”

The frown on her face softened, eyes still shut as she continued.

“Eren’s Mom died when he was eight. His Dad is a doctor, and Mikasa’s Mom was a patient of his.”

Sasha finally opened her eyes, brown eyes watching you carefully as she continued.

“It was definitely gossip in our town. He moved on rather quickly, and Mikasa’s Mom was ostracized for a bit. They were rather protective of each other but Mikasa always took it to another level.”

It made sense why she had been so quick to be dismissive of you. She probably was suspicious of Eren’s new girlfriend and was probably hoping that you didn’t break his heart.

“Oh, okay. Well I guess that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

Hitch walked in then, hair wet as she dangled a bag of nail polish off her arm. She squeezed in between the two of you, putting the bag down before turning her head to glance at both of you.

“Mikasa,” Sasha spoke first. “Apparently she was uber rude.”

“Not surprised,” Hitch rolled her eyes. “She’s always been obsessed with Eren.”

“Hitch,” Sasha hissed. “Don’t say that! They’re siblings.”

“Step siblings,” she corrected. “There’s a reason it’s a huge theme in porn.”

The thought had your stomach turning and you shook your head furiously to get the thought out.

“Look, I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Sasha assured you.

***

The conversation was still ringing in your head the following Wednesday. You were hanging out at Eren’s place with his friends while they played Mario Kart. Jean, Connie, Armin, and Eren were currently playing, yelling at each other as Connie was in the lead. You had played a few rounds but had left them in the dust, and you had taken a break so they would have a chance to win. Jean had laughed, cracking a grin at you as he pointed a finger at Eren.

“I like her! Keep your girlfriend around.”

The boys had just started their second lap when you heard the apartment door open, followed by a pair of footsteps. Before you could turn your head, you saw Mikasa emerge from the corner of your eye and she sat next to Eren. You were seated on one edge of the couch, with Eren in the middle and, now, Mikasa on the other edge.

You fought hard to keep a frown off your face as you pretended to be focused intently on the game. Mikasa leaned in towards Eren, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered something to him. He immediately frowned, muttering something. You could only decipher “leave me alone” as he continued on, trying to throw a green shell but missing.

“If any of you fuckers throw a blue shell at me, you are dead,” Connie warned.

“Whoops,” Armin deadpanned, pressing down to release said item.

“ARMIN! BRO!”

The living room erupted into a chorus of laughs and yells (mostly on Connie’s part) as he was dethroned and quickly passed by Jean. The remainder of the laps were neck and neck, with Armin managing to clinch first place. Connie threw his controller at him, pointing a finger while Jean laughed and Armin rolled his eyes.

Eren stood up, stretching his arms overhead before leaning down to tug you up.

“I’m gonna take a break,” he announced. “We’ll be back.”

“If you’re going to fuck, please keep it down,” Jean frowned.

Flushing, you tried to sputter out a rebuttal but Eren pulled you forward, replying with a simple “noted” and saluting them. Connie’s voice carried down the hallway, asking them to hurry and pick a cup before Eren closed the door. You glanced up at him, cocking your head to the side.

“Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Just wanted a moment alone with you.”

A part of you wondered if he was upset by whatever Mikasa had told him, but another part of you warned you that it was probably a touchy subject. You continued to watch him silently until he took a step towards you, a slow smirk growing on his lips.

“Keep your voice down, yeah?”

Confused, you opened your mouth to question him but he quickly scooped you up, walking to his bed before dropping you on it. Smiling, he leaned down until he was laying halfway on the bed, chest pressed against the foot of the bed while he knelt down. His hands reached up to begin unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the side. He did the same with your panties but tucked them into the pocket of his sweats.

“This is mine now, sweetheart.”

With that, he dove into you, hands settling on your hips. His tongue swirled around your clit before sliding down to push into you, a strange sensation of fullness flooding your senses. Biting your lip, your hands fumbled around, grasping onto his sheets tightly as you writhed beneath him. You snuck a glance towards him and let out a loud moan at the sight. His eyes were shut in concentration, mouth wrapped tight around your cunt as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

Upon hearing your loud moan, though, he stopped. His chin was glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, eyes narrowed in warning.

“What did I say about keeping your voice down, Princess?”

One of his hands let go of your hips to slap your clit, giving it a flick before settling back on your hips. You bit your lips again in an effort to keep quiet, trying to buck your hips instead but being held in place by Eren. He was so skilled with his mouth, his tongue moving smoothly all around your cunt and quickly bringing you to orgasm. You brought a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, quietly uttering his name as he brought you to a second one.

Your head was spinning as you came down, arm thrown over your eyes as you panted. The bed dipped for a moment as Eren stood up, glancing down at you with a proud smirk. You opened one eye to peer up at him, exhausted.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” you mumbled.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Princess. After we get dinner tonight, you can have me for dessert.”

He winked. “Let me go to the bathroom to grab something for you to clean up.”

You nodded, opening both eyes to watch him. Eren gave you one last longing look at your half-naked body before turning and opening the door. Suddenly, he froze in the doorway. Frowning, you pushed yourself up to your elbows to question him and froze too.

Mikasa was standing outside his door, face expressionless as she glanced at Eren before turning to look at you. Mortified, you scrambled to cover yourself up with his blankets, trying to find the appropriate words to say during this situation. Eren, however, was quick to speak first.

“Mikasa, what the fuck?”

She didn’t respond. Her dark eyes flickered back to you, a hardness in them before she turned and walked away. Eren stood frozen in the doorway for a moment before he turned to give you an apologetic look and rushing away.

“What the fuck?” you said out loud.

[kittycat-kisses]

My Treasure

Male naga x female reader:

You were walking down the street one gloomy rainy day after work. All day went rather poorly, so the weather really matched your mood. Your alarm either didn’t go off or you slept through it (you really don’t know which), and when you finally got to work you realized you had forgotten to grab any sort of caffeine, then when you got into the office you were called into your bosses office and was yelled at about jamming the printer last night when you weren’t even in the office yesterday. As well as when you finally got to your desk you find not only did someone pour coffee all over your desk and not bother to tell anyone, but the project papers that were supposed to have from your team were not even close to being done. So you were called into the bosses office again, and yelled at again for being incompetent.Then to top it all off, when you tried to start your car to finally go home, the damn thing won’t start. Grabbing your umbrella and trying to take deep calming breaths you start walking down the street towards home. With your head down you failed to see the car speeding directly towards the large puddle forming next to you. Ice cold water dumps on you yanking you directly out of your self pity party just to shove you right back into it when you start shivering. Sobbing at this point you keep walking. “Hey lady! Wait!” Came a voice behind you. Turning around you see a large naga slithering towards you. His bright green and yellowish scales standing out. He stops in front of you and rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Um I just saw what happened and um you c-can come in a-and warm up.” He says quietly and shyly. You hiccup trying to stop your sobs long enough to answer but soon realize that they don’t want to seem to stop so nod gratefully. He smiled shyly and leads you into a small library you hadn’t ever noticed. “I’ll be right back.” He says and slithers into the back room coming back a few minutes later with a towel, blanket, and what looks like a shirt and shorts, odd for a naga to have shorts, you think. He notices you stare at the shorts and his cheeks turn a bright yellow, something you found adorable. “I grabbed a pair of my roommates shorts and one of my t-shirts. I hope you don’t mind, I just figured you’d want to change.” He says awkwardly. You found it adorable. “Thank you so much…….” “Apophis, my name is Apophis. What is your name?” You tell him your name and he repeats it sweetly, like water on a hot day. “The bathroom is right over there by the way.” Pointing to the corner of the store. Getting changed you can’t help but be enchanted by the Beautiful green tree python (you know this because your a bit fascinated with snakes) that is named Apophis. That rainy horrible day turned into a sweeter in a few minutes. You spent the night talking to each other and getting to know the other while Apophis progressively got more bold until you were laughing at his story about the time he put a spider in his roommates bed and he saw it, and ran out of the house entirely naked leaving his date to fend for there self. You laughed so hard when he showed you the video you fell off your chair. You guys traded numbers and the rest was history. You both became the best of friends. Always doing mischievous things, and pulling pranks on the people around you. One day after 5 years of being the best of friends, 4 of which years you spent crushing heavily on him with, he came up to with a nervous face. “Hey Kit (which is your nickname from him) I want you to meet someone.” He stepped aside and there was a woman about the same age as you stand with him. “This is Ana. My girlfriend.” In the 5 years you both have been friends he nor you have dated anyone, both making the excuse that work was just to taxing to be able to have a healthy relationship, but in reality it was you only wanting to be with Apophis. So when he said girlfriend your heart plummeted, but you quickly wiped it from your face and stuck out your hand with the realest smile you could muster. All you could think was she was so much prettier then you.

After that encounter 2 weeks later of constant date nights and hugs (between the two of them), not to mention the peck on the lips, you learned how to fake your smile to perfection and nobody could tell the difference. At least that’s what you thought, until one day planting in the garden with Apophis he turned to you suddenly. “What’s wrong?” Startled out of your thoughts on wether to put carrots or celery here you looked up confused. “Huh?” Tilting your head in confusion. “Why are you always so sad when I bring Ana around? I thought you would be happy for me.” Realization washed over you and a flinch at the name of the person who got the one you wanted before you could work up the courage. Covering up the flinch with picking up the seeds for the celery you sigh. “I am happy I swear.” You start. “Why do I feel like a but is coming?” He said after you paused. Taking a deep breath you gathered up all your courage. “But I’m upset because she gets to have the one thing I’ve wanted for years……..you.” Then you got up and ran into your house and locked the door not having the courage to open it up after he slithered after you. You started to ignore him and trying to stay out of his way of happiness because you were convinced there is no way he likes me back. After 2 months of being ignored he had had enough, he came to your work right when you were leaving wrapped you up in some of his long coils and slithered off to his house completely ignoring you. When he unlocked the door and went in he put you down on the couch. You try to get up to storm out of the house to make a point but he grabbed a blanket and wrapped you up into a burrito. “Finally! For fucks sake kit will you finally listen to me!” Having never heard him curse you immediately stop struggling to shocked. “Now let me get you up to speed about that day. When you said she had the thing I want the most me, we’re you 100% being honest?” He said giving you a glare when all you do is nod. “Words sweetheart I need words.” He said with amusement with a hint of frustration. “Yes I was honest.” “Good because this next part is going to make you feel a whole lot better. Ana was never actually my girlfriend. She was an old college buddy that got sick of me talking about the beautiful girl that is my best friend. So she came up with a plan to make you jealous enough to admit it because I was to scared to say anything.” Looking shocked as can be realization washed over you with two new discoveries, the naga you have been crushing on for the better part of 4 years likes you back, also the girlfriend was fake. “To which I’ve been trying to tell you for the better part of two damn months trying to get you to just stop for a second and let me finish.” Feeling more then a little dumb you asked him to let you out of the blanket and you spent the night talking about how dumb you both felt about not seeing it way before. The next day you went on your first date, and the romance blossomed from there.

Thank you guys for reading this far! This has to be my longest post yet and I’m immensely proud lol. Anyway I will see y’all later byes!

[thewatermelloncat]

*please* continue the "why are you being nice to me?" rosenali prompt

Next addition as requested. Not much happens in this but it does set up for the next bit. So, hopefully that will be more exciting.

I’ve decided to continue this on as long as people are receptive to it and I can find ideas, under what I’m calling Tech AU because to quote Rosé in the Rusical: I’m a freakin’ tech genius.

I want to make this interactive so if you have any prompts or scenarios for what you want to see with this, please send them through. I’m hoping this will be a fun thing for us to do together ❤

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“Do you want to do a test print?” Rosé asks, standing back behind her chair again. Having left Denali a couple of minutes ago to print off her own publication which she had just handed in.

“No, I just want to get it in” Denali says. There is still about ten minutes left and she probably has time for one but she just can’t be bothered.

“Fair enough” Rosé considers. “You think it’s ready?”

Denali hums as she moves the mouse over to the file tab. Then she stops, realising that she has no idea what she’s doing. “How do I do it? I wrote notes on it but I don’t have them out” she asks while already reaching for her bag at her feet.

“That doesn’t matter. I know what to do” Rosé stops her and she sits back up in her chair again.

“Well, I know to go into File and then go to Export” she begins as she moves the mouse along the screen again. “But I don’t know what to do after that.”

Rosé nods and lets Denali click the commands that she knows about.

“Then we save as a PDF Print, right?” Denali checks, looking back up at Rosé.

She hums with another nod of her head. “See, you do know what you’re doing.”

Denali laughs at the thought. “Well, maybe I knew a bit more than I thought but I promise you, now this is where my knowledge stops.”

Rosé smirks a laugh as well. “Clicking save next might help.”

Denali does and then she waits for Rosé’s next instruction.

“Okay good, preset is high quality” Rosé says lowly to herself, her eyes scanning over the screen. “Go into marks and bleeds” her voice is clearer as she goes back to talking to Denali.

Denali nods and clicks the title on the side panel, a new pop-up box appearing.

“And then just click this box here” Rosé reaches over her to point next to a box on screen and Denali selects it. “Now hit export.”

The tab closes after she does and Denali relaxes a little.

“Then you can just print as normal” Rosé steps back from behind her, sitting in a chair of her own.

“Okay thanks” Denali says as she sets about doing that.

After checking a few settings and selecting a couple of boxes, Denali hits print and gets up from her chair at the sound of the printer churning. “I swear if this thing jams…” Denali calls back to Rosé with her hands on her hips as she waits to see the paper printing out.

“What word are you going to say?” Rosé spins her chair around to face her.

For a second Denali stops short, about to explain that it wasn’t meant to be taken literally.

Though Rosé seems to know that even as she continues, “I’ve found that a well enunciated fuck works in most situations.”

Denali flinches at the curse, shrinking in on herself slightly as her eyes quickly scan the room for teachers, but her and Rosé are the only ones there. She doubts Rosé would care if she got caught either.

Though it isn’t a thought that she dwells on for long as the printer finishes its job and she grabs her printing.

“How does it look?” Rosé asks getting out of her chair and making her way over.

“It looks great” Denali breathes out a sigh of relief, pushing it closer to Rosé.

“It does” Rosé agrees before she steps back from it, letting Denali know she is done looking.

Then Denali moves off to go hand it into the submission box, unable to keep a smile from her face at her nightmare finally being over.

Feeling lighter than air she pretty much skips back to her computer and spins around in her chair before leaning back into it. “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“I told you, you could do it” Rosé says as she puts her things back in her bag and zips it up.

“Hey, uh, thanks for helping me” Denali speaks quickly, seeing Rosé about to leave as she slings her bag on her shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Rosé hums with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s no problem. You’d already done all the work, we just needed to put it back together.”

“No, I really couldn’t have done that without you” Denali affirms and a small smile spreads on Rosé’s lips. Then Denali decides to ask something stupid. “Are you doing anything after this… like now?”

Rosé shakes her head before she can think further about what Denali might ask her.

“Do you want to go somewhere with me? I feel like I owe you a coffee or something.”

“Coffee sounds great actually” Rosé accepts easily.

“Okay, cool” Denali says brightly before her confidence fades. “I, uh, actually live on the other side of town so I don’t really know any good places around here.”

“That’s no big deal” Rosé dismisses. “I know a place but whether it’s good or not really depends on the day.”

“Well, should we go figure out if today is when it decides to be good or not?”

[stllmnstr]

sure thing [PREVIEW]

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

word count: TBD but likely around 20~25k

release date: nothing official but likely within the next couple of days!

note: tfw you watch the no doubt music video and then write 18k words in the span of 24 hours about office coworker jungwon that is also secretly an underground boxer hahaha relatable, right? anyway expect this soooooon

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[...]

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.” 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers. 

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere. 

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it. 

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for. 

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side. 

“What happened?” You breathe. 

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features. 

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best. 

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury. 

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away. 

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you. 

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it. 

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path. 

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance. 

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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note: office workers AND boxers enha in one music video was crazy work so now I am forcing you all to suffer with me. I have a couple of scenes to finish off, and this piece needs a solid round of editing, but I expect to be done within the next couple of days and then she's allllll yours. if you're excited, let me know!

all the best ♡

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 17

“Peter, Jamison wants you in his office.”

Peter winced and clutched the handle of his bag defensively. “I’m not late!” he said desperately.

Beth rolled her eyes at him, purple eye shadow glinting in the office lights. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “He wants you in his office now.”

Peter knew better than to argue. The whole staff of the Daily Bugle knew better than to argue. He quickly made his way through the crowded halls of the Bugle to Jamison’s office and timidly knocked to introduce himself before going in. Standing at Jamison’s desk was another man, a guy with short, pitch black hair, who looked about as happy as Jamison—i.e. not at all. “I’m here, Mr. Jamison,” said Peter nervously.

“Peter, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is Peter. What have you got for me today, Peter?” demanded Jamison’s harshly. Peter could hear the crunching noise as he savagely chewed through the candy he’d taken to eating when he’d stopped smoking.

Peter quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the pictures he’d taken before handing them to his boss. “He—hello,” he stammered towards Eddie. The man just glared at him and Peter tried to retreat further into himself.

He found himself wishing, as Jamison went through the photos, that Wade was with him. He had no doubt that Wade’s presence might just antagonize his coworkers at the Bugle more—but Peter found his presence reassuring. He felt warm and safe with Wade and none of that had anything to do with how Wade was determined to not only respect Spiderman’s identity, but defend him against what anyone else had to say about the subject. Nope. Not at all.

Jamison slammed one of the photos onto the desk and Peter jumped—and then stared, confused. It wasn’t one of his best works; the lines were blurred and it was difficult to see what was going on. Why would Jamison draw attention to t his one?

“See that, Eddie?” growled Jamison. “This is the worst of Parker’s photos. And this,” he added as he slammed down another one—showing Iron Man and Black Widow in battle with a faceless (literally) man, “This is the quality he usually brings me. You want his job? Do it better.”

Peter first glowed at the rare (exceptionally rare) praise until he realized the other man wanted his job. Why? The Bugle didn’t even pay that much, and Peter knew for a fact that they negotiated to sell the photos to other newspapers and sites. He cringed away from the sudden death glare he was getting from the other man.

“Parker, the printer’s acting up again,” growled Jamison.

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes, Sir,” he said quickly retreating from the office. Beth looked up and smirked at him. “You knew,” he whispered, feeling betrayed.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew. Just as I know that he’ll be hired anyway, because Jamison loves his turn of invective phrase. And when you’re done with the printer I need help with the website.”

Peter nodded jerkily and went to get a set of the company over-alls that they used for the printing press in the basement. The thing was old, and was always jamming. It was easy enough to fix—and messy enough that only people at the bottom of the hierarchy (Peter) were sent to do it. He cleared the old blockage and closed the lid before jumping back at the sight of Eddie staring at him.

Eddie regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do you do it?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I—uh, I take out the old paper to clear the blockage before refilling with new paper,” said Peter warily as he moved, cautiously, towards the door. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly sharing a room with Eddie—the man looked at him like he was scum and his senses were giving a low-level, irritating buzz.

“Not that,” said Eddie. His tone was casual. His body language was anything but. “I mean the pictures.”

Peter was even more confused. “The pictures? Well, the programming does most of the work—”

“The pictures you take,” growled Eddie through clenched teeth. “How do you know the best places to be?”

Oh. Oh. Peter nervously fidgeted with the safety goggles he was wearing. “I work at Stark Industries,” he said, “and they’re pretty good about assistants taking odd breaks as long as all the work gets done.”

“What does that—oh.” Eddie regarded Peter with a little bit more respect. “So you use the information you get at work to know when and where to go.”

“It’s not secret information,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was stealing secrets from Mr. Stark. “They announce it over the intercom. The only times I can’t go is when they’re expecting something to attack the Tower and lock it down with everyone inside.” The buzz wasn’t diminishing, and Peter swallowed. “I’ve got to—I’ve got to go,” he said quickly before fleeing.

He carefully hung the ink stained over-alls back up, grabbed his bag, and clocked out before leaving. He fled the building and then sighed as he trudged back home. He had some money from Jamison—but he was going to have to use it for the rest of his rent, some food, and some more medical supplies. His first aid kit was dangerously low, and he didn’t have anything to eat at home. The food he’d gotten at Oscorp was already wearing thin. Not for the first time, he cursed his quick metabolism.

“Petey-Pie!” called a familiar voice.

Peter whirled to see the familiar red and black figure coming towards him. “Wade!” he said happily right before he was squeezed in a hug.

“Oh, Petey-Pie! It’s been forever since I hugged you!”

Peter reached around the mercenary to hug him back and felt tense muscles relaxing. “You liar,” he said fondly. “It was just four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Do you know how many chapters that was Petey?” whined Wade. “I need my Peter fix!” He rubbed his masked cheek against Peter’s bare one and the stitches rasped against his face.

“Chapters?” he asked in confusion. “Are you reading a book?”

“I’d tell ya, Pete,” said Wade as he held the smaller man, “but you’d think I was crazy.”

Peter chuckled and gently squeezed in a return hug. “You are crazy,” he said fondly.

Crazy enough to believe he could change.

Crazy enough to believe Spiderman had a good reason for keeping his identity secret.

Crazy enough to get close to Peter Parker.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wade said.

Peter leaned back enough to where he could look into the whites of Wade’s mask. “Who says it’s a bad thing?” he challenged. “I—”

“So this is how you get your information,” said voice, dripping with disgust. Peter broke way enough to see Eddie behind them. The raw disgust on his face was enough to make him take a step back, and the mere sight brought back that low-level warning buzz. “Fucking the freaks.”

“Hmm. Peter, who is this?” asked Deadpool as he tucked himself around Peter again.

“This is Eddie. I think he’s my coworker?” Jamison had mentioned something about Eddie wanting his job—but why? It just didn’t pay that much, and no one like to wrangle the printer.

“Oh? Hello Eddie. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m hugging my baby boy right now.” The arm around Peter’s waist tightened slightly, and the other crossed Peter’s torso. Peter would have relaxed into the embrace—if he hadn’t been all too aware of the fact that Deadpool had just moved his hand closer to his sword.

Eddie put both his hands in his pockets—and Peter winced. Deadpool had once sliced the arms off of a crook who did that (I swear he was reaching for a gun, and you’re not bullet-proof Spidey!) and Peter waited anxiously to see what would happen. Eddie simply left his hands there, and chuckled.

The sound was disturbingly similar to what Norman had uttered as Harry was recovering from nearly dying in the office.

“I just want to get an edge, that’s all,” Eddie said with a sly grin. Without looking at Peter he asked, “Peter, do you believe in the concept of fair play?”

“Um—yes?”

“Do you believe that in a competition to see who is truly the best, both people should be on equal footing?

“…yes?”

The grin widened. “Excellent. Hey, Deadpool. How about you give me a heads up, next time shit’s going down?”

Deadpool tucked his chin into the crook of Peter’s neck and there was a slight change—an almost relaxation that left him somewhere between Deadpool and Wade. “Hmm. That does sound fair.” Eddie smirked. “But, I won’t do it. You upset my little Petey-Pie, and the only reason you’re still breathing is because Spidey Senpai would be mad at me.” He rubbed his cheek against Peter’s again. “And just as Baby Boy believes in fair play, he also believes in honesty. Don’t you Baby Boy?”

“We—well, it’s always important to try to be truthful,” Peter said. He couldn't tell anyone he was Spiderman—but he didn’t deny it either. Actually, he was more careful that it didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if that counted as lying or not.

Deadpool heaved an exaggerated sigh. “There you go. If Spidey asked Petey-Pie if I killed someone, Petey would tell the truth. So you live. Now live somewhere I’m not tempted.” He took his gloved hand away from Peter’s shoulder and made shooing motion with it. Eddie growled—but left. Peter let out a low, slow breath and relaxed as Wade cuddled him close again. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need a bodyguard.”

Peter really wouldn't put it past Eddie to ambush him in an alley on the way home. While he could fight off the other reporter—he couldn't do it without telling people he was Spiderman. “True,” he said. He looked up at Wade’s chin. “Want to come shopping with me? I got paid today.”

[peachiikawa]

Fly | Route Selected: S. Daichi

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. finally, here is the long awaited daichi route. hope you all enjoy!

genre: mafia au

warnings: blood, reader getting hurt, guns, violence

word count: 2.3k

Fly Masterlist

“I choose you”

Your eyes locked with daichi

And daichi stared into yours trying to figure you out

“Are you sure?”

You nodded your head and held your ground

“Im sure”

He felt his eyes soften for a moment at the determination in your eyes before hardening again

“Fine. Everyone else, go home. Youre with me then. Lets go”

Daichi called for a car and drove you home

The silence between the two of you was only filled with the soft sound of a piano playing on the radio

The ride was finally over after about twenty minutes

“I’ll come get you tomorrow morning. Youll be working as an intern now so dress accordingly”

With that he left and you felt like you could breathe again

Just what had you gotten yourself into?

As he said he was at your house in the morning in a car that looked just a tad too expensive

You gulped before taking your first step towards him

“Good morning, Daichi”

He just nodded at you as you got into the car

The drive was once again silent

You looked over at the man behind the wheel and noticed how...formal he looked

Suit, straight back, both hands on the wheel

You felt yourself naturally adjusting yourself to mirror his mannerisms

He stole some glances at you without you noticing and felt his eyes soften upon seeing how nervous you looked

As soon as you stepped into the building you could feel the professional atmosphere

The endless windows and white walls gave off a chilling feeling

You only came back to reality when Daichi gently nudged your back

“I dont have all day. Hurry up and move”

The harshness of his words were the opposite of his touch but they still hurt nonetheless

You nodded your head and kept walking, trying to keep up with his quick stride

You followed him into an office as he took a seat behind the wooden desk

“This will be brief so don’t feel the need to sit”

Your eyes followed his every move as he organized his desk that was already pretty organized with stacks of papers

Daichi went on about your duties here but you honestly werent listening

You were a bit overwhelmed from the unfamiliar building you were in that you forgot about the man in front of you

Up until your eyes landed on the nameplate that sat on his desk

Sawamura Daichi, CEO

Without even knowing it, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion

Just who did you get yourself involved with?

Daichi finally noticed that his conversation with you wasnt going anywhere

“Hey. Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and shook your head

“Im listening!”

He just sighed and repeated everything he just said again

“Whatever. Just listen because this will be the last time i say this. Youll be working here at Sawamura Inc from now on as an intern. Your fellow interns are Hinata and Kageyama so feel free to ask them questions if you have any. You can leave now. I’ll come get you at the end of the day”

You nodded your head and started your day

Kageyama helped you the most in learning the ropes, you didnt see much of hinata. it was almost as if he was avoiding you

“Ok...so these files go here?”

He nodded his head

“Yeah i think you got it down now. If you need me ill be organizing some things for suga”

The rest of the day went on slowly until finally seven oclock hit

You could hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching you

“Lets go”

Daichi wasted no time in leaving

You quickly put down the rest of the papers you needed to organize and followed him out

The next couple weeks were like clockwork

Almost exactly the same as the day before

And no matter how hard you tried to get to know the man who took you to and from work he wouldnt budge

The only thing you ever got out of him were short replies and head nods

Did he really not like you that much?

But something you noticed every morning and every evening was the light sound of a piano playing from the radio

“Do you like the piano daichi?”

You werent even sure youd get an answer out of him

But he must if he listened to it everyday

You saw his hands lightly grip the steering wheel tighter before loosening, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips

Your eyes widened when you saw it

In your two weeks together...youd never seen him give a look like this

Like he...enjoyed life

Like he was happy

“Yeah...its okay”

But just as fast as it appeared on his face, it quickly disappeared

Who knew that the stoic man next to you could make expressions like that

Almost made your heart race

“Do you play?”

Silence fell upon the both of you before you heard him let out a sigh

“No”

And now we’re back to stage one when you finally though you were getting more than one word answers

What could you do to make him see you?

This question played in your head as you filed away some papers for Asahi with Hinata

It was the first time youd done something with him but from what youve seen kageyama just calls him an idiot all the time and hits him

Also from what youve heard hinatas been with the sawamuras for a while so maybe he has some insight

“Hey hinata, can i ask you a question?”

He kept quiet so you took that as permission

“Do you know why daichi likes listening to the piano so much?”

That caused him to stop

“If he hasnt told you then dont ask me”

Youd be lying if you said that didnt make you more intrigued so naturally you did some digging

And eventually you stumbled upon an article from no more than five years ago

It told the tale of a young piano prodigy that had chosen to study music at the university of music and performing arts in vienna

And that piano prodigy was the now the distant leader of the Karasuno Mafia

You wonder what happened to him, what the story was behind his change in career path

The next day you decided that if you wanted to learn more about him then asking the questions would help

“Good afternoon daichi!”

You smiled at him as you delivered some paperwork to him

“Morning…”

You set the small stack down on his desk in front of him

“These are the papers for the closing on the Inarizaki deal”

He picked them up and quickly skimmed it

“Okay, thank you. You may go now”

When you didnt move he looked back up

“Do you have something else for me?”

He saw the way you fidgeted with the tips of your fingers and his eyes softened for just a moment

“Would you like to have lunch with me?”

He knew that he should say no

That he shouldnt let you in

“Sure”

How harmful could one lunch possibly be

Little did daichi know he was about to be interrogated

“--no i dont know who my favorite superhero is”

This was probably the tenth question youve asked and he wished you would stop

But he didnt know how to tell you no

Not when you were asking genuine questions

He thought it was kind of nice to be talking to someone normal again

Not someone who was involved with the mafia

But someone who was just...ordinary

“Ok ok..one last question”

He smiled softly

You felt your breath hitch after him showing you that gentle smile

“Go ahead”

The way you talked to him with no filter was refreshing

So he wasnt expecting the next question really at all

“I came across an article the other day about this boy who loved playing the piano,”

Daichis heart almost stopped

“Why did you stop playing daichi?”

‘Because my father made me’

He clenched his fist, crumpling the napkin inside of it

“I just got bored of it”

His reply came out through gritted teeth and you knew he was lying

You gently laid your hand on top of his until you felt it relaxing under you

“Well, no matter the reason, I hope that someday ill be lucky enough to hear you play”

His heart melted

The thought of playing again is something hes always wanted

But his father wouldnt let him

And left a permanent reminder on him about it

“That probably wont ever happen so dont get your hopes up. Let’s get back to the office, lunch is over”

And just like that he was back to being cold towards you just when you thought you were making progress

A couple weeks go by and it seems like daichis pushed you out of his life all over again

So much so that suga was the one giving you assignments from daichi where daichi used to just tell you himself

“Hey, hinata, kageyama and y/n! Daichi wants you guys to go make some copies from the store around the corner. Printer is jammed here and we need to get those documents ASAP”

You all nodded your heads and headed out

You were really too caught up in your own thoughts to be thinking about your surroundings

Had you really crossed a line that day?

You just wanted to figure out the real daichi

Because to you, the real daichi had his walls up 24/7 but behind those walls was a gentle smile and just a guy who wanted nothing more than to just live a normal life

So you didnt notice when hinata and kageyama stopped causing you to run into their backs

“Why did you guys-”

Hinata held a protective arm out in front of you

“What are you doing here, mad dog?”

The boy you assumed was ‘mad dog’ pushed himself off of wall he was leaning against

“Boss wanted me to fetch something”

His eyes locked onto your form

“And im here to collect”

This sent chills down your back

What was he going to do for you?

Who was his boss?

Your mind was running a mile a minute

“y/n you need to run”

Hinata’s voice brought you back to reality

“What?”

Hinata’s eyes never left the man in front of him

“Kageyama and i will take care of him. You need to get back to the office. Now!”

You sprinted as soon as hinata yelled for you to leave

‘Theyll be alright, right? They handle stuff like this all the time’

But you came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a gun going off

‘Fuck my life’

You turned back around help in any way you could

Only to come upon an unconscious kageyama and bleeding hinata

“You fucking idiot! Whyd you come back?!”

Meanwhile mad dog approached you and placed his hand under your chin

“You just made my job a whole lot easier”

Before you could even scream a piece of cloth was placed over your mouth and your vision went black

“Give your boss a message for me, carrot top. Tell him that if he wants his intern back he has to come get them himself”

Hinata gritted his teeth before passing out himself

Suga found them not too long after that

And after hinata told daichi what had happened...he was livid

He was supposed to protect you

To make sure that you stayed safe

And he was too weak to do it

Too afraid of what his father would have done if he found out that he was fond of a random person they picked up from the streets that had no ties to them

Afraid of what his father would have done to you

He clenched his jaw and let out a grunt as he punched the wall next to him

But fuck that

He knew that in this moment he needed to get you back right now

The thought of you being injured due to his own incompetence scared him more than what his father might ever do to him

So he was off

“When will they wake up?”

“Theyve been out forever”

“Dude its only been like three hours of course theyre still out”

The voices around you became clear as you regained consciousness

“Oh~ looks like theyre finally awake”

“Yeah probably because you wouldnt shut up”

Standing in front of you was a group of men you had only seen in brief pictures from the reports you made for daichi

‘Seijoh’

From what you remember their boss is a major flirt and his right hand man keeps him humble

Mad dog was sitting off in the corner next to a brown haired man who just kept staring at you…’creepy’

You flinched as the one you recognized as their boss reached a hand out towards you

“Aww dont be scared! I promise i wont hurt you”

He bent down to your level with a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to the point that his breath tickled your ear

“Though im not too sure that some of the others here wont. So be good for me, okay y/n?”

You were scared out of your mind

But you were not going to let this guy get into your head

So you did what any reasonable person would do

You pulled your head back and headbutted him in the forehead

He stumbled back a bit

“Stay the fuck away from me”

Oikawa held his head and gave you a nasty glare

“Iwa take care of them”

Everyone filed out till it was just you and the spiky hair man in front of you

“Nothing against you, just doing what the boss said. Plus you could have just laid low but you had to provoke him”

Daichi wasted no time in getting to seijohs building

And as soon as oikawa heard he was in the building he sent for him

“Welcome daichi! What an unexpected surprise!”

Daichi always hated the sound of oikawas jovial voice

How fake it sounded

“Just give me y/n back”

Oikawa just shook his head 

“Never were a fan of small talk were you daichi? Okay, since youre just dying to see them ill bring them in now”

Daichi turned around and reeled at what he saw

Bruised and battered as you were set down onto the ground

“You fucking bastard”

Daichi clenched his jaw

He was at a loss of words for the sight in front of him

But he knew he had to get you out of here

So he scooped you up into his arms and headed for the door

But before leaving he stopped and spoke into his earpiece

“Get them”

And with that he left as a war ensued between the two gangs

Beep beep

The sound of your heart monitor brought you back to the land of the living

And next to you was a passed out daichi

You slowly felt around your bed before hitting the call button for your nurse

And as soon as you did daichi jumped up from his seat at the sound of footsteps approaching

You reached out and put your hand on his to get his attention and smiled at him

He sat back down and let the nurses tend to you, his gaze never leaving your body

“You should be able to leave within the next day or two. Rest up mx. l/n”

The nurse then left your room and left the two of you alone

You locked eyes with him before looking down at his hand and seeing how discolored it was

He noticed your eyes widen and tried to hide his hand once he realized what you were looking at

“Daichi! You need to take better care of yourself!”

You sat up from your bed and called a nurse to get a basic first aid kit

“Im fine y/n. You need to rest”

“Like hell youre fine! Daichi your hand is hurt. Please just let me fix it for you”

But before you could apply the bandages you hand your hand in his

“It cant be fixed y/n. This hand doesnt feel anything”

You looked up at him with confused eyes

“Its the reason i dont play anymore. My father crushed it a few years back so i wouldnt even think about playing. Said it was time i stopped playing with useless things”

The grip on your hand tightened a bit before slowly loosening

But you just gently squeezed it

“Well, even if your hand is ‘useless’ id still feel better if youd let me wrap it. Your hand is still a part of you and it can still bring so much joy into your life as well as those around you. You just have to have the courage to seize what you want.”

‘The courage to seize what I want’

Your words played out in his head over and over again

He made a promise to himself that day

That one day, you two would be happily together

No matter how hard this path may be

He was going to seize his happiness

Tag List:

@the-ironic-me​ @multisun​ @my-mass-hysteria​ @sugawsites @youbloodylegendyoudidit @sinthxy​ @celamoon​ @tinymouth @fait-de-fleurs​ @tsukifanbase​ @69owo​ @laglyssage​ @hearteyeskags​ @ntngann​ @shnnn​ @fukuro-dani-ace​

[iliketowrite1996]

Lunch Buddies

Part 1:https://iliketowrite1996.tumblr.com/post/614617294578089984/his-best-girl

Part 2: https://iliketowrite1996.tumblr.com/post/614969499334197248/meet-the-music-teacher

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- abandoning child, mentioned of dead spouse, moving and starting over, single parenthood

‘’Jasmine. What on earth are you doing?’’

   The ten year old freezes in her spot at the sound of Steve’s voice, before looking up at her dad with wide, brown eyes.

   ‘’Um… I am making you lunch,’’ she responds, slapping yet another slice of bread on top of the sandwich that she is constructing.    

   ‘’Alright, Jasmine. What did you do?’’

   ‘’I did nothing!,’’ she insists, stepping over to the cabinet and getting out some tupperware and a top.

   ‘’I guess this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you got your math test back yesterday, hm?’’

   Jasmine looks at Steve with wide eyes before sighing, looking to the floor, and trudging over to her book bag. She returns with her math paper… a giant red ‘’F’’ in the top, right by her name.

   ‘’Jasmine, come on now,’’ Steve sighs, shaking his head slightly as Jasmine constitutes stare at the floor, ‘’What happened?’’

   ‘’I studied, daddy,’’ she looks up at Steve, big, brown eyes filling with tears, ‘’Honest, I did! But when it was time for the test, I got so confused.’’

   ‘’Have you asked Mr. Isaac to help you?’’

   ‘’Yes,’’ she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, ‘’But I don’t get it the way that he explains it, either. Deshaw tried to help me and Alexandria tried to help me, but it’s still so confusing.’’

   ‘’Okay, don’t cry, come here,’’ Steve says, allowing Jasmine to lay her head on his shoulder like she used to do when she was little, ‘’Don’t cry. Everyone makes mistakes.’’

   ‘’But I KEEP failing!,’’ she eventually wails, and Steve pulls her in for a hug, smoothing her curls down as he does so.

   ‘’Shh. Sweetheart, calm down. WhenI was your age, I didn’t understand science, and I had trouble with social studies. Your grandma had to get me a tutor. And, you know what? That’s exactly what we are going to do. I’m going to ask Tony if his intern will tutor you.’’

   ‘’Peter,’’ Jasmine lifts her head up and looks at Steve, continuing to wipe her tears, ‘’From church?’’

   ‘’Yes, your crush,’’ Steve teases to which Jasmine giggles.

   ‘’Okay. Do you think that he can help me pass math?’’

   ‘’I’m sure that if he can’t, he knows someone that will. So, what do you say, kiddo? Ready to get yourself a tutor?’’

   ‘’You bet,’’ she nods, looking at his lunch, then the time on the clock, ‘’Daddy, we have to get to school! I want to give my music teacher her bracelet that I made her!’’

   ‘’You’re right. Grab your boots and let’s hit it.’’

   September has given way to fall, and Steve and Jasmine crunch the leaves under their feet as they make their way to the school building. Steve has to drag Jasmine along a bit, seeing as they got in late from church last night. But she perks up when he brings up her music teacher again.

   ‘Daddy, she is so nice! Yesterday, we got to makeup songs about school supplies,’’Jasmine reveals, sticking her arm out so that her dad so that he can guide her across the street through the crowds of people coming and going.

   When the duo makes it to the school, they share their customary high-five before going their separate ways.

   ‘’Good morning, Mr. Rogers,’’ you smile as you walk past him to your classroom.

   ‘’Good morning. And call me Steve,’’ he beams at your retreating form, ‘’I assume I’ll be seeing you today?’’

   ‘’Actually, we should be all good,’’ you turn around to face him as he comes closer, on the way to his class, ‘’Unless you just like seeing me.’’

   ‘’I-I, um, you know-,’’ Steve begins to sputter, causing you to giggle a bit.

   ‘’Steve, relax. I’m kidding. But I do thank you for being so kind to me these first few weeks. I’ll see you later,’’ you turn around, taking your key to unlock your classroom.

   And Steve tries to ignore the slight pang of disappointment that accompanies that statement. 

   ‘’Thank you so much for your help, Olivia,’’ Steve smiles as he high-fives the five-year-old, who beams in response.

   ‘’Thank you, Mr. Rogers,’’ she nearly whispers, following her kindergarten class into the hallway and back to there room

   No sooner than the students leave is Steve interrupted while organizing for the next class to come in.

‘’Mr. Rogers.’’

Steve looks up from where he is placing materials on the tables in preparation for his next art class to see you at the door, dressed in a blouse and professional bottoms…

With a giant coffee stain on your shirt.

‘’Woah, what happened,’’ he questions as you enter, futility scrubbing at the stain with a damp paper towel.

‘’Fourth grader running down the hallway. Luckily, it’s ice coffee,’’ you huff, tossing the paper towel away, ‘’Um, I’m here because Jasmine said that you had a pen to get stains out. I was if I could borrow it?’’

‘’You know,’’ Steve chuckles, walking over to his desk to retrieve it for you, ‘’We’ve got to stop coming to each other when we need things only.’’

Since your arrival three weeks ago, you and Steve stop by each other's rooms frequently. After all, you’re right down the hall from each other.

He needed a stapler, you needed a case of pencils and couldn’t find the janitor. Mr. Smith. He needed to know what time the assembly started, and you needed help with the copy room printer that always jammed and he didn't mind, did he?

‘’Thanks,’’ you sigh in relief, scrubbing at the stain, ‘’I sense you’re prone to messes, too?’’

‘’Not me. Jazzy,’’ he shakes his head fondly, ‘’She’s always moving, always rushing. She gets that from me, but her mom always used to spill on herself, too.’’

‘’I see,’’ you smile gently, pressing the cap back onto the pen before giving it to Steve, ‘’Thank you, Mr. Rogers.’’

‘’Please, call me Steve. We’re cowowrkers,’’ he reminds you, and it takes everything you have in you to bite back the smile that is beginning to form on your lips.

Okay, okay.He’s cute. But you’re his co-worker, you just got here, and you’ve got a lot on your proverbial plate already.

‘’Oh, um, listen. I’d packed Jasmine some lasagna that I made last night, but DeShawn’s mother packed her lunch today. So, if you want, since we have the same planning period…’’

‘’I’d love to. We can eat in my class, okay?’’

‘’Okay,’’ Steve nods, shoving his hands in his pocket.

‘’I’ll see you at 12:30,’’ you agree, exiting his classroom and heading back to your own to prepare for your first graders from Ms. Wilson’s class.

Just in time to miss Steve’s fist pump.

And he doesn’t see you do the same thing in the hallway.

   When you first moved to New York from Texas, it was for a fresh start. You’d parked your car, and moved in with your aunt and your uncle. Your uncle is the pastor at a local church, and he was more than happy to let you move into their house in New Jersey with them until you could get your bearings.

and he’d heard about the opening for the music teacher as a way for you to more easily get on your feet. In fact, you have a meeting with a landlord tomorrow to look at a one-bedroom apartment a few blocks from the school.

   You’ve been taking time getting used to your new surroundings. Every day, you take a walk right before work, taking in your surroundings and casually absorbing people. On the weekends, you find one new restaurant to try with your ‘’restaurant buddy’’.  After church, you say hi to one new person.  At work, you make it a point to say hi to one new co-worker each day.

   For a while, though,you seem to be making it a point to find any reason to talk to one Steve Rogers.

   Steve is one hundred percent handsome, and very  kind. He always has a smile on his face, he is so good with the students, and you can see how much he loves his daughter.

   ‘’Hi, mommy!’’

   You’re broken out of your thoughts by a young kindergartner who is waving at you as she clutches a hall pass.

   ‘’Hey, honey, why aren’t you in class?’’

   ‘’Teddy got sick in our class bathroom and I’m going to the big kids’ bathroom,’’ she beams, feeling proud of herself.

   ‘’Oooh, that’s a big step! Now make sure you go and get right back to class, baby. Mommy’s gotta go get ready for ehr new class. And you go with Ms. Potts after school, I’ll pick you up from  her classroom at 4:40, alright?’’

   ‘’Alright, mommy,’’she nods dutifully before trekking off up the hallway to the bathroom.

   Your five-year-old daughter is your first, and only child. She started kindergarten here when you moved, and it’s taking a while, but she’s slowly coming out of her shell.

   When your daughter was born, you had just finished college with a degree in teaching. Though her arrival was about five years ahead of your timeline, you were ecstatic. You’ve always wanted to be a mom, and this journey just began earlier than you expected.  Her dad, your then-boyfriend, Darryl, was less than thrilled at the prospect of a new baby, but he agreed to be there.

   That is, until he wasn’t. One day, the texts stopped being returned, the calls went unanswered, and he didn't drop by. A quick visit to his apartment confirmed your fear- only three months after your daughter’s birth, and he had decided that this was not for him. No conversation, no warning, nothing.

   And had you not had your faith, your church family, and family and friends, you’re not exactly sure where you would be. The combined forces have helped you get through your first year of teaching, your move, apartment, hunting, and most importantly, raising your  beautiful baby girl.

   Your next class is milling in now, so you put on your best smile and greet the students, earning high-fives and hugs from the class of second graders.

       And so begins another class.

   ‘’Hey, lunch buddy,’’ Steve appears at your doorway, right on time.

   ‘’Hey,’’ you smile at him, nodding for him to enter.

   ‘’I warmed it up for you, hope that’s okay,’’ he speaks, placing your lunch on your desk and pulling up a chair for you as you pull two bottles of water from your bag.

   ‘’Thanks for sharing with me,’’ you speak up, ‘’Otherwise it would have been peanut butter and jelly again.’’

   ‘’Hey, nothing wrong with a classic,’’ he grins at you, ‘’I forgot to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping… you look really nice today.’’

   You’d woken up a little earlier today, so you took care with your hair, slicking it back into a bun and taking the time to gel down your edges. Your favorite, red jumpsuit is on, and you’ve got the red ballet flats to match.

   ‘’Thank you, Steve,’’ you return the gesture,completing his outfit.

   You enjoy your lunch with Steve. The teacher lounge is great and everything, but you like quiet conversation during your lunch. So  it’s nice to spend time with your teacher neighbor, and relax before your last two classes of the day, and glee club practice.

   ‘’So, how long have you been teaching here,’’ you ask after praying over your food, silently reveling in the taste of the pasta that he’s given you.

   ‘’About ten years. I was hired here the year before Jazzy was born. This is, uh, actually where I met her mom,’’ he reveals, a look that you don’t quite understand crossing his face before he shakes it off, ‘’How long have you been a teacher?’’

   ‘’Five years ago, I started out in Texas as a grade-school special education teacher. I’m dual-licensed,’’ you move back in your chair, looking out the window, ‘’It’s quite different going from having a classroom full of students that you’re with all day to only seeing students a few times a week for 45 minutes.’’

   ‘’I imagine it’s also really difficult to come here from Texas. Did you have any family?’’

   ‘’Yeah, I moved in with my aunt and uncle. They’ve been a great help, but I think I ‘m ready to head out on my own. With their help, of course,’’ you amend, tapping your fingers against the desk, ‘’I don’t know. I just like the feeling of being independent.’’

   ‘’Well, you still seem pretty independent to me. But, you know, if you'd find a place, you’ve got two people that’ll help you move in. You’re Jasmine’s favorite teacher. She talks about you non-stop at home.’’

   ‘’She’s wonderful,’’ you shake your head, laughing fondly, ‘’And very headstrong.’’    

   ‘’Always has been,’’ he chuckles, ‘’Just like her mother.’’

   Before you can respond to that, they’re calling you over the PA system, and lunch is cut short. Steve follows you out, allowing you to lock your class door and head to the office.

   And giving you a minute to feel just a tad bit sour on missing the rest of your not-a-date-lunch-date with Steve.

   After the glee club picks up, you’re exhausted. Thank goodness you’re aunt is making dinner tonight, because you plan on crawling straight into bed after dinner.

   ‘’Mommy!,’’ your daughter screams,rushing forward and leaping into your arms.

   ‘’Gey, you know we don’t get that loud in the school building. But I’m happy to see you,’’ you smooth down her flyaway curls, ‘’Girl, what did you do to your hair?’’

   ‘’We were discussing static electricity,’’ Pepper informs you, walking over holding a first grader and a kindergartener's hands. ‘’She was absolutely lovely and so well-behaved. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’’

   ‘’Okay,’’ you and your daughter nod before you take her to the parking lot, ready to head home.

   ‘’Mommy, are we having pizza for dinner again?’’

   ‘’No, we’re having whatever Auntie is making. And you’re going to be polite, even if you don’t like it. Understood?’’

   ‘’Yes, momma,’’ she nods, to unlock the car and place her in her booster seat before heading around to the driver’s side.

   Your night time routine is, somehow, a bit more chaotic than your morning routine. Baby girls are always tired from school, your aunt is exasperated after dealing with high school students all day, your uncle is tired from whatever volunteer or service he has done that day, and you’re just tired. But you’ve got to feed  your daughter, bathe her, do her hair, help with her homework, and send her off to sleep before working on your own planning.

   ‘’So, honey,’’ your aunt tells you as you send the resident kindergartner to the bathroom to wash her hands, ‘’I’ve got this great guy at church I’d like to set you up with.’’

   ‘’That’s gonna be a no from me,’’ you sneak a cucumber from the salad your uncle is making, causing him to playfully glare at you.

   ‘’Leave that girl alone,’’ your uncle jests.

   ‘’She’s a smart, lovely, beautiful young woman and he’s a good man!,’’ your aunt defends.

   ‘’I don’t have time for dating! We just got here, I need to put down roots first. Besides… I’m not even sure that I want to be dating right now.’’

   In some ways you’re still reeling from your relationship with Darryl. And you’ve been on dates, but nothing serious.

   ‘’Oooh, have you got sights set on someone at work,’’ your aunt smirks, earning a groan from you, which she laughs heartily at, ‘’You do!’’

   ‘’My sights are not set on him, but he is attractive. He’s with someone, though, so… there that goes.’’

   ‘’And here goes your daughter, so pipe down,’’ your uncle whispers, knowing you hate discussing dating in front of her.

   Soon, dinner is served and you're grateful to put the issue to bed.

   When it’s time to tuck your daughter, she’s smiling at you as she strokes the curls of your hair.

   ‘’Your hair is pretty, mommy.’’

   ‘’Thank you, sweetheart. Your hair is pretty, too,’’ you respond, taking her hand and kissing it, ‘’Time for bed, ladybug.’’

   ‘’Okay. Good night, mommy.’’

   ‘’Good night, Olivia. Mommy loves you,’’ you speak.

   Then, it’s time for you to head in for the night, leaving all thoughts of blind dates, school, work and Steve Rogers behind before drifting off to sleep.

DISCLAIMER- I own no rights to any Marvel characters, places, etc. 

@ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @starsshines-blog @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21 @supremethunda @thisiskayesworld @mcusocialimagines @priya212  @kumkaniudaku  @airis-paris14 @alexundefined @fonville-designs  @dramaqueenamby  @mellowjellow6 @oceanscorazon @nerd-lovely @fonville-designs @akimi-youngblood @yoyolovesbucky @fd-writes

[justsomeartsthings]

Print Me A House And Home

Summary: Sans breaks the lab’s printers while Alphys is away. With a little applied quantum theory, this somehow leads to his boss becoming his flatmate. Pre-Sanster, Sans POV, Fluff (with a sprinkle of Angst).

.

“ya gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

You rap your knuckles on the side of the printer. There’s a click and a foreboding thump from inside. You take a cautious step back, hands raised. 

“uh. hey, doc, is al in today?”

No response. You glance into the empty office behind you.

“boss?”

No dice.

“…i’m stealing your snacks. speak now or forever hold your chisps.”

Nada.

“your loss, dude.”

You snag the bag of popato chisps off of his desk and pop them open. The noise is like a firecracker set off inside your skull.

…Still ix-nay on the eleton-skay.

You toss a few chisps past your teeth and knock on the printer again. No one home. Not even a suspicious ticking noise. Lame.

You’re halfway through the chisps bag, tapping an absent rhythm on the printer, when there’s footsteps and the rustling of papers in the hallway. A few seconds later, Dr. W. D. Gaster strides through the doorway, head bowed. It’s a rare candid moment; he’s too engrossed in the notebook in his hands to notice you.

You watch him for a bit, debating whether to spook him.

“‘sup.”

To his credit, he doesn’t physically startle. He does snap his notebook shut, abruptly alert. “Sans. What are you…?”

“had to use your printer.” You extend the open pop bag. “chisp?”

He doesn’t even check to see if they’re his. He takes one. “The vending machine is two floors down.”

“eh. too far.”

“You could use the elevator.”

“why bother. it’s just gonna let me down.”

“Mm. And I suppose you’ve vetoed the stairs because they are ‘up to something’.”

“hey. don’t knock my jokes. they’re hy-stair-ical.” You crumple the empty chisp bag and toss it at Gaster, who catches it and drops it in the bin. “is alphys clocking in anytime soon?”

“She’s at a seminar in New Home. She won’t be back for another four hours.” He places the notebook on his desk. “Is there something wrong with your own printer?”

“yup. i tried to print a report of some results for an experiment this morning. somethin’ went wrong, think i jammed it. figured i’d use yours.”

His eyelights snap to the printer. “And it’s jammed mine as well?”

You chuckle. Break into the man’s office under printing problem pretenses, and watch him squirm. Give him a printer to fix, he’ll hyperfixate on it so hard he almost seems sane.

“looks like it. same thing happened to al’s printer, too.”

“That would explain why I couldn’t print my notes a few hours ago.” He approaches the machine, huffing. “It’s only Tuesday, and you’ve already managed to break all three of our printers.”

“i call it a magic touch.”

“I find it highly unlikely you would ever employ percussive maintenance. Especially of the bullet pattern variety.”

“heh heh. point taken.” You shrug. “wrong on the first count, though. i gave ‘em a few love taps.”

“Mm. Bandages are on my desk.”

“cute. i can take a printer, old man, and i could take you.”

“That would put you at two counts of theft and one of kidnapping. Tread carefully.” He removes the back panel of the printer and peers inside. “That’s peculiar. This experiment report— was it for the causality trials?”

“just the test run.”

“And your printer has the same kind of jam?”

“same jelly, same jar.”

“It appears to be routine.”

“bread n’butter.”

“It looks fried.”

“that’s probably a doughboy, then.”

“It can’t be a coincidence.”

“i didn’t say coincidence, i said doughboy.”

He snaps out of his thoughts at that. “What? What’s ‘doughboy?’”

“uh, s’like pre-bread? don’t call me ‘boy’.”

“I didn’t—” He shakes his head, baffled. “What in Asgore’s name are you going on about?”

“the printer. you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

He shoots you a glare just before shoving his hands all up in the printer’s mechanical guts. “I’m a highly skilled engineer who just so happened to design and construct the self-sustaining generator which the entire Underground, including this lab, runs on. I can handle a jammed printer.”

“ok, jeez, doc. no point tryin’ to print receipts, the printer’s already doughboy-ed.”

Gaster doesn’t reply, but after a few moments of tinkering, he does squint in a concerning manner. “Hm.”

“hm?”

“Hm.”

“i’m no printer engineer, but ‘hm’ doesn’t sound like a technical term.”

“It is when I say it.” And, well, he’s got you there. “It appears Alphys has been printing Mew Mew Kissy Cutie posters on her work printer.”

“uh,” you say. “what? how do you know?”

In response, Gaster pulls out an impossibly large poster from the back of the printer. It’s slightly crumpled, due to its dimensions being bigger than the printer could ever realistically print, and even laminated, which you’re pretty sure Gaster’s printer can’t do.

“Something tells me we will find your test results in Alphys’ printer, and my notes from this morning in yours.”

“woah. you’re kiddin’. scoot over,” you say, sidling up to him to peer inside the printer’s exposed mechanics. “you think alphys’ printer and my printer are superposed in yours?”

“Potentially.”

“that’s… uh,” you say. “impractical.”

“To say the least.”

“alphys is gonna have a field day with this when she gets back.”

“I’m sure the eventual clutter of dismantled printers will speak for itself.”

“heh. i gotta say, i’m kinda disappointed. i expected superposition to sound a lot more chaotic.”

He makes an assenting noise. You look over at him, and then nearly do a double-take. You didn’t notice before, but he’s as tense as a compressed spring, very intently inspecting the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster. Or, more likely, very deliberately not looking at you. 

Upon second glance, you are a lot closer to him than you reasonably need to be.

“heh. whoops. my bad,” you say, stepping to the side. “didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“…Not at all,” he says quietly, then clears his throat. He puts the back panel over the printer again and straightens up. “We should, er, go check the other printers. Just in case.”

“sure,” you say.

“Good,” he says.

“great,” you say.

And you go.

It’s kind of funny, this sort of dance the two of you have fallen into. Stepping on eggshells, tiptoeing around each other at work. Ignoring that you’ve got a crush on him. That he’s got a gigantic crush on you. It’s ridiculous, and hilarious, mainly because he’s centuries old and you’re, well, not.

For whatever reason, whether he’s worried about being deemed a cradle robber or a douchebag boss, or something else entirely, he hasn’t made a move on you yet. But hey, that’s fine by you. You’ve got all the time in the world.

Though you do hope it won’t actually take him that long.

“It will be faster if we split up,” he says, once you reach the intersecting hallway between your office and Alphys’. He starts to take off by himself, leaving you behind.

You reach out and grab his wrist.

“hang on a sec. if you’re right about superposition—”

“It’s very likely that I am.”

“then you realize checking the printers separately could affect the outcome. ‘that which is observed is changed’, n’all that?”

“Well, yes. But it may be an inevitability anyway,” he says. “And even so, the replication of this event is statistically extremely unlikely. This may be our only chance to see whether our theory of personal observation holds true.”

“but it’ll kill the control variable, won’t it? we already saw your printer—”

“Oh, it could, most certainly— but not if our current theories of quantum entanglement hold true.”

“quantum—? for a whole printer? boss, we’re years away from proving that particle entanglement exists on the subatomic scale, never mind above it.”

“Not once we check the printers, we won’t be,” he points out. “There’s a chance the only way to trigger binding entanglement at such a large scale is through unrelated proofs.”

Unrelated—?

And, oh. 

You’re physically incapable of gaping, but the sentiment must show in your eyelights, because he grins down at you, the smug bastard.

“All caught up?”

“we’ll know entanglement can occur if our personal observations affect the outcomes of a superimposed subject— and if it doesn’t, we’ll have potentially disproven three separate quantum theories at once, since each cannot exist without the other. it’s… extremely assumptive and unreliable science—”

“Unless it works.”

“uh, no, i’m pretty sure it’s still unorthodox and totally fallible,” you say. “but hey. personal confirmation’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”

He laughs, bright and clear. “Yes, yes, I suppose. In a sense.”

“well, then, in a sense, it’s genius.”

More than genius, really. And Gaster knows it is, going by the look on his face. For a moment, time slows, and you take in his eyelights, fuzzy and dilated. How his entire silhouette brims with restrained excitement. Riding on the high that comes just before a dramatic breakthrough.

And yeah, maybe there’s more important things at hand, but god, he’s beautiful when he gets like this.

“heh. how ‘bout we save the ego inflation until after we get results,” you say. The cusp of quantum discovery isn’t the time or place for mutual, unspoken workplace crushes.

“Right. Then we’ll meet back here as soon as possible,” Gaster says, and turns to go—

Only to be yanked back by your hand, clasped tightly in his.

Oh.

You stare at your joined hands, soul fluttering. His fingers are intertwined with yours, slender phalanges and thick knuckles complementing each other like a welded whole.

At some point, you must’ve let go of his wrist and taken his hand instead. You hadn’t even noticed.

“uh. eheh. whoops.” You let go and try to pull away. But Gaster’s hand doesn’t budge. “doc?”

He’s as still as a statue, his eyelights focused somewhere over your shoulder. A flighty feeling grows in your bones the longer you have his hand in yours. 

And then he says, quietly: “Have you been sleeping here, Sans?”

Your soul wrenches itself in another direction.

“what?”

Gaster gestures behind you with his other hand, but you don’t turn to look. In a rush, it comes to you, what he must be looking at. 

You’d had a long night, then a rough morning with Pap. This afternoon, you weren’t as careful as you usually are. You remember leaving your office door open, and, like the idiot you are, you remember leaving out your sleeping bag, your cheap diner food wrappers, your half-sharpied sneakers. And then you got so caught up in causality, your experiment, and printing those results— 

You forgot to hide your mess.

Fuck.

“You’ve been sleeping here overnight.”

“it’s not, uh,” you begin weakly, but it really is what it looks like. And judging by the way Gaster hasn’t torn his eyelights from your mess, he knows it. 

There’s no point making a fool out of yourself by lying. 

But that doesn’t mean you don’t hate the way your voice goes quiet without your consent. 

“…it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“What about your brother— Papyrus? Is he—?”

“no. god, no. trust me, you’d know if pap was loose in this place,” you chuckle a little desperately. “he stays with a couple of friends in new home while i work. temporarily, y’know. just while we’re between houses.”

“Between houses,” Gaster echoes, finally looking down at you again. It’s fine. You’re fine. “I locked down the lab last weekend— were you on the streets for that time?”

“nah, we, uh. heh.” You clear your throat. Look to the wall. Shove your free hand in your pocket. 

Anything to distract from the fact that you can’t keep your voice steady.

You’ve never talked about it to anyone before. Out loud. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult. And it doesn’t help that Gaster doesn’t give you an out. He just stares at you, expectant. You have no idea how to read the expression he’s wearing. 

So you gather yourself and let your mouth run like a loose motor.

“we house-hopped for a while, ‘til we could make it to snowdin. there’s a place out there i’ve been savin’ up for. real spacious, real cheap. y’know. somethin’ decent we can handle the mortgage for with my salary. and the guy who owns it wanted to meet up anyway. so th’ timing worked out.”

“Sans—”

“it’s fine, doc. really. trust me. been doin’ this since i could remember,” And it is fine. The more you talk, the less he’ll hear. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t let him speak. “listen, i’ll pack it all up when i clock out, i’ve got friends we can bunk with—”

“Absolutely not.”

“—i can make it work, but, uh, y’know, i’m sorry i—”

“Sans.” He squeezes your hand, tight. Your soul scales your throat and smothers your protests. “You’re staying in my apartment until the house is yours.”

You blink up at him, uncomprehending.

“Asgore rents the place out to me, as per our contract. I can assure you, you would not be imposing.”

Slowly, the words start to trickle in. Imposing. In his apartment.

He wants you to stay. With him. In his apartment.

“oh,” you say. Like an idiot.

“It’s fully stocked, and more than big enough to house you, your brother, and I.”

The mention of Papyrus is enough to get your thoughts moving again.

“wh— uh. hang on. slow down, doc. i can’t do that.” He doesn’t reply. You shake your head, even as some part of you starts to settle into the idea. A house, regular meals. Gaster sleeping in the neighboring room. “no, no, c’mon. i’m serious.”

“As am I.”

He is. And you hate that. You hate that he’s serious. 

You hate that you want him to be serious.

Now you can’t stop yourself from considering it. Your thoughts run ahead of you, wondering what you’d be able to do if you weren’t constantly worrying about food on the table or the roof overhead. What a relief it would be to have a stable home life, not in a few years, not in a few months, but now.

No more bed hopping, or borrowing clothes. No more stretches of time spent starving in dank alleyways.

No need to worry about transportation to the lab or to wherever Pap ends up staying during the work day.

And not just that, but someone to secure it for you. Someone you know for a fact won’t toss you out at the drop of a pin, who won’t hold it over your head, or pander ulterior motives. 

Someone who doesn’t think you’re a disgusting excuse for a monster.

It sounds too good to be true.

And to top it all off, here Gaster is, looking at you like he knows he’s offering you dinners and bedtimes and breakfasts and domestic things and stability and a normal life that you could never get on your own merit.

And the only objection you can think of is:

“doesn’t that break some sort of— i dunno, fraternization rule, or something?”

Gaster blinks down at you. You’re slightly relieved to see his expression change into something more familiar.

“We are a collective twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery that could redefine the way we conceptualize reality itself,” he says, “and you’re worried about fraternization.”

Which, okay, that’s a little unfair.

“doc, we’re twenty steps away from an immense scientific discovery, and you wanna argue about where i sleep at night.”

He takes a breath to argue, then cants his head. “You have a point.”

“don’t i.”

“This can wait.”

“can’t it.”

“I suppose we should… get on with it.”

“uh-huh.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “as soon as you let go of my hand.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” He releases your hand a little sheepishly. Centuries, you have to remind yourself. “Apologies.”

“don’t sweat it.”

As soon as he starts moving, you turn heel and make a beeline for your office. 

You shut the door behind you and slide down the back of it until your knees hit your chest. Then you tuck your head between your legs and you breathe.

You’re fine. It’s fine. You just— you need a minute. Just a minute. In a few seconds, you’ll open your eyesockets, and you’ll be fine.

Alone. Safe.

Fine.

You open your eyes.

Your mess awaits you, splayed at your ankles. It spirals far into the room like an extension of yourself. You stare at it with the appropriate amount of disgust.

Strewn wrappers, unwashed laundry. Empty bottles and cans you planned to sell for a couple G apiece. You never left any of it out during the daytime before. Not where the stark laboratory overhead lights strip it of nighttime’s leniency. Right now, it’s all there, laid bare for the world to see.

It’s just things. Fabric and plastic and glass and other meaningless things. 

It is what it is, but it’s not. It’s more than that.

And you know, if it would’ve been Alphys, it would’ve been easier. Because you’re not ashamed of your situation. Really. It sucks, but it happens. You get that. She would get that. It’s just. You just didn’t want anyone to know. You didn’t want Gaster to know. 

You didn’t want Gaster to look at your things and see more than just quirks or weird habits. But he did. Almost too quickly. He saw right through you. 

You wouldn’t have pegged him for a monster who has fallen on hard times. Not like you have.

But it happens. You get that.

So…

So maybe you have less to worry about than you thought.

You swipe at your eyesockets and take to your feet. Either way, you shouldn’t dwell on it, not now. Not when you have work to do. 

...Not when you have three quantum theories to potentially disprove, what in Asgore’s name are you doing?

Your printer is just as you left it on your desk. You loop around the back of it, kicking a stray ketchup bottle out of your way, and take off the panel without a hitch.

No Mew Mew Kissy Cutie poster in sight. Small mercies. You plunge your hand into the printer’s depths.

“yahtzee,” you mutter under your breath, once you’re elbow-deep. 

Anticipation sneaks past your defenses, as you pull out the piece of paper touching your fingertips. Your shambles of a home life aside, this is a big moment. You should be enjoying it.

You shake out the page, flatten it against your desk, and quickly scour its contents.

...It’s Gaster’s notes. In his handwriting, scanned and copied and printed.

Unwittingly, you start to re-crumple the paper between your fingers. The mess in your office melts away, suddenly distant and small in comparison to the realization cresting your thoughts— the mantra ringing through your head over and over like the chiming of the Judgement Hall’s bells— 

He did it.

He was right.

Superposition, entanglement, personal observation— everything. He was right.

You don’t get the chance to bolt out of your office— he meets you at your door. You swing it open, blustered by the draft, and hold up Gaster’s notes. He starts laughing before you even see your experiment report in his hands.

“holy shit,” you breathe.

“Indeed.”

“holy shit.”

“I am treating both you and your brother to dinner tonight,” Gaster pants, slapping the report into your hands. “Until then, we can discuss a more suitable salary for your expenses. Come evening, we’ll pick up Papyrus…”

He keeps talking, but you can’t process a word of what he’s saying. It doesn’t occur to you that you probably just got a raise, or that you won’t be dumpster diving tonight, or even that you’ve somehow completely accepted the fact that you’ll be roommates with your boss for the foreseeable future.

None of it matters, because Gaster is grinning, eyesockets wide, breath stolen from wonder, his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. He looks barely in control of himself.

You can’t believe you thought he was beautiful before. You’ve never seen him look at you like this.

You don’t want him to stop.

Eventually, however, he realizes you aren’t listening to a word he’s saying. So he stops talking, rolls his eyelights, and abruptly turns around to lead the way back to his office.

You blink after his receding outline, still blinded by the afterimage of his expression. Something brushes your side, and you look down.

One of his conjured hands is clutching yours. The asymmetry of the grip is just as perfectly aligned as it was with his real hand. 

You give the mimic a squeeze. It squeezes back.

With one last look at the chaos of your office, you shut your door behind you and drift along in Gaster’s wake, smiling.

.

AO3

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 10: Runaway

Man, I cannot believe we’re up to #10 (I’m kind of ready for Christmas - and summer - to be over, honestly). 

To the fic!

(Another Alice AU! Human Alice AU! When human Alice is sent to a psychiatric hospital, she gets a vision of Jasper and heads off to find him, and then convince him to find the Cullens.)

//

The snow was up to his knees as he moved steadily through the forest. He kept his gaze straight ahead, though his stance looked awkward to anyone who might have seen him. He wasn’t moving at full speed, but faster than a human should have been capable of in such snow.

Eventually, he saw what he was looking for, finally.

The trees finally parted to reveal a large white house with a cheery red roof. The garden spilt right into the forest. Other than being a nice house, there was essentially nothing special about it.  

He huffed, ducking through the last of the trees. They had made it. Hopefully in time.

“Almost there, darlin’,” he murmured.

As he crossed into the open land, five figures emerged from the house, suspicion radiating off them.

He keeps moving forward to them, picking up his pace slightly.

“I need help,” he said brusquely as he came closer, deciding to ignore the risk of their suspicion. If they chose to attack, it would be disastrous, but he didn’t have the time or power to take the cautious route. “Please.”

“How can we help you?” the eldest male asked politely, but cautiously. The stranger was scarred, and his clothing was a mismatched collection of not-quite worn, worn, and completely worn out. He stood oddly, his stance positively awkward, one that none of the residents could figure out.

The man heaved a sigh, and turned slightly. It took the family a moment to realize precisely what they were seeing.

His arms were looped around oddly, and the sneaker-clad foot was almost hidden by his arm. The eldest woman understood the quickest, gasping as they took the seen in. A girl was huddled against his back, her face waxy and pale, lips tinged blue, and layers upon layers of clothing wrapped around her. Her eyes were closed, and even from a distance, her breathing was a disjointed struggle. Her tiny arms were wrapped loosely around his neck.

She was human.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “Please, please help us.”

//

The flashlight flickered over my face and I tried to relax my face. I only had a tiny window of opportunity and if the nurses found out that I was awake, they’d medicate me and it would be all over. No second chances.

After a few moments, the flashlight moved away from my face, and after a moment – the nurse checking on my roommate, who was thankfully drugged to the gills – and left, the door closing quietly.

And then I could hear the chime – shift change.

I slipped out of my bed, quickly folding the bedding so it looked like maybe I had burrito-ed myself in the blanket. I crept over to the wardrobe and grabbed my backpack and shoes.

I took a deep breath and slipped out of the room. Definitely no going back now.

The hallway was empty – everyone would be at handover, debriefing on who was having a good night, who was having a bad night and who was just being a pain in the ass. Only Jeffery, the security guard, and the admin monkey would be around. It was after midnight.

I crept down the hallway, towards the stairwell. There was only one way out without a security pass – the unbolted window in the storeroom on the first level. I scurried down the stairs, stopping only to pull a hoodie on over my pajamas and jam my feet into my sneakers.

The first floor was totally empty – it was where all the doctor’s offices were. The storeroom was the only one that had a proper key-lock instead of a pass-scanner, since it was just printer paper, paper towels and stuff like that.

But I didn’t have a key. This was where things would get complicated. I knew that the lock and handle was old, but the door was quite heavy. The only thing I had was a metal nail file I had stolen from a nurse to pry the handle off enough to push the door open.

Shouldering my bag, I pulled the file out of my pocket and jammed it between the wood and the metal and threw all my weight against it.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered, trying it again. There was a groan and the handle was clearly coming away. I threw every thing I had and there was a loud clunk as the handle dropped away, and the file snapped, slashing the palms of my hands.  I kicked the door and threw myself against it, it finally swinging open, and I tumbled through, falling over a box of Styrofoam cups.

“Is someone down here?” Oh god, Jeffery. Where Jeffery was, the creepy orderly wouldn’t be far behind. I dragged myself to my feet. The window was right there, and I scrambled up the bookcase, unlatching the window and shoving it open, the screen banging loudly. And I scrambled through, tumbling out and into the dumpster below. Eww.

“Who’s there?” Jeffery was in the storeroom now, and I was rapidly running out of time. In so many ways.

I clumsily clambered out of the dumpster, dazed and bruised and began to run. The staff car park had no fencing, but storm water drains that everyone called ‘the canals’. They would be mostly dry tonight, just mud and sludge. I scrambled down and pressed myself against the concrete for a moment. The sides were almost six feet tall, with a couple of old pipes as my only hand and foot holds. I had seen it, I knew I could do it, but dreaming it was very, very different to living it. I had maybe a minute before the safety lights were turned on.

Only one chance. I had to go now.

I hurled myself up, scrapping my hands raw and trying not to cry. I was gasping for air by the time I made it to the other side. The flood lights came on with an echo, and I could hear people calling. Damnit. Too slow, Alice.

I picked myself up and started to run towards the hiking trails. They wouldn’t catch me, not now.

I was finally free.

//

The Hill Park was abandoned after dark, thankfully.

I had woken up late afternoon, feeling much better rested. I was dirty, and covered in spiders-web, but I was still free.

Clambering out, I pulled a granola bar and my water from my bag, inhaling my meagre meal. Whatever happened, I’d need to find more food, soon. I may have been small, but I needed more than a few stolen snacks.

And then I went and perched on a swing, to wait.

He didn’t arrive til after midnight.

He was so much different in real life. Not better or bigger, just more. He towered above me, with deep crimson eyes and a mop of blonde hair. Angry black circles underscored both his eyes. His clothes were stained and shredded.

Major Jasper Whitlock – either my saviour or my murderer.  My fate was in his hands – and I had put it there, quite willingly.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” I said, standing up to face him, pulling my hood down. He stared at me.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he said in a low voice. Right now, he was interested. Curious. And hungry. But I was still young – too young to be hunted, if he could possibly help it. He wasn’t going to stay.

“Do you want the long version?” I asked, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve. He jerked away from me, his eyes wide. “I have dreams of the future. And I needed to find you. This can go two ways – you can kill me, or you can let me come with you.  If you turn me away, well, I’m dead anyway. Please.”

//

The two vampires looked startled. One was male with brown hair, not quite as tall as Jasper, and rather lean. The other was female and reminded me of a porcelain doll – strawberry blonde curls, round eyes, and a perfect cupid’s-bow mouth. They both wore old and impractical clothing and had bare feet.

And scarlet eyes.

“Who is this?” the woman asked, her eyes wide, darting between Jasper and I.

The male had the strangest look on his face, one I couldn’t decipher. One I didn’t want to decipher.  

“This is Alice. Alice, this is Peter and Charlotte,” Jasper said simply.

“Hello,” I said shyly.

“Hello Alice,” Peter said, staring at me.

Jasper looked up at the sky. “We need to set up camp.”

“Of course,” Charlotte said faintly, shooting an alarmed look at the male.

Jasper kept his arm around me as we moved closer to the river, finding a moderate clearing.

We had camping down to a fine art. We didn’t carry to much with us – Jasper would gather wood and stone so I could build the fire; my bedding was just his parka as a mattress, and mine as a blanket; in the new few weeks, I’d have to find a sleeping bag, before it turned cold.

I used the river to wash, and fill my water bottles.

The vampire couple watched us curiously, and both visibly flinched when I got my campfire going.

By the time night fell, I was sitting in front of the fire, eating. It wasn’t much – an orange, a package of crackers, a can of tuna. Jasper already had plans to go into the next town to get more supplies in the next day or two. Jasper was sitting beside me, the couple sitting towards his right, their gazes darting to the fire every few seconds. I never really thought about how uncomfortable Jasper must be when I made a fire. He never said anything.

“So,” Peter said finally. “Where did you and Alice meet?”

“California,” Jasper said, watching as I began peeling my orange, throwing the peel into the fire. I was tired, I’d need to sleep soon.

“How old are you, Alice?” Charlotte asked me; she still wore an expression of curiosity on her face, like I was a puzzle should couldn’t figure out.

“Nearly fifteen,” I said, looking up at her. My hair was twisted up into a messy bun, and I was wearing an oversized sweater and sweatpants to sleep in; I looked homeless compared to her, and she look like she hadn’t bathed in the last year.

“And where are you headed?” Peter seemed uncomfortable as I crammed fruit into my mouth.

“North,” Jasper said with certainty. “Somewhere safe. Nevada was too dangerous.”

“As bad as New Orleans,” Peter agreed.

I reached out and grabbed my water bottle. “I’m going to get some sleep,” I said, looking down at Jasper, who smiled up at me.

“Sleep well, darlin’,” he murmured.

I walked over to my little bed, behind the fire, wrapping the coats around me, and falling asleep easily, to the sound of the fire crackling, and of the forest settling for the night.

“You turn a girl that young, and the Volturi will never stop watchin’ you!”

I was neither awake nor asleep, but aware of the agitated conversation behind me.

“I’m not gonna change her!”

“Then what the hell is goin’ on here? We don’t hear from you in a decade, and then we find you playin’ house with a little human girl in the middle of the forest!”

“Peter, calm yourself. Jasper, you understand that we’re confused. This isn’t what we expected to find.”

“She’s… she needed help, she was in danger. She’s… Alice has dreams of the future, and they told her to find me, to keep her safe from someone. And I… I don’t know what I was thinking, but now... she helps. Me. She makes everything… less difficult.” He sounded strained.

“Oh, Jasper,” Charlotte sighed. “What are you going to do? You can’t just walk the length and breadth of the country with her, she’s human. And you can’t change her until she’s older.”

“She… she had dreams about a coven, one who doesn’t hunt humans and would accept both of us amongst their ranks. That they would help us and keep us safe.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I just want to find somewhere she can live that is safe, and that place isn’t a coven.”

But before I could hear the end of the conversation, sleep swallowed me again.