#when the reality is that He Is Not Ready To Accept This About Himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theemporium · 2 months

Text

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

series masterlist

Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious.

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days after the party, with a message from you on his screen.

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours?

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality.

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy

hockey boy: and annoying

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance).

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.”

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.”

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?”

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?”

Jack snorted in response.

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted.

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves.

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day.

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it.

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out.

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?”

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.”

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.”

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again.

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice.

“Not sure.”

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?”

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?”

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him.

“Do I need to give you a curfew?”

“Fuck off!”

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode.

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted.

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it.

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?”

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.”

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you.

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.”

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated.

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion.

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.”

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.”

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze.

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?”

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.”

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born.

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.”

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words.

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?”

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused.

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again.

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?”

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?”

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.”

“My training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.”

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinked. “You’re asking me?”

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.”

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer.

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you.

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss.

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow.

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again.

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?”

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod.

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.”

You raised your brows. “This good?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?”

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.”

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you.

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire.

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.”

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red.

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much.

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white.

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it.

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—”

“For what?”

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?”

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.”

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…”

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.”

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.”

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response.

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food.

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy.

It made his head spin, in a good way.

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you.

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend.

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised.

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend.

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

1K notes · View notes

bluexiao · 1 year

Text

#taking off your ring in the middle of a fight

–pretty self-explanatory// this can also mean a promise ring or engagement ring that they gave to you

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Diluc, Il Dottore, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader

THEMES. angst, arguments, slight crack on one of them (guess who), most has no comfort, some has comfort

NOTES. i haven’t been posting multi-hc’s have i? well, here yall go~

ZHONGLI, at first, failed to notice it until he opened his eyes and turned your way.

It was just an argument, all couples do have one. All normal relationships have such situations, after all. Yet it was beyond him to see the band over the table, where you had just been moments ago, only to leave him to ponder with his thoughts all alone.

He quickly turns and follows you to wherever you might’ve gone, “love?” he calls out with a full voice? “Love?” And a broken one after that when he sees you on the bed, folding clothes on your own.

“Are you… leaving?” He hesitated, clearing his throat and prompting you to look up and meet his eyes.

He braces himself for your answer, brave enough to accept your answer, whatever it may be. He wouldn’t stop you—you have every right to leave, after all.

“What? No, of course not, what made you think-” then your gaze trails down to your fingers upon seeing the ring on his palm, instantly reaching out and taking it from him, “Oh-was that? I was only… I took it off because I had to wash my hands to fold the clothes.” You slowly explained, realizing the intention behind his question as you do so.

“Oh, beloved… I am never leaving you,” you stood up and he was the one who stepped forward and received you in his arms, wrapping you and him sighing out heavily once he felt your body against his.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO felt the way his knees buckled as he zeroes into your hands, now holding onto the ring that was once wrapped around one of your fingers. That same ring that he had created out of the love from the depths of his heart, a ring that symbolized not only his feelings but also his pledge to never sever the bond you have.

Did you not… want it anymore?

Was the first thought that plagued his mind.

Perhaps… you had finally grown tired of him after all that he has done. After all, who was he to expect you’d always be there for him, when he had clearly not done the same.

He couldn’t really blame you at this point.

He had just ruined the only good thing in his life—and maybe for the better… for you.

Just as he was about to turn around and walk away without a word, he slips back into reality and away from his thoughts on the warmth that attaches itself on his cheeks—a familiar warmth that never fails to pull him out of the darkness and into your presence.

“Darling, shh… what’s wrong? Hey, Xiao? Talk to me, please,” the tenderness of your touch and your soft voice envelops his mind and he couldn’t help but lean into your palm further, placing his gloved hands on top of yours and relishing them on his skin. How they were enough to calm him down makes him even more… greedy—how can he live without you now? The mere thought of it scares him, the old XIAO may not be able to admit it, but the new one after you came into the picture would.

“Please… don’t leave me,” despite this, his words left his lips in a hushed tone, slipping out like a whisper meant for your ears only—his weakness that he never let anyone else see, even his own god.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄��₊

TIGHNARI heard your scoff before he saw it. He frowns at the mere sight of your empty fingers, and the glare that’s ever so present in your face.

He marches forward your way and you stood your ground, ready to be hurt by his usual sharo words only to-

“Are you seriously removing our ring because of a petty argument?”

You immediately glance down and before you can sputter out a response, he takes a hold of your hand and slips the ring back himself, back to where it once was—where it belongs. Once you had glanced at him again, he had this relieved look on his face and the twitching on his ears and tail that you didn’t bother to point out.

Was that… a big deal to him?

Your own harsh words died down before they even got out, realizing that there really was no point to continue it as you heaved out a sigh.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

SCARAMOUCHE freezes–not literally, but still–and the ice melts almost suddenly, burning with the intensity of his glare.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

The thing with SCARAMOUCHE is that he takes—he takes what he wants and he will get it either way. With you, he doesn’t understand how you get your way and he becomes pleased with just seeing you smile.

He just wants to see you smile again.

And that ring on your finger.

But both of them are not really present at this very moment.

“You’re just like the others,” he begins to spat when you respond to his question, then he looks away, knowing that you’re going to leave would only make him regret in glancing through your eyes—one that always understood him well, turns out to be just not too different, “You’re going to betray me, after all.”

And now that he said those words aloud it only dawned on him of the intensity the burden was—how much the truth weighed on his shoulders, just like the several other truths he had kept out of the light ever since your arrival.

His shoulders shook and he cursed at the gods once again.

If only… if only he can replace them, and he’ll never have to suffer like this.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

KAZUHA only got home when it happened.

He left in quite a rush before he sailed off with The Crux, thus leaving you with the argument between the two of you still in the air. And sure, he still did send you letters per usual, the only difference was… you have left him unanswered.

And now that he’s home, he did not know if the sight of the empty house, unopened letters, and the ring left on the counter were something he could have not been surprised with as it was something very expected and reasonable enough.

Feeling stuffy despite the emptiness of the place made him go out and decide to find you. And in his course of doing so, he saw you walking the same way.

“Kazuha… you’re home,” if it were from your displeased tone, he would have already left with the unspoken question answered in his mind. But he stood his ground and made his way towards your form.

“Oh! You found my ring!” You spoke before he can even confront you, and in spite of his surprise upon your actions, upon reaching for your ring, he slips his hands to your waist and wraps your form tightly.

“K-Kazu?” Hearing you stutter even made him more delighted and relieved that his negative thoughts weren’t the reality that he was into.

“I thought you left me… please don’t scare me like that ever again, dove.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

“If you are leaving me, you do not need to slip out your ring, you just have to say it out loud. Proclaim it, even!”

IL DOTTORE watches as you looked at him with a bewildered look, eyes wide open and jaw slack, “W-what? I only-“ only for you to purse your lips shut and look away. If you had wanted to say something else, it already flies away like dust and never to be seen again.

“Fine! I am leaving you! Happy now? Well, you certainly would,” there was a venom in your voice that no one around him dares to even whisper a peep about—only you. Only you get to treat him like this and be left unscathed.

Even now.

Even now as he watches you leave and thinks how much your words were very untrue, he can never really admit it out loud, could he?

Certainly not.

He glances down at the ring that once laid very gently on your finger—on your warm skin, and now rests upon the cold ground.

Certainly… not.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

DILUC had always admired your eyes, your strong gaze that had crumbled the walls on DILUC’s high walls.

“Love…” his hands reached out to you first before you could go and step out, and despite the glare that he received from you, “shall we talk about this first? Please don’t-“ leave me. The words died down as he stared even more into your eyes.

But… you have the right to leave, don’t you?

A voice in his mind told him that he should let go—it was your freedom to break things off with him.

But another voice told him that you were not as unreasonable as that.

Right?

The only problem was which voice he should follow.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CYNO failed to process the circumstance as quickly as the others, but as soon as he did, you have already walked out of the room and he was left standing there, with your ring–the ring that he once gave you and had never seen you took off until now–on the bedside table.

A sting on his fingertips as he reached out for the golden band, traveling through his arms and to his chest, where he certainly felt the pang that made his heart almost ache—why so? What does this ring symbolize that he hates seeing it on your fingers and not on his palm?

However, before he could interrogate you, you came back to the room and looked at him with a raised brow, “Why are you staring at my ring like that?” And was the first one to ask the question instead.

He frowns and asks back, “Why did you take it off?’

You sigh heavily and rub your forehead, closing your eyes in frustration, “I’m not in the mood to argue with you again, Cyno. Can you just… give me my ring back? Please?”

Upon sensing your emotions and realizing the situation he wordlessly went and followed what you said, only to take your hand and carefully slide the ring on one of your fingers, feeling the sense of contentment wash through his chest.

You wanted to stay angry at him for not even perceiving his mistake, but the gentle rub of his thumb on your hand made you want to forget it and let it die down…

For now.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

AYATO was reminded of his oath, the same oath he had declared to you once he had first slipped the ring on your finger.

But seeing you remove it on your own accord made him feel a pang on his chest, almost akin to the one he felt when he first received news of his mother’s death, of his father’s… and now…

He remained silent and for a rare time in his life, he stopped to contemplate. He had always been known for having the mind to make quick but efficient plans, reasons, and words that would not only be able to hide his true intentions but also to force out someone else’s. Being on edge is nothing new to him. Even this relationship was something he had to fight for and survived with his rational mind.

And now, everything crumbles and thaws like thin ice, forcing him in the cold water that he has always been accustomed to but never fully got to soak in. The truth of the inevitable.

Maybe soulmates really were something only her mother and father could have.

Because even if he found you, he couldn’t even make a way to keep you and his oath to you.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALHAITHAM didn’t care about rings at all, not until he had met you and felt the significance of such a thing.

And so, when he saw the ring out of your finger—the same ring that he bought for a ton of Mora that he could have invested on something else but since it was something that your eyes laid upon and brightened over its sight, he still bought it—he knew something had gone wrong.

“Y/n- Sweetheart… let’s talk about this first.”

Of course, he was also thinking about the Mora he spent—only a little… but he also worried what could’ve made oyu possibly react in such a way?

Or is he just… insensitive like you had said? Insensitive enough he could figure out a lot of things but couldn’t figure you out.

Your uniqueness is indeed one of your charms—and his very weakness.

“We shouldn’t break up over this, Y/n-“

“Who said I was breaking up with you?” You bite back, despite accepting the gentle hold of his hand on your wrist.

“Your ring… Why did you- Oh.” He stares dumbfoundead when you began to wipe the band with your clothes and proceed to slip it back.

“What? I wiped it off because I washed my hand.”

“I… I see.” He clears his throat, looking away.

Right. His weakness indeed.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALBEDO would not be as much affected. Of course, he did notice how you took it off and placed it on his laboratory table, before walking off completely. Notice the way your eyes watered and your teeth biting your lower lip in frustration, your heavy breathing and your stifled cries.

He saw them all.

The ring was customary, he had heard it from his colleagues, and indeed, you deserved one—you deserve the best, and he proceeded to give it to you.

But the sight of the ring alone made him realize just how much he had been swallowed by greed. Far too greedy to give you a ring and continue to break his promise nonetheless. Hurting you without meaning to and trapping you in a relationship made of the wholehearted love you give him and the pieces that he decides to give you in return.

ALBEDO wasn’t affected by the ring.

But it did make him realize how much he had affected you.

Reblogs and comments are very appreciated~

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #alhaitham x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #dottore x reader #blue’s works

16K notes · View notes

sunsetsimon · 6 months

Text

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

mentions of ptsd, abuse, torture, touch aversion, nightmares

always remember, you are loved and cared for. reach out if you need help, i am always here to provide resources. you are not alone, do not go through this alone.

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

☼ jealousy. it wasn't a feeling that simon felt often, and not in the ways most people experienced it, he could care less about any materialistic items. his jealousy would stir in his stomach when he saw people doing to them - normal things. a hug goodbye, holding hands, it was all foreign to him.

he's used to a playful punch from soap or a pat on the shoulder from price, but he never initiates. when you first get together, he's uncomfortable with physical affection and will often unintentionally shut you down. your hand will reach for his but he doesn't move, not even noticing you attempting to touch him. he won't hug you before he leaves, only giving a nod and heading out.

he knows it hurts you but it's hard.

slowly he works on it, giving a loving squeeze and reaching for your hand, but it's a long process before it becomes an unconscious habit.

☼ simon doesn't sleep much to begin with, but when it gets bad, he starts to have nightmares almost every night. they're intense, seeming to last forever, as if he'd lived days in the dream. his sleepy mumbling will turn into physical reactions, his body starting to twitch, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turn white. gasping awake he shoots up, his hand immediately on his gun and ready for combat. he's sweaty, heart beating so fast it seemed like it'd jump out of his chest.

"you okay, si?" you whisper from beside him, snapping him back to reality. simon takes a deep breath, setting his pistol back down on the nightstand, unable to speak. immediately you recognize it was another nightmare, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his back. his head drops into his hands, needing to take time to relearn what his reality is; he's home, he's with you.

but fuck, why doesn't it feel that way then? why is he haunted every time he closes his eyes?

"'m so tired," he mumbles, fighting back tears of frustration and pain, trying not to question what he did to deserve this hell he calls his own mind.

"i know si... i wish i could take it all away," you attempt to comfort him, but know that nothing you do could help him right now, he just needs time. he gives your arm a pat before standing up, leaving to take time for himself. you hear his footsteps trail down the stairs and a door open, simon deciding to retreat to the garage for the next few hours until he feels okay again.

☼ he wouldn’t ever tell you what actually happened to him, just making vague comments here and there when the opportunity arises. he's scared to talk about it, not wanting to remember anything or try to process it.

your soft fingers trail along the pale scars littered across his skin, wondering what must've happened to him, all the pain he's been through. you stop at a small one on his left wrist, "how'd you get this one?"

"my dad was a piece of shit," and he leaves it at that. you don't push any further, accepting the curt answer with a nod. you softly kiss the scar, beautiful eyes flickering to his. it's things like this that slowly heal him, and instead of thinking of the pain that came with each scar, he thinks of your lips kissing each one as if that'd make it all better. you make it all better.

#im so sad i love him so much #also on my period so feeling even worse #.wbm #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #angst

1K notes · View notes

itstheghostofmypast · 2 months

Text

Must Be Love

Corporate Worker San x (F)Reader

Summary: Love, is an emotion so deep that once earned, it could change lives. Unfortunately, neither of the two had ever had the opportunity to feel love. Well, maybe he had, but having his heart thrown back at him, made him realise that the corporate world was far too busy, far too bitter and far too cold for a hardworking boy from Namhae- it was about time he accepted the bitter taste of reality.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Warnings: Languages/ Insecurities (majorly of being alone)

Word Count: 21k

Est. Read Time: 1 hr

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Only God and @edenesth know how this was supposed to be a timestamp, that turned into a oneshot that is so long- that I- I swear I don't even know why San has me in a chokehold.

"All I'm saying is that speed dating does work for some people." The brunette claimed entering the elevator with the taller man who shook his head with a pout, pressing the parking button. Sure, speed dating worked for a few people, but those few people were rarely introverts, moreover, he did not have time for love. Love was a luxury he could not afford, especially after his last encounter with the villain, he believed that distancing himself from it would keep him safe, and keep him from hurting.

"Yeah...just not my thing," he mumbled, stepping out onto the concrete floor, their polished shoes scraping against the cement, echoing in the enormous parking lot. Sighing he looked over the fence, frowning at the jam below, "I hate Mondays", muttering to himself he turned to wave off Yeosang who smiled at him, before ducking down to enter his car, lowering the window once the engine was switched on, "I'm just saying San, you can't let her get to you forever."

"See you tomorrow Yeosang." with one final wave his friend drove off, as the man himself, got into his car, buckled up and decided to speed out, it didn't matter anyway, he'd be stuck in traffic but at least it'll be quick, it was already 9 pm, the sooner he could go home, the sooner he'd be in bed, ready to succumb to the solitude and silence at his apartment.

Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, it was already 11 pm. Cursing under his breath he walked out of the elevator, so exhausted, so tired, so done with everything. A constant ringing in his ears only added to the discomfort, as he squinted at the hallway lights. Making his way down his corridor he reached his door until pausing, turning his head to find someone sitting at the door next to his, hugging her knees- was she...crying? All too suddenly the ringing disappeared, the lights around him became much bearable, the dull greys around him morphing into something else- San, stop. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, trying to get her attention, which he only got once he 'fake' coughed.

His curious gaze met with glossy doe eyes, and a tear-stained face stared up at him. Unknown to him, she had just come to the realisation that God really did do people favours, and one of those favours was creating a being like the one standing above her, with a gaze so soft she could almost feel it, his features sharp as a feline and not to mention those shoulders, damn what a beauty. She watched him blink at her slowly before turning around and- oh. He went inside.... wow.

With a snort, she shook her head-that was anti-climactic. Of course, why would anyone even want to deal with her, especially someone like him?

San closed the door behind him, slowly walked over to the console table, and stopped to stare at his reflection, God he looked like a mess, no wonder she was staring at him like that. Running his fingers through his hair, he sleeked back his bangs, trying to calm down his nest of hair before fixing his tie and opening the door to find her in the same place, walking over to her as he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me Ma'am-" he began, pausing when she looked up at him with a frown, man, he wasn't good-looking, but he wasn't that ugly either.

"I lost my key."

"You- what?" quirking a brow he stared at her before looking at the numerous bags and suitcases beside her, how exactly did he not notice these before?

"I moved in today...lost my key and the landlord is out of town," mumbling she hugged her knees tighter looking away from him, frowning at the tiled floor, waiting for something, a backhanded compliment, an insult, a taunt, something to remind her of her ignorance and lack of competence.

Sighing he rubbed his face, before staring at the door, looking at the lock pad, moving closer he stood right beside her, glancing down at her, though she was still staring ahead, frowning like a child put in time out shaking his head he began pressing the numbers on the keypad, resetting the door's lock- knowing this was no longer a used apartment, it had a generic code from number one to five, he was confused why the landlord had decided to not tell her this. On the other hand, this was common knowledge, but then again, he didn't know these things when he started, a fresh graduate with the hopes of stepping into the world with a will to change stuff- that is until the corporate world put him back in his place.

The beeping caught her attention, side eying him, most of her vision just comprised of his pant leg, craning her neck upwards, she met with the gaze of an angel, giving her a small smile as the light behind him glowed in all in angelic mercy. Was he...bipolar?

"I've reset it. Please change the passcode once you settle in."

With that he walked away, leaving her sitting there, grateful yet so confused, his calm demeanour just putting her anxiousness at bay. The soft click of his door brought her back to reality, clearing her throat she stood up, dusting her clothes she made her way to his door, clearing her throat, trying to fix her hair before ringing the doorbell.

San was almost done unbuttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang, as he paused, groaning in disdain the man glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight, what on earth did the world want from him now? Messily buttoning it back up he padded to the door barefoot, his tie hanging around his neck, annoyed at the pestering dinging of the bell as he swung the door open, glaring at whoever was rude enough to ruin his few moments of silence and bliss.

"Th-oh- sorry." she stammered, averting her gaze before bowing and thanking him, mumbling her name and scurrying away through her open door, slamming it shut, her things still outside. He stared at her, what a peculiar woman, what was her problem? Glancing down he realised most of his shirt was still unbuttoned- oh…well technically he was wearing a vest- shit did she think he was weird? A pervert? Great going Choi San. Sighing for the nth time of the night he closed the door, finally deciding to go to bed and forget whatever embarrassing things he had done tonight.

Leaning her ear against the door she weighed for it to close, praying to any entity out there that he did not assume she was weird or a perv. It's not like this was the first time she'd seen a man and technically he was still fully clothed so- God, Jongho was right, she's been single for too long. A good ten minutes later she cracked open the door, leaning out to glance at her neighbour's door, apartment number 404, well then, at least he was gone, she could pull in her stuff without any interruptions.

"You traumatised- no, you harassed a woman," Yeosang mumbled, coat in hand as he entered the elevator, San following in behind, San who was also late today, San who had rushed to work today, forgetting both, his laptop at home and his coat.

"I did not." he sighed, staring at his reflection, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night - or any other of the previous nights for that matter. Usually, when he'd lay down, his body would be exhausted, but an hour in all he'd do was toss and turn restlessly, blanketed by something else, something heavy and blue, at this point he had no clue as to what to do. The room would just end up getting stuffy and within a few hours, he'd slip out of bed, have a cup of coffee, shower, change, try to eat something, anything so he could function and leave like he had a whole eight hours of sleep.

"Should've asked her how she lost the key though." the other man hummed, pressing the buttons of their floors, eying his friend who was now leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed with a pout.

"No."

"No?"

"No, she was already upset, who cares how she lost them." he sighed, straightening up once the door opened, "Didn't feel like adding salt to the wound."

"Aww...my stoic Mr.Choi is so considerate." he teased, patting the back of his friend who rolled his shoulders, before walking out, mumbling a, "I'll just take Mingi's jacket- don't bother coming by!' he turned around swiftly to point at Yeosang, who stood there behind the open doors, waving at him, "Whatever you say...." waiting for the doors too almost close for the punchline, "Perv."

"Will you be going out for lunch today, Sir?" Mingi asked, fingers frozen above the keyboard, peaking through his glasses as he stared at San who was locking the glass door to his office.

"Yeah...want something?" the man turned to look at his secretary - assistant, mind you- who shook his head, "Enjoy your lunch, Sir." with that he went back to typing up the due report - one that was due a day ago, he was just glad San hadn't realised that yet.

Shaking his head San sighed, "Mingi, my man, you gotta stop calling me Sir." stuffing his hands in his pockets he looked around the almost empty floor, "Also, I've submitted the report." his words caused the taller man to freeze, his curious eyes locking with a tired, blank pair, an apology simmering at the tip of his tongue but the man raised his hand to stop him, "Just...tell me next time."

"Yes Sir."

"Creme croissant and a latte, right?" he asked as he began to walk away, being nothing more than a hero- no, an angel, for Song Mingi, oh how he wished everyone had a boss like his. Standing up and bowing a good 90 degrees he kept thanking the man until the elevator doors closed.

Grimacing at the bitter taste of his coffee he walked down the street, frowning at almost everything. The sun was too bright, the birds were too loud, there was too much traffic and lunch hour was packed. Holding onto the paper bag of Mingi's lunch he bit the end of the straw, staring into the windows of the shops he passed by. Why did these people look so happy? Did they not have work? What did they have that he did not?

Too lost in thought he collided with someone, though little damage was done to him, other than dropping Mingi's lunch, his coffee was fine, and so was his shirt. Sighing in relief he turned to look at the person who had ended up on the floor, about to apologise he paused, "Oh...it's you."

Falling on your butt is one of the worse things known to man or woman in her case, truth be told she hadn't seen the man, especially because of the boxes that she was holding, they were heavy and if Jongho didn't think that rock-paper-scissors was not the best solution for any problem, especially when it meant carrying heavy objects, she wouldn’t be here. She was picking up the cups that fell out of the box, luckily the one with the spoons and forks was taped up, mumbling an apology to the person before spotting the soiled package- shit.

"I'm so sorry-" she was cut off by his statement, staring up at him, oh shit. Clearing her throat she nodded before standing up, patting the dust off her clothes and apologising, "I-I'm sorry I didn't see you there. " He was about to say it's okay please stop apologising but before he could she reached for his feet causing him to bounce back only to realise she was reaching for what remained of Mingi's lunch.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'll get you a new one." she said placing it on the boxes and trying to pick them up, though he reached for them before she could, picking them up, "Please stop apologising. It's alright, you don't have to," he said as he looked at her from over the boxes. Wow, he makes the boxes look small, what else can he pick up?

"No, please you don't have to help me, I can carry them." she said trying to reach for them but he shook his head, nodding in the opposite direction, "Where were headed?"

"LET ME MAKE YOU LUNCH"

The two stared at each other, her words causing the two to stare at each other before he cleared his throat, averting his gaze and she shook her head trying to explain, "I mean for the one I dropped, I have a cafe- technically it's not open yet but you-you can be the first official nonofficial customer."

"Ah...okay," whispering he turned to look at her again and nodded, following her as she began to speed walk in the direction of his office- oh it was close by? They stopped at a closed shop just a block away, the windows covered with newspapers, including the glass door. Craning his neck back he stared at the name, a giant board of the name - oh it's a cafe? 'Jiyuu'.

Freedom, huh? He followed her inside, only to abruptly stop when she turned around "I can hold it-"

"Just tell me where to keep it,” he asked before walking towards the dusty counter, placing the boxes on it and turning to her but she zoomed into the kitchen mumbling, a 'Please stay here, I'll be right back'.

He stood there, idle, hands in his pockets, staring around the semi-decorated place, wasn't shabby, and wasn't over the top modern as well. It was close to his work too, maybe he'd try the coffee here. Speaking of coffee, how did a simple cafe owner- one that was still closed- afford an apartment like his? Someone cleared their throat, earning his attention.

"Here you go," she mumbled, "Sorry again." handing him the paper bag- it was bigger than the one he had for Mingi.

"Thank you." nodding at her he pouted, "I told you, it's okay." with that the two stood there, awkwardly standing, staring at anything but each other, the hustle and bustle of outside muffled through the newspaper-covered glass windows, the golden glow just adding to the calm atmosphere. He hadn't felt like this in a while he had not been able to hear his thoughts in a good while, it bothered him, the slow atmosphere, there was no rush, and even time had a pace of its own. A melancholic serenity, he was slowly beginning to enjoy until his phone rang, causing him to jerk back to reality, only to realise she was busy unboxing, when did she move away? Did she just let him stand there, staring at the wall?

"I- thanks again." clearing his throat he nodded at her, earning a gentle smile, "Thank you too." with that he quickly made his exit.

That day, Mingi received more than just a croissant and a latte, he got a whole Danish pastry, a cold coffee and more assorted baked items- No, San did not tell him how he got them, he just told him it was his treat. That day, San had finally witnessed something, felt something so similar that he felt goosebumps, felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand, yet, other than his internal conflict, the world around him was at a pace so strange, one that was slowly pulling him in, something he was deathly afraid of, yet, he welcomed it, just a little bit. That day she finally made a friend, other than Jongho, even if it were comprised of him just being nice to her, she'd accept that, everyone was falling in love, and at least she was no longer falling behind.

A week, it had just been a week since the two had come to know about their existence and he had realised how even though he'd address her with her first name she'd use Mr.Choi. Perhaps she would do so out of respect, or perhaps she was scared of him. Either way, what he did not expect was for her to knock on his door, drenched to the bone, shivering as she tried to give him that usual smile 'Everything is A-okay!'. He could see right through it, and even though he had decided to not meddle in others' affairs, he still somehow found her sitting on his couch, clutching onto a mug of tea, one of his spare towels wrapped around her shoulders.

That is not what baffled him, what truly amazed him was how this strange woman just barged into his apartment, wet as a cat caught in the rain and had brought up a proposition, much similar to the one Yeosang would bring to the table during the yearly board meetings, making San want to strangle him most of the time.

"So, in reality, you want me to drop you off at your place of work and you'll pay me...with coffee?" He asked, watching her sit on his extremely expensive leather couch, sleek black, matching the monochromatic theme of his living room, and her damp clothes were not doing the leather any favours.

"Yes- I mean, No- I mean a coffee and something to eat, whatever you like! I read that business and corporate people love a good brew and I'll be targeting them too so-" she went on and on, playing with the hem of her damp cardigan, but he raised a hand to stop her, her eyes widening at the gesture, oh god, was he going to throw her out? Jongho did tell her that this was a bad idea.

"Why are your clothes wet?"

"O-oh." her face flushed at the question, her gaze flickering to her lap as she cleared her throat, "It started raining on my way back...and I didn't have an umbrella."

"But the forecast.... mentioned it." he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before stopping to glare at her, "Did you not take one or did you forget it at the cafe?" his words were cold, but held some form of warmth to them, though his hard glare softened at her meek response.

"I left it at work, Mr.Choi."

"Go home." was all he said as he stood up and walked over to the main door, turning to catch her staring at him with wide glossy eyes, of course, she wouldn't get the hint, "We leave at sharp 6 am”.

"So... this is just what neighbours do?" Yeosang glanced up from the documents, of course San had blocked the funds for the marketing department, this man's sulking was affecting his work ethic too- by work ethic, he meant how he was holding Yeosang's big marketing plans.

"Hmm? Oh yeah...I guess, why?" he asked still reading through the other proposals, not really thinking about it or her. Honestly, he had assumed she would've tapped out within a week, though this past month he was impressed by her persistence. Some days he'd just step foot outside to find her standing in front of her own door, holding onto her handbag, only to smile at him. How on earth was she able to pull off the heart-stopping smile early in the morning? He still didn't know how, he'd just nod silently, sometimes mumbling a good morning, but his lips wouldn't quirk up the slightest.

She'd followed him silently, usually not speaking unless spoken to, but he could sense that she had many stories to tell, but perhaps his heart was already too full, sinking into this blue and her stories and words would just ruin any chances he'd have to stay afloat. Hence, they'd only exchange pleasantries when he'd see fit, but he'd thank her, every time he'd drop her and she'd ask him to stay for a minute, only to run inside with her things and come back running with a coffee and a paper bag. Each day it would comprise of something new, and she'd just say it's her trying new recipes, though she never made the coffee, it was made by him, someone named Jongho, he didn't know much about Jongho, only that he played a vital role in her life- so she had someone too, even if potential. And for once he was glad to have kept his walls up high as he had, though this silent pitter patter of his heart, from every time she'd smile at him annoyed him, every time she whispered before closing the door, " Have a good day, Mr.Choi", it just made the pound of flesh in him shiver with an unwanted excitement.

"San?"

"Huh?"

Clicking his tongue, Yeosang leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he scanned the man across the table. His shirts were pressed to the crisp, his usual four-in-hand tie knot, now a full-blown Windsor knot, he'd brought back the waistcoat as well, a choice that was long discarded and his hair, gelled back to perfection—definitely just neighbours.

"What~" he whined, slumping against the chair, almost like a child throwing a fit, a side only Yeosang would see, usually he'd mock him, but he knew San got like this when he was bound by one of his man internally conflicts, which is why he chose to keep the observation to himself and nod at the clock, "Your neighbour must be waiting, it’s almost time."

"What- oh yeah." nodding he quickly grabbed his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder, almost out the door before he stopped and turned around, "Yeo?"

"Hmmm?"

"Re-evaluate and send in the budget again."

"F*ck you, Choi."

"So..." she asked, looking around the interior of his car, "Nice car." Must've cost a lot is what she wanted to say next, but knowing him, he would've asked her to get out at that very moment- incorrect, Choi San couldn't even glare at her properly, let alone tell her to walk home.

"Thank you..." he mumbled, driving onto the main road, not really knowing how to continue the conversation, Yeosang would've made fun of him, telling him he couldn't even do 'small talk', but it's not like he had much in common with her, other than working near each other and living in the same building, on the same floor.

"I uh...thank you for dropping me home." she tried to push onto the subject, maybe he'd talk to her if she pestered him, that's how she had gotten Jongho to become her friend- not the best tactic, but it had worked once, why wouldn't it again?

"No problem." his responses were short, again, not out of malice, he just didn't know what to say to her, with his sister, it usually comprised of him being a baby to her or her bossing him around but that was different, they were siblings, they could argue about stupid things and get over it, but with her- she was...different, she was soft, she was sensitive and delicate, like a butterfly on a flower. Though she'd be one of those he'd avoid, not wanting to fall into its beauty and grace, too distracted to take note of the world around him. No longer was he willing to fall, or at least imagine to do so.

Parking the car he cleared his throat, waiting for her to move, but he was greeted by silence. What the hell- he turned to find her asleep, hugging her purse close, leaning against the door.

If this was extremely dangerous and careless of her, he might have found it cute- why on earth- HOW COULD SHE JUST FALL ASLEEP LIKE THIS? What does he do? Does he tap her shoulder? Shake her? Wouldn't that be touching her without consent? Should he call her by her name? Yes, he should, and with that intention he had turned to her once more, only to notice the small frown etched on her features, she looked.... tired.

Jerking awake she sat up properly, blowing the hair out of her face, blinking around, where- was she in the car? Whipping her head to look at the driver's seat she found him sitting there, tying away on his phone, his hair a bit dishevelled but everything else was pristine about him, as it was in the morning. His face was illuminated by the blue light, only accentuating his sharp features, to this day she wondered how someone like him would even bother talking to her.

"Good morning" he turned to look at her, catching her mid-stare, as she choked on her words, about to blurt out an apology but he cut her off, "Don't apologise, it’s something I did by choice, anyway, I got through with most of my emails for the day now so that's good. " He locked his phone before finally switching off the car- he was wasting gas for her? "Did you rest well?"

She could only nod at his question, as he got out and closed the door, she clumsily followed after clutching onto her things as he made his way to the elevator, locking the car, the beep echoing across the parking lot.

He held the doors open for her, waiting for her to run in as she placed her handbag down, turning to him with a pout, only to be met by a frown- was he angry? Of course, he was, but he did say he stated by choice so why did he-

"Do you realise how dangerous that was? Falling asleep in someone else's car?" his words were direct, cold to the brim, "It's extremely foolish. Just because we know each other doesn't mean you can do that! We're just neighbours, nothing more and even if we are carpooling this isn't safe. Would you do the same in an Uber or a bus? Do you realise this is just carelessness? It's just not how you live in the city or elsewhere for that matter-" he spat, turning to meet her with an intense glare, only to lock eyes with a misty pair, pausing when she dipped her head, "I'm sorry, I know. "

"I-I'll be careful next time. Mr.Choi." whispered, her fingers gripping the leather of her bag, he was right, they were just neighbours, nothing more, nothing less, more importantly, this formal arrangement of carpooling was only temporary, maybe she should just take the bus from now on. Jongho was wrong, she wasn't mature enough for this, and she couldn't do this on her own, her fiancé was right, she was childish and clumsy, a little girl living in a fool's paradise at best, too used to being a daddy's little princess.

San watched her walk out of the elevator, though he was too petrified to say anything, his own reaction had confused him. Why was he so upset? He was the one who let her sleep? It wasn't like him to raise his voice like this, especially at someone he would compare to a butterfly. What was wrong with him? He was never this bitter. Just like that, he watched her walk into her apartment, the soft click signalling her to lock it. No, he did not receive the usual "Goodnight Mr.Choi."

But then again, did he deserve it? With a heavy sigh, he closed the door, staring at his empty apartment, feeling...guilty? Well, he did just...it wasn't wrong but...groaning in defeat he turned around and walked out of his apartment slamming the door shut behind him.

Pushing up her glasses she frowned at the screen, what kind of schedule was this, all the buses left before sunrise, way before San would even leave, and they’d leave later as well. In addition to those issues, the bus wouldn’t drop or pick her up near the café, the bus stops were around five blocks away from the shop. Groaning she slammed the lid shut, what if she just walked every morning? Maybe she shouldn’t have moved here, leaving her comfort zone, forcing Jongho along with her- he was a fool, he’d always had too much faith in her and that had always been the problem. At this point, she had once again wasted her parents’ money and potentially risked Jongho’s life savings too.

With a heavy sigh, she picked up the laptop and placed it on her desk before coming back to bed, laying back down as she stared up at the ceiling, letting her sullen thoughts lull her to sleep. Only to sit awake when the doorbell rang, looking around her room before it rang again, groaning she laid back down and covered her ears, waiting for it to stop. And it did, much to her pleasure, only the next thing to ring was her phone, she slammed her hand around for it and picked it up without checking the ID, “Jongho I swear if you’re calling me because you have a new brew idea, I’ll stab you with a spork.”

For a second she was met with silence, causing her to pull back and squint at the caller ID, before gasping and pressing it against her ear, “Mr.Choi I’m so so-“

“Sorry? Mhmmm…I know, so am I, please open the door so I can do so formally.”

That night, was the first time she had received a formal apology from a corporate worker, one with a proper 90-degree bow, followed by a soft apology. She opened the door to find him standing there tall before doing so, standing back up and showing her a bag, “I hope you like Chinese takeout.”

“I do.” With that she moved to the side, thanking God that she had cleaned her apartment the day before, asking him to make himself comfortable as she set the table. That night Choi San finally decided to learn a bit about her, not too much, he didn’t want to get involved in anything other than carpooling, this dinner was just a mere apology for his sudden outburst anyway. He looked around the lounge, the comfortable sofa was different from his, well most of this place was, it had colour, little trinkets that represented who she was, by the window were some succulents, but there was no television to be found, weird.

Once the table was set the two began to eat quietly, that is until she began, “You didn’t have to get dinner Mr Choi, and it's too much-

“I did.” He cut her off, clearing his throat to continue, “I…my outburst was uncalled for, I know it may seem confusing, but I wasn’t upset that you fell asleep, I was …concerned for your safety, I know you just moved here…but I…” he trailed off, especially at the way she was looking at him, like a kid staring at superman, he felt small under her intense stare, no, he wasn’t who she thought he was, he was no saint, he was no saviour, he was no one special. Shaking off the feeling, he mumbled, trying to change the topic, “Why did you move here anyway?” This was a bad move, he had asked something personal, he should’ve just asked her how he liked it here or how was work going, this question just meant that the answer would get him inside for her life, insight, he perhaps could function without.

Unfortunately, after a few stories in he was hooked, the finance director was up till midnight, not because of his work, no, because one story led to another and he listened intently, letting her do all the talking, perhaps because he wanted her to feel as if she was heard, or perhaps her story sparked some form of joy.

"Lee Soohyuk?" he choked on his lettuce wrap, thanking her when she handed him a can of soda. Gulping it down before clearing his throat as he looked at her, watching her clean her side of the table with a tissue, she was done eating. Or was she not eating in front of him?

"The...the famous corporate lawyer? Damn, I've seen him...once? Twice I think." he blinked at her, noting how she had gone quiet before he gave her a small smile, "He's not that smart you know...he was also wrong."

"What?" she paused her cleaning session to look at him, "He wasn't though, he was right Mr.Choi, I'll always be my parent's little princess, I can't even function alone, I dragged Jongho in this and lord forgive how his dad invested in med school for him and he ended up becoming a barista because of me- I couldn’t even afford a place of my own- I'm still living in an apartment owned by my parents!" slamming her hands on the table she glared at the food, "He was right, I was useless and immature then, I'm equally useless now, other than Jongho now I depend on you - which I won't I promise I'm looking for a solution but the schedule and drop points are so chaotic and-" her words caught up in her throat, being pushed down by a sob as she slumped back in her chair, pressing her palms over her eyes, no crying, crying is for the weak, for those who are spoiled, for those who give up. Too busy trying to think of what breathing exercises Jongho had taught her, she didn't know when he had come to her, until he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze causing him to peak up at him.

"Well, I don't know what you were like before...but...I won't say you're useless...Mingi was born here but he still rides his cycle here, and lives with a flatmate," pulling his hand away leaning against the table, stuffing his hands in his pockets- too much skinship is bad- "I... have you ever like managed your resources? Like do you have a plan? An agenda or something?"

Shaking her head she wiped her eyes, sniffing like a little girl who got scolded, "I- I thought of buying this apartment from them....and then...then...I don’t know."

Nodding San smiled at her, "So you do have a plan. You just need some help figuring it out." reaching over for a tissue he plucked some out of the box before handing them to her, "Let's get your priorities organised first. Make a payment plan or something like that, your business started off well, which means you know how to work that out, you just need help in the...other stuff. Take a leap of faith."

"What if I... fall?"

'Then I'll catch you'.

This is what he had wanted to say that night but chose to smile at her, telling her people learn from their mistakes, no matter how small. Fortunately, she had made a friend that day, one who would guide her through, one who also told her to forget about the bus schedule and that they'd still carpool. Unfortunately for him, he might have stepped into a boundary he was desperately trying to avoid. Either way, Friday night dinners slowly became a tradition, a place of dining alternating, a Friday at his and a Friday at hers- something that when he told Yeosang, all the prince-ly man did was stare at him before leaving the office without another word, ignoring San yelling at him,

"WE'RE ONLY NEIHBOURS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?? YAH KANG YEOSANG!"

Cursing to himself he ran down the stairs, Yeosang's laugh echoing around the staircase, "It's not like you're late for a date!" he yelled only for San to turn and glare at him, stopping dead in his tracks, "I'm late to pick her up from work."

"Ah yes, because her being there makes traffic jams a bit more bearable!" he yelled from the end of the staircase laughing when San flipped him off while driving by.

She stood there, leaning against the ceramic pot, the guard didn't let her in, saying she had to mention who she was here to see and even though she had said Mr.Choi, she really didn't know which department he worked in, which is why she was asked to wait outside.

So, here she was, standing in the middle of the rain with her umbrella, staring at the cars zooming past her, the security guard inside the glass cabin giving her an apologetic smile once in a while.

Sighing she looked at her shoes, the pavement not doing much to stop the water from sliding onto the road. The pavement was getting busier too, most people just got free and as much as she loved the city, she wondered, at any given moment alone if this was a risk worth taking. A slight shove from a passerby had her stumble a few steps forward, stopping right at the edge of the pavement, not even a sorry was thrown in her direction.

She turned to glare at the woman running away in heels before a honk caught her attention, turning to spot the familiar car as it slowed down, the door opening for her as the driver moved back onto his seat, quickly she got in, making sure to close her umbrella and shove a plastic bag around it ungracefully, turning to smile at the driver, "hi-"

"Why are you here?" he spat, frowning at her before flicking on his blinker, "It's raining and I said I'll pick you up no? I didn't say you'd pick me up from work."

Sighing she shook her head, "Sorry Mr.Choi." She said that a lot, more often than either would like, it would make his heart clench every time and Yeosang would call him a bastard every time he'd mention this to him in his daily narratives.

"I- what I mean is...I was a bit late so I texted you, you didn't have to come all the way here and stand in the rain out on the street." his words softer than before, as he stopped at a traffic light, glancing at her from the rear-view mirror, watching her pout.

"I- my phone died...so I didn't know and, I was waiting but then when you didn't come...I was worried...about you so I came here and- "She was worried about him, something within him pulled at his heart, she was waiting for him? But before the feeling could settle in, her usual nonstop chatter began, shaking him out of his fever dream, "What's your department by the way, they wouldn't let me in! Said there were so many Chois! Did you know that!?? I mean Jongho is a Choi too, and then there Choi Minho- he's cute, I like him, I like Shinee...do you?"

"I...." unsure of which question to answer first he frowned before he began to drive shaking his head at her, "I’m the director of the finance department." he sighed earning a chuckle, side-eying her only for her to stop and clear her throat. He nodded at her, ignoring her first half of the statement, though the latter portion had the tips of his turning red.

"Sorry, that would just explain your expensive taste, Mr.Choi...would explain the Windsor knot too."

She stood in front of his door, checking the time once more, it was almost seven and his car was still in the parking lot. Yes, she had run down the flight of stairs to check if he was still there. She had called him too but his phone was switched off so she did the next best thing, called Jongho.

"JONGHO-"

"It's seven- no, wait- listen your monstrosity it’s not even seven yet, what do you WANT." He yelled, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear, whining an apology.

"Mr.Choi won’t answer my calls or open the door what do I do??"

"My poor baby." he cooed at her in a taunting manner, "maybe you finally did to him what the pressure his job couldn’t."

"What? What do you mean?" she asked before deciding to take matters into her own hands.

"Corporate pressure was nothing compared to you, I'm sure he's at peace now-"

"OH, SCREW YOU, I'M IN." with that, she hung up, entered his apartment and marched towards his room- the only place in his apartment she hadn't seen. Knocking on his bedroom door she slowly peeked in, only to be met by a room filled with clothes lying around, the curtains drawn close and the heater on full blast. Stepping in, careful not to step on the clothes she walked over to a heap of blankets on the bed, resting her hand on it as she gently shook it, "Mr.Choi."

The lack of movement just had her worrying even more, as she leaned closer pressing her ear against the cotton, hearing his laboured breathing, shaking her head she announced, "Mr.Choi, I'm gonna pull these off!" with that she ripped off the two- no three quilts he was cocooned in earning a gasp as he quickly sat up, hugging himself shivering in cold sweat.

He stared at her with surprised eyes, "W-what are you- shit, what time is it?"

"Forget what about the time, you're burning up." pressing her palm over her sweaty, warm forehead she frowned, taking in his flushed face, pushing his hair back so she could take a better look at him, then glanced down at his ...sweaters.

"How many layers...."

"I was cold." he whined, closing his eyes when she carded her fingers through his hair, trying to fix his hair, basically pushing it out of his face, "Of course you are...I'm going to get you something to drink...probably do something else about the fever. You take off your ...layers until then, okay?" she asked tugging at his sweater, earning yet another uncharacteristic whine - or maybe this is who he really was, she was just used to him acting all strong and mighty.

"Okay," he mumbled before reaching for the blanket again only to slap his hand away. Pulling his hand away with a gasp he gave her an offended, traumatised look.

"No." was all she said before going over to turn off the heater and opening the window to let out the stuffiness, "I'll be back in ten minutes and I better see those off you, understood?"

Wow, since when did she become all assertive? He thought to himself but only nodded at her instructions, it had been a while since someone had actually put in the effort to take care of him. This is what a good neighbour would do right? He'd take care of her too, right? He had already helped her make a payment plan that she was using to buy off the apartment her parents owned, he had met Jongho too, a nice but horrible fellow, but one that could push her and keep her on track, much like San he believed in her, claiming that

'If they didn't get her engaged with a man six years older than her, she would've had time to grow. Soohyuk wasn't bad but he was 26 and she was 20, he had a set plan, and she didn't even know what she wanted to major in- I don't blame either of them, marriage isn't a business transaction.

He watched her leave the room, glancing at the handbag on his side table, he'd seen her grow though, a few more months and the apartment would be hers, plus the cafe was getting good traffic so there was no real issue there. Though Jongho did threaten him, reminding him of how influential she was even if she wasn't on her parent's payroll anymore, any funny business would mean his career was over.

Slowly he began to take off the layers just doing what she had asked then falling face forward on the pillow, listening to the clinking of the pots and pans.

She arrived back to him with a tray in hand, for a busy man she always marvelled over how clean his kitchen was, but then again he did remind her now and then how cleaning was a good way to destress. Starting at the sweaters on the floor, the ones he had discarded because of her instructions- guessed the cleaning was only limited to the kitchen.

Shaking her head as she made her way through the maze of blankets and clothes, she placed the tray on his side table, slowly pushing her bag off the table. Sliced fruit and lots of water, followed by some Advil. He wasn't shivering anymore, so that was good, "Mr.Choi!" Turning to him she smiled, "Have some break...fast-" Good lord that some back, like that, was...wow.

"What?" pushing up on his hands he turned his head to look at her only for her to cover her face, with her hands squeaking, "WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES?"

Scoffing he sat up, his headache just adding to his bratty attitude, "Because you yelled at me too and I'm still wearing my pants." Why was she being like this, she was so mean, she even left the window open, he was so cold, his neck and shoulders hurt and it was all because of that damn window, "My shoulders are killing me because of the window you left open too!"

"I-" Lowering her hands she looked at him, sitting on his knees, staring at her with a pout, what a man-child.

"First of all, sit properly, and eat, have the medicine it'll help with the pain and" Bending down she picked up a discarded shirt, handed it to him, "Window stays open or you take a cold shower."

That was all it took for the big boy to sit there, eating his sliced apples, which were never-ending, until he realised, she was slicing up even more, and an Advil later he began to come back to his senses, clearing his throat as he tried to roll his shoulders to ease the discomfort, which ended up being futile.

"I'm sorry for not informing you, I think I switched off my phone after sending in my sick leave." sighing he leaned back against the pillows, shaking his head when she was about to cut another apple, "Please. I'm full."

With a pout, followed by a suspicious glance she nodded, placing the fruit back down and taking his empty plate off his lap. Leaning closer she pressed her hand on his forehead, he was still warm but it was better than before mumbling, "It's alright, Jongho can handle stuff better than me anyway."

Letting out a soft chuckle, his fingers gripped her wrists gently, pulling her hand away from his skin, "That's funny, I remember him telling me how he desperately needs you to deal with all the customers and manage stuff," he whispered, only then realising how close the two were to each other, with her leaning on the bed, her knee pressing onto the mattress next to his leg, "I can see that you really can."

"I..." averting her gaze she mumbled a thank you before asking, "How's the pain?" slowly pulling away as she sat back down, but his fingers still held onto her, though he didn't notice, he was holding onto her, as if she was grounding him to reality, or some form of happiness that he did not want to let go, at least not now. She however noticed this new profound clinginess and she'd be lying if she were to say she didn't like it, this feeling of being wanted, of being important and valued.

"Hurts." pouting he leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes like that would turn off the headache, his thumb mindlessly caressing her skin, "Shouldn't have picked up those stupid weights...Jongho did this on purpose."

"JONGHO?"

His grip tightened when he winced at her tone, shooting her glare for which she quickly apologised, before pestering him, glad she was wearing pants as she pulled her hand away and moved closer to him, standing on her knees on the bed beside him, gripping his shoulders, "Mr.Choi, please tell me. What has he told you?"

"N-nothing." he cleared his throat, trying to scoot away but her grip on his shoulders tightened, fingers digging into the muscle, causing him to let out an involuntary moan before she completely pulled away, "I- I’m sorry did that hurt."

Groaning he hunched over, shaking his head, "No, no, it felt good...sorry." Rubbing his neck, he looked at her, taking in her flushed features before sighing, "I uh...Jongho and I go to the gym together...he asked because he wanted to go too, I already go there with a friend from work...don't worry your secrets are safe with him."

Nodding at his statement she stood up and moved pointing at the chair she was sitting on, "Sit."

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her, narrowing his eyes, glaring at her, almost playfully. Taking a few moments for her to get all nervous causing her to clear her throat, "I- I mean I can massage your shoulders, I- Jongho uses this oil, uses me like a free massage person too for his neck and-"

Raising his hand, he stopped her, slowly getting off the bed with a groaning sitting down as instructed before glancing at her, "Just don't strangle me, okay? He did mention how you have the death grip of a man."

If she weren't too distracted by the sight of him following her orders, she would've jumped down the window. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the oil out of her bag, yes, she carried that around in case Jongho pulled something like the old man he was.

Once she began working on his neck, fingers pressing into the knots he bit his lip, trying to hold in the sounds that were about to burst through, if this was the privilege Jongho got for being her best friend, he'd sign up too.

For about ten minutes she went on with her usual routine, only to stop when his head fell back against her belly, going limp her hold- Oh. He had fallen asleep. She stood there, holding onto his slouching form, taking in his relaxed features. She hadn't seen him this relaxed before, he almost looked...too cute. Speaking of cute, she had learned many things about him today, from how he was actually just as whiny as he pretended not to be, to how he ate almost 5 apples before stopping, she did notice how his fridge was mostly empty other than having eggs, and leftover take out. Maybe they should have more dinners together, maybe she could cook actual homemade food for him.

Slowly helping him up, he drowsily mumbled something before falling onto the bed, as she tucked him in. Glancing at the time she sighed, she'd spent most of the day here, giving him one more look she reached for his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, "Rest well Mr.Choi."

The next morning San woke up better than ever, he knew the fatigue was getting to him but he didn't stop, he probably had forgotten how to stop. That would explain why he fell sick, but who knew he lived right next door to an angel? What surprised him more was how his entire room was clean, all his clothes were neatly folded and stacked in one place, blankets folded at the edge of his bed and the water bottles no longer littered around. She really didn't have to do so much.

Picking up his phone he checked his messages, opening hers first before Yeosang's or Mingi's

'Hope you're better now Mr Choi. Advil is on the console and I restocked your apples. Don't worry, I went to work myself today, like a big girl. You get some rest.'

Smiling at her message he leaned against the pillow, yeah, this is exactly what neighbours do.

"A car?"

"Yes, a car." he sighed, turning the laptop to her, "You can get one on loan, I can fix you up with a good payment plan." he smiled at her, only to frown at the way she was frowning at her lap, "What's...wrong?"

"I- No I- thank you, it really does mean a lot." she cleared her throat, trying to control her expression, he was tired of her, he had to be, "I just...are you- I mean if you feel our routine is taxing then-"

Shaking his head he closed the laptop, turning fully to face her own couch, she was sitting on his very expensive couch, crushing the very expensive cushion in her lap, but it was okay, because it was her, and this time, the after work hours, a few hours before would fall asleep had become their time, where she would go on and on about stuff, only for him to add in a few bits- not because he wasn't interested but because he wanted her to speak, he wanted her to be heard, that and he was still too afraid that if she were to find out he was but from a simple background, from a small town like Namhae, she might never come back here. He wanted to watch her grow, he wanted to watch her business grow and bloom into what she had dreamt for it to be, he wanted to help her and this was a way of helping her.

"It's not...taxing. But...you need to" Pausing to take a moment to think, he noticed how her nails were digging into the leather, shaking that thought away he sighed, "You need to be independent, I'm not saying we change our routine, but you should lax yours, you don't have to leave at 6 am every morning and you don't need to come back home at around 8 or 9. Like you couldn't go when I was sick and then took the bus." he paused, taking in her appearance, only to find her pouting at the TV - yes, he had her buy a TV too because he refused to believe watching stuff on your laptop was better than the TV, though just like every other day she'd come over and watch his TV instead saying it's boring to watch TV alone. Reaching for the remote he paused the movie, to get her to only focus on him, having her look at him, "Like I was saying, a car can help you fix that and what if you need to collect your packaging or go buy fresh produce from the farmer's market? You can't always take a cab, it's not safe- you're earning well enough, I'm not saying buy one because of me, I'm saying buy one because it's your need, you shouldn't depend on anyone, not even me."

Clearing his throat, he met her soft, warm eyes, watching her stare at him intently, before blinking slowly at looking at the laptop, her grip on the cushion loosened,

"I like...the red one."

"A car? I- is this 4-year plan? SAN NO." Yeosang stared at the spreadsheet before turning to San who was calmly sipping on his warm cup of coffee, the logo bright enough for Yeosang to roll his eyes, "Listen, lover boy, I get your head over heels for her, but this is a stupid idea, four years with the same car, four years and she's still paying it off- what if she wants to change the car??"

"Yeosang, she's not big on change, and four years max, the payment plan is flexible in terms of quotas she can pay, knowing Jongho he’ll make her pay it all off within two years maximum." he said as he placed his cup down, leaning against his swivel chair, earning another groan from the man across the table, "Man, just buy her a car then."

"No."

"WHY NOT"

"Because she has to learn."

"And you need to grow a pair, big enough to tell her you like her."

"I don't like her." he sighed rolling closer to his desk to turn on his laptop, eying Yeosang who looked at the papers once more, "No, you do not like her...you convinced her to buy a car, made an entire payment plan for her and told her the initial deposit fee was waved off even though YOU paid it- you don't like her my friend," standing up the marketing director walked to the door of the office, turning to glance at his friend with one final smirk before leaving, "You're in love with her."

"Jongho, can you get me more napkins?" she called out to the man who was busy singing in the kitchen, at this point she could just ask him to get himself recorded, she was sure Hongjoong wouldn’t say no to either of them. Rush hour was about to start and for that, she needed to prepare, even if the business was booming, they were still short-staffed, and Jongho’s lack of people skills was dragging the interview session longer than she had anticipated. Though she was partially to blame, she was often too preoccupied with work and then well… a certain suited man, from the car ride home to the apartment, to dinner. They had begun to have dinner together more frequently, she often cooked as well, the first time she took a homecooked dish to his place he almost cried at dinner, excusing himself to go to the kitchen for more ‘napkins’, though from the faint sniffing from the kitchen and how long he took there had her believing her suspicions were right, once he looked at her with puffy eyes. Though she never said anything, smiling at him like she always did, for once feeling as if she wasn’t falling behind, cupid could walk right by her and she wouldn’t mind, her heart was already on a platter for someone else, she was just waiting for him to realise this little fact. So, she too, was too busy to even go through the files, but one of these days she’ll definitely get back to it.

The little chime of the bell had her look up from the counter, smiling at the customer only to almost drop to her knees at the man who had walked in- no, he was a fairy- could men be fairies? An angel? No, what on earth was this creature, his face holding the same innocence of an angel, but when he spoke, it was as if she heard the grumble of a dragon- damn. Shaking away her thoughts she smiled at him, greeting him as he stepped closer, oh how she loved men in suits- or rather just one man, with the cute Windsor knot, she noticed how he’d changed it from his usual ones.

“I’ll have whatever you like.” He smiled at her, before looking around, “This place new?”

“Yes, Sir, it is, may I ask if you have any allergies?” she asked before punching in a combo number, to which he shook his head.

“Cash or card?”

“What does Mr.Choi use?”

“What?” she froze, looking up from the monitor to meet his smirk, well, that was new, “I’m sorry, what was that sir?”

“I said card.”

With that she quickly swiped his card, asking him to wait for a while until she came to him with his order. Yeosang wanted to tell her who he was, but the way she stared up at him like a school girl caught slipping a note in her crush’s locker forced him to stop himself, she looked almost too innocent to bully like that- perhaps he should leave the teasing for San instead.

You should've gotten the latest model." the man stormed into his friend's room, earning a look of surprise, leaning right to spot his secretary raise his hands in defence, Mingi was always so useless at times like this. "Dude, in a meeting." he sighed gesturing at the muted call, only for Yeosang to snort, roll his eyes and sit down cross-legged across the man, sipping on a cup of coffee, "I cannot believe you let someone like that wait in the rain for you," he mumbled as soon as San joined the call once more, back to business.

"What-" he looked up from the screen to glare at the brunette pausing at the cup, oh, "Oh you went- "Of course, I WENT- I had to check her out okay and I- you really are a d*ck, she isn't slow-witted at all, she's just cute. That's how girls are, not that you'd know you simpleton." "San your mic isn't muted" They heard a chuckle only for him to panic and Yeosang to choke on his coffee, both men apologising to their boss who just laughed it off- luckily the meeting was being held during the break, which meant this conversation could happen since they were off the clock for a while.

Much like any other day off, San had decided to do his basic house chores, and since his neighbour now had her own car, he didn’t need to worry about that today which was good, because he really did need to clean up. With the trash bag in hand, he walked out of his apartment, only to stop and stare at the figure hunched over by the elevator, what the- oh wait what?

Jogging over to her he tapped her shoulder, “Are you okay?” placing the back down he crouched down to get a better look at her face, only to frown at her pained expression, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, just came back from the doc’s.” she sighed before slowly straightening back up, giving him a faulty smile, “All’s good Mr.Choi….cleaning day today?” she mumbled, changing the topic as she made her way to her apartment, not really giving him any time to answer.

She was almost in bed when she heard the front door beep open, man, she shouldn't have shared the passcode. Nonetheless, she walked back out to find him standing there in her hallway, frowning at her before marching towards her, "What happened? Why were you at the doctor's?"

"I'm fine, just a bit sick I-" pausing her eyes clenched shut, whimpering as she held onto her stomach, trying to breathe out the pain.

"That's it, we're going to get you checked again." he declared, grabbing her wrist before she snatched it away, "NO! Leave me alone." He blinked at her, taking in the sudden outburst, somewhat offended, did he overstep a boundary? Scanning her pale face he noticed the way her lower lip trembled, was she...going to cry?

"Please..."

That was all it took for Choi San to leave, not forcing her for anything. If she wanted to be alone, fine, she'd be alone, but she didn't need to yell at him like that, and then cry, that just confused him. Maybe she was offended that he came in even though she clearly tried to avoid him, but...they'd usually just walk into each other's apartments like that, that wasn't new. His phone ringing was what had him stop the brooding session, picking up the call,

"Hey."

"You need to help your stupid neighbour."

"I...well she told me she wanted to be alone Jongho, I think she's sick but won't go to the doctor," San mumbled, a bit too desperately.

"That..." he could practically see Jongho roll his eyes at him, "Because it's that time of the month."

"What time of the month?"

"Choi San, do you have a sister?"

"Yeah, why?"

".... she on her period man- look, I called you because we cancelled all the interviews for a new hire today but this one moron won't listen and I know he's going to go to her place so you gotta tell her."

"WAIT WHAT- she was in so much pain though." no wonder she wanted him to leave, no wonder she yelled at him and then began crying.

"Mhmmm...kay bye".

"JONGHO WAIT-" he looked at the phone and sighed, this man just wanted him to lose his mind, nothing else. He'd do this to him often, even at the gym. Like when he'd be lifting weights, that one time when San accidentally dropped a dumbell on his foot when Jongho casually told him, "Did you know she's in guys with nice butts, and apparently when I stare at a lady with a nice butt for a while, she calls me a pervert." Or the time he almost lost his footing on the treadmill while running, Jongho who was casually standing next to him, staring at his reflection through the mirror, "Glad she hasn't seen your arms, she has a thing for being put in a WWE style headlock." yet, here he was telling her that her secrets were safe with Jongho.

She felt someone tap her shoulder, her soul almost left her body, her scream muffled by his palm as he held her down, "It's me, it's me..." he whispered, pulling away slowly as she sat up, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it, repeatedly, "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!"

Clicking his tongue, he snatched it out of her hand and glared at her, though he wasn't angry, his annoyed expression just confused her even more when he pointed at a brown paper bag he had placed beside her. His face flushed as he averted his gaze, clearing his throat, "Jongho said...someone's coming for an interview. This has...stuff for you...I don't know what you particularly use, so I got...most of it."

"What do you mean, I cancelled the interviews and what did you bring for me-"

The doorbell cut her off, her eyes widening in disbelief, no, did Jongho really give her address? She was fighting with the blanket, trying to get it off her when he stopped her, gently pushing her back to lay down, "It's fine...I'll interview him."

He was about to leave but she gripped his wrist, "No, Mr.Choi it's fine, you've done more than enough-"

"You took care of me last time." he smiled at her before taking something out of the paper, "Now let me take care of you." placed the item in her lap he rolled his eyes when the bell rang again, leaving the room.

What in the name of everything did Jongho tell him? She looked at the chocolate bar, it was her favourite, and she had only mentioned it once, oh my god, did he know she was on her period? Snatching the bag from the edge of the bed she turned it over, its contents falling all over the place. Good grief.... this man...he had gotten her every product he could find. Napkins, tampons, he even bought her heating pads, and other pain medicine, by the time she was done counting the things he had gotten her she was already crying, ugly sobbing at best.

San went to the door, opening it to be greeted by a man with sharp eyes. Technically, his overall appearance was sharp, from his features to his suit- was he really wearing a suit? The only thing about him that seemed remotely soft was his hair, though he looked like a fresh graduate so why apply to a cafe, that too one that was a new seed in the market?

"Good afternoon. Is Ms.L/N here? My name is Jung Wooyoung, I had an interview appointment with her-"

"At the cafe but they were cancelled." San cut him off, leaning against the door as he tried to stare down the shorter man.

Wooyoung stared at the man in sleeveless sweatpants, who was he? Husband? Boyfriend? Some annoying friend? He could pick a fight with him, but then he needed this job, really did.

Clearing his throat, he nodded, before bowing, "I apologise for the intrusion but I thought my eagerness may have a positive impact."

San stared at him, the perfect 90°, he'd seen that before, many times, he'd been there before too. He knew the feeling, the anxiety and dread that accompanied it, the desperation to finally achieve something. Finally, put the years and money spent on education to use.

"It's...fine, come in."

That's how Wooyoung found himself sitting on a brightly coloured couch, looking around, though he saw no signs of masculinity anywhere, so her boyfriend didn't live with her. He knew his way around the place though. Who was going to interview him though?

San walked out of the kitchen with a tray of tea, placing it on the coffee table as Wooyoung thanked him, getting up to take his mug. No, everything was too feminine so does this mean- what if this dude was a serial killer? Oh my god!?! Did he KILL HER AND IS NOW GOING TO KILL HIM? IS THIS COFFEE POISONED?? Slowly bringing the mug to his nose, sniffing it.

San raised a brow at him, what on earth was this psycho doing? He was about to ask when they heard something crash, instantly getting up he turned to leave, pausing for a moment to loom at Wooyoung, "I'll be right back, please stay here."

Oh my gosh, he was a killer! Wait, she was still alive! He could help her? What should he do? Think Wooyoung, think! Standing up he walked down the same path he did, peaking through the door left ajar.

San frowned as he picked her up, ignoring her whines, "What exactly were you doing?" he asked walking over to the bed, holding her in his arms as she covered her flushed face with her hands mumbling "The clock stopped working."

"Seriously?" quirking a brow at her he stopped walking, looking at her then at the bed, stuff scattered across it, files, pens and her laptop, "Didn't I tell you to rest?"

"I was but then I heard Mr.Jung and I wanted to read his file," she explained, leaning against his chest, mentally noting how he was holding onto her like she weighed lighter than a feather.

He clicked his tongue in protest, about to talk about how he'd handle it but the door burst open, a Mr.Jung stomping in, holding an umbrella in hand, "UNHAND HER YOU PERVERT!"

She flinched when the door slammed open, squeaking as she hugged him close, burying her face in his shirt, arms wrapped around his neck, curling into him as if he'd protect her. On the other hand, San stood there rooted at the spot, at first he was confused as to what Wooyoung was even doing until he noticed the faux bravery morph into some form of fear, his panic setting in.

Wooyoung stood there, umbrella in the air, taking in the sight before him, a man carrying a woman bridal style...oh shit they were together. Please did he Wooyoung himself again?

"I am so sorry Miss-"

"It's alright." she cleared her throat, never in her life did she think she'd interview someone whilst being in her pyjamas, the little hearts printed on her shirt and pants. Next to her San sat at a good distance, his face as red as the pot of a plant near the window, intently staring at the coffee table, not even listening to the two converse- he wasn't carrying her around for fun! He was just helping her! She fell off the stool because of the stupid clock and- and her back hurt so his brain just...picking her up was easier and-

"Mr.Choi?"

"Hmm?" instantly turning to her, he regretted it as quick, taking in her soft gaze, almost wanting to crumble at the feet, shit, this wasn't good.

"I said I should hire Mr.Jung, right?"

"Uh...I guess?" he mumbled, discreetly glaring at Wooyoung when she began reading his credentials too, they were good, but managing to be a distinguished student in the country's best culinary school wasn't easy.

"I- I'm sorry for intruding Sir." he cleared his throat, if he had to kiss this man's pointy polished shoes to get this job he would, "I should've known you're her boyfriend, it was a lack of better judgement on my part." He paused to look up at him, only to find the man before him malfunctioning, then glancing at the woman who looked like she was swooning, almost awake inside a dream.

"We're just neighbours!" he blurted out, not liking how Wooyoung's neutral expressions morphed into the sassiest, most judgemental look of 'Nah, I don't think so', as he hunched over the table to take a better look at the two.

"I live next doo-"

"You're hired Mr.Jung, I'll see you tomorrow at work!"

"Wow, that's...kinda regret not being there to see it." Jongho hummed, taking out an apron and tossing it to Wooyoung who cleared his throat, "I mean, I didn't intend to make things awkward."

"Sure man." was all Jongho said before patting him on the back, "But until she comes back to work, you're on counter duty, kitchen is off limits." with that he walked away, leaving the new employee to sigh in defeat, looking around at the empty cafe. Considering she was 'still sick' she'd left Jongho in charge but that man was too busy not interacting with customers and staying hidden in the kitchen, occasionally singing out loud- at least he could sing.

He stared through the glass doors, looking at the people passing by, everyone with a purpose, yet, here he was still trying to find his purpose.

The doors opened and someone walked in, phone pressed onto his ear, his coat neatly folded in half, hanging off his other forearm, the buttons of his waistcoat fighting for their lives when the man heaved out a heavy sigh, "No Mingi, the report is supposed to be sent to Mr Park from the IT department, Park Seonghwa, send it to him and get back to me." A frown was permanently etched onto his face, brows knitted together as he pulled his phone off his ear and stuffed it in his pocket, only froze when he looked at Wooyoung.

The two just stood there staring at each other for a good ten seconds before Wooyoung cleared his throat and greeted him, "We can pretend nothing happened Mr.Choi."

Scratching his neck the businessman nodded, licking his lips out of embarrassment, "Yeah...sure"

"So, what can I get you, unfortunately, the menu still comprises of the usual since I'm not allowed in the kitchen till the boss lady comes." His professionalism impressed San, honestly, he did think the guy couldn't pull it off but he was glad he wasn't mentioning yesterday at all.

"Oh umm... Jongho knows I called him-"

"Yes, yes, no need to wet your expensive pants Mr.Choi." the kitchen door opened as Jongho walked out with two giant paper bags, San's eyes scanning the change of printing, somewhat proud she took his suggestion on investing in merchandise printing.

"Here's your usual, one for Princess Mingi and the other princess who lives next door." Placing the bags on the counter he smirked at the man, who cleared his throat, trying not to look at Wooyoung whose resting b*tchface was back, comprised of the look which San easily read, 'Nice to see a clown clowning himself.'

"So, aren't corporate breaks supposed to be like...40 minutes long?" Jongho asked, leaning against the counter as he sighed, "You gonna hurry there and back or you gonna eat with her-"

"I- she has to give paperwork for you that's why she called me, I had a half day anyway." He mumbled, quickly taking out his card that Wooyoung slowly took from him, side-eying the man, who was still mumbling excuses, though all Wooyoung could hear was "We're just neighbours".

Of course, they were just neighbours.

Shit. Of all the times his car decided to throw a tantrum, it was now. Not only did he leave work late but it was raining, so now, Choi San sat in his car staring at the empty highway, the streetlights his only companion. Clicking his tongue, he tried to switch on the engine again, trying to press on the gas, only for the vehicle to whine in refusal. Sighing he gripped the wheel, resting his forehead against it, sighing at the coolness of the leather. What could he do? Get a cab? No, no cabs would be around right now. Call Yeosang? No, he lived in the opposite direction, he would come to help him, but he knew the man had a presentation due tomorrow. He could…call her. He didn’t want to though; things had become a bit…awkward.

Truth be told he didn’t really want to admit it, but after the Wooyoung incident, he tried to pretend nothing happened and to his amazement, she did too, their routine was as normal as ever, conversations would flow easily, though she’d still do most of the talking. Until one particular Friday night when they were having dinner at her place, she told him she wouldn’t be carpooling anymore because she had finally gotten used to driving and needed to go to other places. Although he was proud, his smile indicating his happiness and joy to see her bloom into a beautiful flower, a nostalgic and heavy blue began to spread in his chest, weighing down on his appetite, as he slowly put down the fork, pushing the plate ever so gently and discreetly, looking at her intently when she began to show him the route she’d take to the market, asking him if it was good or if there was another route. Unfortunately, was too busy looking at her to even care, to even give an honest opinion, she was glowing that night, and he could bask in her warmth forever, but there was no such thing as forever, he knew that happy endings were nonsense, especially when it came down to him. So, after that night, he had slowly begun to distance himself, making sure to leave before she’d wake up and come back later than usual, texting would just comprise of him sending one-liner responses, and he’d even cancelled some of their dinners together saying he had to stay in the office late. Yeosang had asked him a few times about her, but all he’d say was that she was busy and he didn’t want to interfere- that was true though, it was he who helped her out with all the planning and the financial agenda, it was him who supported her endlessly, who pulled her back up to her feet when she’d be close to giving up- but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch her fly away from the front row seats, no, he’d rather see his swan take flight with grace and elegance from the sidelines, he’d be there, he’d always be there, but like her shadow, after all, he too was afraid of being hurt, he couldn’t handle it, not again, after all, they were just neighbours.

A tap on the window had him jerking back into sitting properly, blinking away the blurriness he turned to the window, eyes widening at the figure outside before lowering the window, “What are you-

“Need a ride?” she smiled, trying to conceal any other emotion bubbling within her, her grip on the umbrella tightening when she noticed his frown, not responding to her question, though she could see the questions swirling in his eyes, possibly at the tip of his tongue, but she knew he’d never ask, just keep them in, let them simmer into something else, probably guilt…or anger.

“I had to do a complete inventory check today so I closed up late. Was driving by and I saw your car…” gesturing towards her own car that was parked in front of his, the hazards blinking in the rain.

“My car…broke down.” He mumbled, before reaching for his bag and nodding at her, letting her move back before coming out of the car, waiting for the rain to pour down on his already defeated parade, but that didn’t happen, for she had extended her arm to full height, tilting forward so he was covered by it, letting the water splash onto her head instead. There she went again, worrying about him, trying to rip open the bag he was gripping onto tight, not wanting anything to spill out.

Patting the droplets off her she pulled out a few tissues and dried her hands. He sat next to her, buckled up, laptop bag on his lap, even though she had told him to put it on the backseat but he refused, holding onto it like a child throwing a tantrum. They’d been driving silently for a while, the only sound between them was of the rain slapping against her little red card.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” she asked, trying not to speed on the slippery highway, the rain had worsened, who knew a light shower was going to turn into a full-blown storm? The problem wasn’t the rain in general but visibility was becoming an issue, well, there was this third party between them, a form of invisible wall that was keeping the two apart, or rather he was being pulled away, while she just held onto him, trying to pull him back to her, though ever so slowly she could sense that he was letting go of her hand.

He never responded to her question, just continuing with the silent treatment. Sighing out of frustration she flicked the left blinker before slowly parking across the yellow line at the side of the road, before them the road was barely visible, she thought he’d question but he didn’t he wasn’t stupid, even though he didn’t want to be here, stuck in the same space as her, too afraid he’d blurt out all he had hidden, he knew even if he took the wheel instead of her, he couldn’t see through the rain. So, the two sat in silence, as if the other wasn’t there, one of the most awkward the two had been with each other like they were strangers all over again. That is until she finally decided to take matters into her own hands,

“Are you…upset with me?”

He looked up from his lap to her, a small pout present on his lips before shaking his head and turning back to stare at his lap.

“Do you…not want to be friends with me anymore?” she knew these questions were somewhat pointless, in the time they had spent together she had learned one thing, that he was rarely bothered by her, in fact sometimes he’d go out of his way to make her feel better, make her feel safer, so what bothered her was not knowing what had he pulling away like this. She thought as she’d grown more independent, he’d be happy, proud of her progress, not this.

“No.”

Was all he said, not even bothering to look at her, instead choosing to take out his phone, maybe he could just check on work or- he couldn’t though, because she snatched it out of his hand. His head whipped in her direction, and a glare followed, “Give it back.” He spat only for her to shake her head and shove it in the pocket of her, shaking her head.

“I said give it back. I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.” Groaning he leaned closer to her, trying to reach for her pocket but she slapped his hand off his pocket, only for him to grip her wrist, trying to hold his anger at bay.

“Not until you tell me why you hate me!” she yelled tugging her wrist out of his grasp.

“I DON’T HATE YOU!” he yelled back, turning to her completely, his laptop bag falling off his lap, God this car for so small, he barely had leg room!

“THEN WHY ARE YOU PULLING AWAY!”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND AND WATCH WHILE YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND!”

“I- she froze at his words, the weight of the statement settling in around them. Letting out a sigh he turned around, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to control his breathing, trying to stop his thoughts from running around, pushing and shoving every emotion he had buried in below. For a moment he even thought of stepping out in the rain to cool down, but the gentle grip of his shoulder stopped him.

“Mr.Choi please I would never leave you behind, I-

“Oh, stop it, would you.” He scoffed, brushing her hand off his shoulder, “I’ve known you for what? Six, seven months now and you still don’t call me by my first name, I- I literally use your name and you’re so impersonal that –

“I don’t know your first name.”

Once again, they were greeted with silence, at this point the sound of the rain was the only thing keeping the two from exploding at one another, a series of bottled-up feelings, emotions that were untouched for so long, that the layer of dust on them had turned into a sheet of sand, one that had obscured rationality and logic.

“What” Taking in a deep breath he began, “What do you mean?”

Rolling her eyes at him she huffed, “Because you never told me, not once, since the day I met you the only way I found out your last name too was because the security guard greets you as Mr.Choi, and he did that the first next you dropped me home.” Taking the phone out of her pocket she placed it on the dashboard in front of him, “I don’t know why you think I’d leave you; I now own the apartment next to you thanks to you, I have dinner with you almost every other day, I let you carry me around when I’m tired, I cook meals for you not because I am obligated but because I want to, I- I ask you for help all the time with the full confidence that you’ll never say no”, pausing she looked at the road, the rain had slowed, much like the whirlpool of unkempt emotions that were stirring between them, “ and if you haven’t realised by now, I’m not very big on change. So, no, Mr.Choi, I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”

“San” he whispered, staring at the road ahead, much like her, too afraid to even look at her, who knew all it would take was a confession like that to calm him down, put his worries to rest, untying the bag he had knotted up so well after he had his broken heart handed back to him.

“Nice to meet you San.” Was all she said before starting the car, now driving home, after the much fearsome, prolonged storm. No other words were exchanged, but unlike before, the silence was no longer awkward or heavy, it was pleasant, a new kind of pleasant, one that oddly enough he was welcoming.

The ride up the elevator was no different, the two were walking casually like nothing had happened, though San knew something had happened, and for some reason, the bitter-sweet reality of it made him want something more to happen, he was only looking for the right moment for it to happen.

She was about to enter her apartment when he called her out, causing her to turn around and almost bump into him, when had he come so close?

“I don’t want to be just neighbours anymore.”

Facing him properly she nodded looking up at him, “I see, then what do you want?”

“I…” averting his gaze he thought for a moment, wondering if he could jump into it, or take caution and slowly see where it goes, though the little critter in his chest was begging him to let loose, his rationality projected by his fears had him second-guessing almost every micro decision he had come up with in these seconds, “I…want…more?”

“Then,” pursing her lips together she narrowed her eyes at him, moving closer to see if he’d move back, but he didn’t, he stood there, staring at her intently, shy yet so curious, she’d barely ever seen him like this before, her lips curving into a smile, “Let’s take it slow?”

He nodded a bit too eagerly at her question, earning a chuckle from her, as she turned around and pointed inside, “Dinner? Though it’s late, I can make us something light?” He had followed her inside that night, somewhat nervous about starting a new chapter in his life, yet, excited like a little boy about to win a race.

“Mr.Choi, there’s uhh…there’s someone here to meet you?” Mingi’s voice blared out of the speaker causing San to stop typing, frowning at the time, it was 11 am he had no meetings for the day, so why would someone just pop up, Yeosang was on leave today as well so- the door opened and he could hear Mingi calling someone out, “Miss! Wait Mr.Choi hasn’t allowed you to-

“It's…fine Mingi.” He nodded at his assistant, before his eyes locked with her, her smile radiant as ever, as she coly made her way to his desk, “Hi San.” ‘San’, she’d been using his name more often now, all night even at dinner, she’d somehow slip it in every sentence and he’d somehow slip into that gooey pool of mush every time his name would roll off her tongue.

“You- you had a day off today, right? Do you want to spend time together, I-“ he stood up, quickly trying to clean his desk though she placed something on the empty corner of the glass table, “I just came to drop off your lunch San, I made special cookies today, and if you like them, we’ll introduce them, Wooyoung even decided a name for them.”

“Oh?” he asked, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the lunch boxes, a well-fed boy was a happy boy and he was so glad she’d feed him well, even when they were ‘just neighbours’. So, knowing she was still doing that, only adding onto the perk by coming to him and surprising him at work had something within him strangling his heart in joy, “What’s the name?”

“Well…initially it was something I wanted to talk to you about if you’d be okay if I call you that, but then he said we could name them after that, but I feel like only I should be allowed to call you that.” She cleared her throat looking around his spacious office, she never thought his office would be this big or high up for the matter, not a day went by where this man didn’t amaze him.

He stopped opening the boxes to look up at her, “What do you want to call me?”

“Sannie.”

Things had been great, well, somewhat, although they were ‘no longer neighbours’, there was still no official label and it confused San how she was alright with that. Sure, they’d spend more time together now, she’d drop by sometimes before lunch just to drop off his lunch, but he was still San at work, and only Sannie when the two were alone. Moreover, they’d never really been…physical. Not that he didn’t want to ‘do the deed’ or something- well, technically- no he did but, this isn’t what he meant, he knew they were taking it slow, but sometimes, he’d feel the affectionate Sannie resurface and it would take everything in his power to hold him back. What if she wasn’t into that? What if she thought he was clingy overbearing or too sensitive? Would she think he’s coming on too strong if he asked ‘what they were’?

“Sannie?” she asked, poking his shoulder, “You aren’t eating, don’t like the food or the movie?” Placing her plate on the coffee table she paused the film when he didn’t look at her, “Sannie…you gotta talk to me about these things, I can’t read your mind-

“Would you like to start a business venture with me?” In front of him was not her Sannie or San, no, turning to face her with a hard face and honest eyes was a man sitting up straight, hands pressed against his knees, it was Mr.Choi.

“Umm…I…like a collaboration?”

“Yes, of sorts.”

“I…I mean I don’t really need Jongho’s permission it is just my business.”

“It is.”

“I guess…but don’t you already have a job, San?” was he planning on quitting?

“I do, but this venture is more important, I prefer it over my job.”

“Sannie, my café is doing good, but quitting your job for it, especially at the designation you’re at it’s not logical-

“Be my girlfriend”, he yelled in frustration, cutting her off before meekly averting his gaze, “Please…”

“I…” she took a minute to think before scooting closer to him, his fingers digging into the material of his pants, though when she placed her hands over his, he visibly relaxed, “I just love how you’re so uptight Mr.Choi.”

She smiled, but he only frowned at that, why would she call him by his last name? Did he do anything to upset her? Was he perhaps moving too quickly for her liking? Or should he have been more romantic- actually this wasn’t really romantic at all, he can’t believe he just did that, he should’ve thought this through, he should’ve planned properly, it had only been a month and –

His brain switched off because of the sudden pressure on his lips, hands automatically reaching to hold onto the source, she was…kissing him? His eyes closed when she slowly moved closer, helping her onto his lap as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, taking charge, until she slowly pushed him back, his back pressing against the sofa, eyes flickering open to meet her flushed face, a small smile gracing her lips, he had smudged her lipstick- nice.

“Do I…take that as a yes?” he sighed, body completely relaxed, his hands giving her waist a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know, maybe we should seal the deal again?”

His chuckle echoed across the room, film and food long forgotten, the only thing he could focus on was her, and slowly, he began to feel as if the gates he was trying to keep closed were merely inches away from bursting open.

“We need to talk.”

“Um…okay, why are you slowly letting go of the weights- Jongho, Jongho, buddy, stop.” He wheezed, looking up at his spotter who was glaring down at him, “How serious are you?” he asked lifting the weights ever so slightly.

“FOR STAYING ALIVE, PRETTY SERIOUS- JONGHO!” he gasped when the man almost let go of the weight.

“Should we…stop them?” Wooyoung asked, yes, he too had become their newest addition to their gym buddies’ group, Yeosang who was walking on the treadmill beside him shrugged, “I don’t think so, this is between them, plus knowing San took a year just to confess to her, even though he was treating her like he was her boyfriend, I believe Jongho has every right to harass him.”

“I’m serious.” Jongho warned, glaring at the man who was not only turning blue but was now drenched in cold sweat, shaking his head and pleading out an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

“I mean her, I’ve had to pick up the pieces once and I let it go because the guy wasn’t directly involved, but you- you son of a- you have her sitting at the café daydreaming about what you’d like to eat at night. You have her calling me at night asking me what shirt you’d think she looks best in? Would you prefer her in pants or a skirt- you have her working her ass off to make you proud and so help me God if you ever even think of hurting her-

Before he could finish his monologue San threw the weights off him, heaving as he stood up, wiping the drool off his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up straight, his breathing heavy as he looked directly at Jongho, “Never. Do that. Again. And I may be a slow-witted loser but I am no abuser- and her” he turned to look at the hoodie on the opposite bench, a blue hoodie, there was nothing special about the hoodie, but the fact that it was the first ever gift she had given him, telling him she had a matching one, so they could wear it together at home, “I don’t even think I spend a single moment of my pathetic life where I can’t be thinking about her.”

By now Yeosang and Wooyoung had gotten off the treadmills and were standing on standby just in case things escalated, but San’s confession had them staring at him in awe. Well, Wooyoung was just glad that the clown had stopped clowning himself, but Yeosang, no, he was thrilled if not glad that San had finally accepted to let himself be happy once more, he had allowed himself to love once more- even if this was just the first stage, even if they were still going through their awkward relationship stages, he was just glad to know that things were getting better for San.

Jongho looked at him before nodding, then turning to point at the weights, “Throwing gym equipment is stupid, no wonder people like you who make so much money are careless.” Clicking his tongue at him he picked up his duffle bag, “Anyway, Shakespeare, Imma hit the showers, don’t forget she’s making you pasta tonight, so you better hurry up.” He left San standing there, letting his own speech process, slowly the seed had begun to germinate and deep down he knew, he was counting on it to turn into a field, one she could run around in, laughing with joy.

Sighing she slowly pulled away from him, being extremely careful of two things; firstly, to not wake him up and secondly to not cause any harm to his sheets. She didn’t want to stay at his place tonight, she even told him no because he had an early meeting tomorrow, and she was on her… period, so to sleep over with her new boyfriend and possibly leak on his pristine white sheets was not on the agenda, that and the fact that the cramps were hitting hard and her back was probably broken just made it more difficult for her to find the perfect position.

So, that’s how she found herself sitting on his couch, hoping to God that the pain medicine would start working soon, or maybe it could take a few hours and San could get a good night’s rest and by the time he’s about to wake up, she’d slip right back in and-

“Are you okay?”

“SHIT” throwing a cushion at him she whined, especially when it hit him square in the face, causing him to stumble back, pouting at her, “What did I do?”

“I’m sorry, Sannie, I- I’m fine I promise, I just couldn’t sleep and your sheets are clean and-

“Yes, I am aware my sheets are clean, so you don’t have to worry-

“That’s why I am worried,” she sighed only for it to turn into a groan as she hugged herself, trying to ease the pain. Oh, he looked at her, he’d seen this before, he knew what had happened, “Do you think I’ll find it weird if you…I mean…It's normal if it happens right?”

“It's gross.” She mumbled only for him to sigh and slowly reach for her arm, “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked as if it was completely normal, umm…it wasn’t technically? He’d just carry her around when she’d refuse to do something or when he was in his playful Sannie mood- which was often only behind closed doors when the suit didn’t define him.

“nO” Quickly getting up she motioned for him to walk first, “Why-“

“JUST DO IT” she yelled only for him to quickly turn around and head towards his bedroom, no need to piss off his girlfriend during that time of the month. Huffing out in frustration she ‘readjusted’ her pants, trying to reposition the horrid excuse of a lady diaper, no, she did not want him to see this scene, it was not even remotely attractive.

Sighing she laid down next to him, what she had forgotten was how much this man loved physical affection because as soon as she turned to face him, he pulled her closer, her face pressing into his neck as he rested his chin on top of her head, an arm under her head acting as his pillow and the other one securely wrapped around her waist. Now she needed to stay still, especially when she heard him snore, he had fallen asleep so quickly, of course, he was tired, the guilt slowly settling in. She really should have gone home tonight.

Her body jerked when a sharp pain shot across her lower half, her fingers gripping his shirt as she held her breath, trying to restrict extra movements. At this point she could just wither away in pain, waiting for the meds to work before she wakes him up and he throws her out for not letting him get a decent night’s sleep.

For a few moments, her little movements continued until he abruptly pulled away and wordlessly sat up, to reach for something on his nightstand, probably his phone- man, she should really apologise and leave now, but before she could make her way off the bed he turned around and stood on his knees, slowly pushing her to lay on her front, “Umm…San?”

“Your back hurts, right?” he mumbled, gently lifting her shirt to reveal some of the skin, “I hope this helps, my sister recommended it.” With that he began to rub the ointment on her lower back, trying to mimic the similar motions she’d use while working on his neck or shoulders from time to time- yes, he had finally obtained that perk. He only stopped when she completely relaxed under his touch, smiling when he realised, she was asleep, gently pulling her shirt back down he got off the bed, tucking her in, making sure to place a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the bedside. Little did she know that she had been in pain all night and not just a few minutes, she dozed off sometime in between only to wake up in pain again, though he had slept through most of it peacefully, which is why when he woke up, feeling her shiver in pain, he realised getting up a few minutes before his alarm rang wouldn’t be so bad, he could use the time to help her out, so while reaching for the ointment he had also shut off his alarm, knowing he wouldn’t be going to sleep once he helped her out.

“Ignoring you?” he asked, wiping another cup and handing it to her as she stacked it on the rack with a pout, “Well, not ignoring, he’s just…gone quiet like he’s giving me the silent treatment.” She explained, looking to see if Jongho, who was brooming was listening to them, only to find him staring at her, “Oh I don’t know maybe he’s upset about the fact that your ex-fiancé came here since you invited him?”

“Wait- WAIT WHAT?” Wooyoung gasped, turning to Jongho who nodded, “Soohyuk wanted to see her, and she won’t tell me why, she called him here and ironically he and San had entered at the same time, and instead of introducing him to Soohyuk she just talked to him and ignored San.”

“Man, I’m never gonna take an off again, so much drama in one day.” Was all Wooyoung had said, yet the poor boy got smacked with a tissue, before watching her stomp out of the café, leaving the two men staring at her confused.

“Umm…do we stop her?”

“Nah…” was all Jongho said, the only reason he even knew about this issue was because the moment he had seen Soohyuk enter he knew something was up, what he didn’t expect was for her to go to him instead of San, and ironically, she didn’t even introduce San, which confused him even more. The moment he had looked at the other man, he noticed the way his eyes had gone blank, void of any emotion, yet he could see the one hiding behind his eyes, he knew what he was thinking, one of the many things San had confessed to him about- once the two had become official and Jongho would keep tabs on him- was his fear of being left behind, knowing that one day, eventually everyone would leave him, even her. So, yes, when she had walked past the finance director like he was a mere stranger, he knew this would trigger San, he just didn’t know in which direction the river would flow.

A knock on the door caused the two to look up, Yeosang just sighed, “At this point, you should just fire Mingi.” Shaking his head at his friend San called out to the person, permitting them to enter, usually with the glass walls and door he could see who was on the other side, but for the past two days the blinds were lowered, concealing whatever was happening inside his office, much like whatever was happening inside his heart. The door opened to reveal someone he had been avoiding for the past few days, though he never said anything to make her leave.

Yeosang looked at San’s expression morph into displeasure, turning in his seat to find the man’s significant other standing there, quickly standing up he smiled at her, greeting her before excusing himself.

Honestly, she was surprised by Yeosang’s reaction, she thought he’d be upset with her, Jongho was upset with her and considering Yeosang and San were good friends, she presumed that San might’ve just told him about the issue, though maybe he didn’t or maybe he did and Yeosang is just very good at pretending.

“You could’ve called.” Was all he had said until he found her standing right next to him, her hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair, turning his swivel chair to face her, his eyes widening at the proximity, they were still at his workplace, what if someone barged in? What if Mingi came in?

“I can’t fall behind, I’m tired of falling behind.” She said leaning closer, not to kiss him, but to make sure he was still looking at her, she needed him to understand her perspective, needed him to understand her insecurities, “He knows about you.”

Scoffing in retaliation he leaned closer and hissed, “I don’t care if he does,” eyes scanning her face for any hint or gesture of insincerity, but he couldn’t see it, or perhaps his foolish heart had convinced him once more, deceiving him into making him believe she was his.

“Then why are you upset?” her hands let go of the chair, reaching for his, but he pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the chair as he stared up at her, “Falling behind? What do you mean by that, was this all a race or competition where you were trying to win him ba-

“Choose your words carefully Mr.Choi.” she cut him off, words seething with anger.

“Because they’re true?” coking his head to the side he noticed the way her hands were fisted at her sides, nails digging into her palms, “Tell me.”

“I…” letting out a shaky breath she looked at her shoes, no longer having the confidence to look at his face, “I couldn’t let him…I didn’t know what he was…going to say…I can’t lose you; I didn’t want to…he came to apologise…nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t want you to meet someone who never saw me the way you see me, what if you realised…that it wasn’t worth it anymore more…that it was a waste of time.” Walking over to the chair at the other end of the table she sat down, eyeing all his paperwork, “I…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I can’t hold you back just because I’m left behind all the time.”

He watched her intently, listening to each word, slowly realising what she meant, but he also came to another realisation, they were still walking on eggshells, especially around each other, choosing not to show their greys to each other, choosing to leave out the bad parts of the story, the poorly written scenes and the abrupt jump cuts, yet, this form of false perfection was what was making it worse for them, worse for him, especially when he knew that he no longer liked her. He no longer felt the same attraction- he felt more.

He was in love with her.

Turning to face her, he took a deep breath, his hands on the table, slowly reaching over to hold hers, his thumbs running soothing circles over her hands, “I…I was…I…I don’t want you to leave me too. Before you, there was someone else.” He felt her go tense under his words, his eyes flickered to hers, noticing the settling anxiety, before he gave her a gentle smile, “Was…don’t worry, she didn’t want my heart anymore and I…I guess I didn’t want to give it to anyone anymore either. Until you came along, crying outside because you lost the key to your own apartment…I swear I was going to ignore you and leave, but…” Letting out a dry chuckle he glanced at the clock, she often did come by when it was lunch, maybe he’d take her somewhere special today, far from the office and the café, “I couldn’t, and I don’t know how…maybe because you were so patient with me, maybe I saw myself in you, I wanted to make sure you had someone to help you whenever you’d fall…but I was also scared that if I gave you my heart, you’d give it back and…f*ck Yeosang was right.” He sighed, giving up on where this was going, trying to pull his hands back but her grip tightened, causing him to look at her in surprise.

“He was…but I like it…I like that you’re a romantic, Sannie.” She smiled lacing their fingers together, “I won’t force you…but I need you to understand that I…I fell in love with you the day you unlocked my door for me… I just waited for the day you’d return the feelings…so yeah, I’ll confess, that I’ve loved you from the start.”

His eyes widened at the confession, face turning pink at the realisation, this must be love. The feeling that was brewing inside of him, ready to burst, this must be love. His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, he wanted to run to her and pull her close, almost engulfing her whole being, but his legs felt like jelly, this must be love. Though he didn’t need to get up, because she had come to him, smiling down at him as she cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, he looked up at her through hooded eyes, enjoying the warmth, welcoming this nostalgic sensation, this must be love.

“I love you.” He whispered, hands gripping her waist, fingers digging into her, holding onto her as if he were afraid, she’d disappear.

“It’s about time you realise.” Letting out a chuckle she leaned closer, brushing her lips over hers, about to say something when they heard a static sniff followed by a sob, both of them freezing in act.

“Mingi…how long have you been there for?”

“I forgot to tell you your mic was on…sir.”

“Couple’s activities?” he mumbled, staring up from his book, his reading glasses at the tip of his nose as his girlfriend at the edge of the bed, legs crossed with a magazine in her lap, successfully stealing yet another one of his hoodies. The glow of the lamp illuminated her innocent features, though he knew behind those sparkly eyes hid some agenda that he would soon regret, even though he loved her with all his heart, he had realised long before that being an only child meant that her parents had always kept her busy, books, movies, school, other activities, even got her a Jongho- now that Jongho had completely passed her onto him, it was his job to entertain his princess in the late hours of the night.

“So…like se-

“No, you pervert- my God, all men are the same.” She huffed picking up the magazine to show him the list on the glossy, extremely bright coloured paper, the glare of the lamp just making it more difficult for him to read, “That’s a long list- I’m not going skydiving- YOU AREN’T either.”

“Sheesh, fine, but we can try cutting your hair.”

His hand instinctively went to his luxurious onyx locks, he liked his hair the way it was, and he knew she did too, from how she’d run her fingers through it when they’d be lazing around, from how she’d play with his hair when he’d lay on her lap for a little nap, from how she’d tug and pull on it when they’d be…

“Just a trim!” she broke his chain of thoughts, crawling to him and slapping the magazine on his lap, “You said you needed a trim! And- and it’ll be free!” she smiled, giving him the cutest face she could muster, though he stared back at unamused.

“No.”

“I- but- Sannie,” whining she pointed at the small text, “It’s so intimate and it’s- it’s all about trust.” Grabbing his arm she shook him violently, he almost missed the early stages of their relationship, where she was still shy and nervous around him, now she’d gained the confidence to be bratty around him, even demanding they sleep at his place because ‘You have a bigger bathtub’, incorrect, he didn’t but maybe she just liked using his shampoo- not that he’d mind, he preferred her smelling like she belonged to him, his scent carrying around her.

“How about a free massage as well?”

"There. All done." He finally opened his eyes to stare at his reflection in the mirror, confused at first, then angered, then even a bit humoured, "Um...what do u think is different with this and my usual haircut?" It was his fault, it really was, he agreed to this nonsense and now…he even fell asleep when she was working on his shoulders, but that was before she cut- no chopped off his beautiful locks.

"I... I mean it's a bit different Sannie but I-" she tried to clarify, smoothening it down, only to flatten it and…perhaps make it a bit worse, see, the thing was, during her little barber role-play, she had realised she’d trimmed a bit too much on one side, so she had to even it out and that led to umm…well

'I look like a POTATO!" her glared at her through the mirror, face red with embarrassment.

"NOOO! U don’t" whining she leaned closer to peck his cheek but he pulled away, whipping his head in her direction to glare at her, then looked at his hair through the mirror again, hands going to pull on the short hair, it was so…short, "Please, I love you, I know you said haircutting is a couple's activity but- babe I"

Hearing a sniff, he stopped staring up at her reflection, he didn't mean for her to cry, but the way she was biting her lower lip tugged at his heart. "I-"

Before he could start a giggle escaped her and he stopped, glaring at her, his face blank like the first time they met, "Ma’am, is something funny?"

"No....Mr.Potato head"

“Good morning Mr.Choi - what's up with this cap" Mingi looked at his boss who zoomed past him into the office, tugging on his baseball cap, slamming the door behind him as he yelled.

"Nothing Mingi, whatever happens, DO NOT let Yeosang in my office today"

"He's already there, sir."

Frowning San turned to meet eyes with a familiar brunette, his chin in his palm as he sat on San’s seat, a little smirk ever so present as he eyed the taller man, all dressed up in a nice suit, the only thing odd about him was the smudged lipstick on his jaw, which he probably didn’t even know was there and the baseball cap.

"Your girlfriend dropped you off huh? Car trouble again?'" Yeosang asked, before pointing at his jaw, “You also got a little something there Mr.Choi, guess the black waistcoat is a fan favourite, huh?”

San quickly made his way to his desk, grabbing the chair the other man was on and rolling it away from his monitor, mumbling as he grabbed a few tissues to wipe off the lipstick, he couldn’t even be mad at her because it was his idea to follow couple’s activity #43 ‘Wear a lipstick shade your partner likes’, apparently, he liked it a bit too much.

After that little entrance, they’d been sitting peacefully, with San working away and Yeosang…well he was just wasting time as usual, though at least he had yet to ask the question.

“So, what’s with the cap”, Yeosang asked as he made an intricate paper plane with another one of San's documents, they were going in the shredder anyway.

The other man, pouted for a split second before clearing his throat, "My head feels cold." continuing typing like he didn't care.

"I see." Yeosang eyed him before throwing the plane at him, watching the pointy nib smack against the man's cap, earning a glare, "So, will you bring her as your plus one to this annual fundraiser? Has she cleared all your tests? Check marks all your boxes of requirements of a partner?"

Sighing he leaned back at the thought, did she? Was she the ideal partner he asked for? Sure, she was somewhat clumsy and bratty, but then again, he wasn't the best either, he was whiney and slow-witted at times but with what they two had been through, how much they had grown, how much she had grown, of course she'd been the one, he had come to this realization when he saw her waiting outside for him in the rain, 'worried about him'.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said eying the man who was too lost in thought as he got up to leave, "By the way she was wrong."

"Hmm?" he frowned at his friend who was dusting off his clothes, "You don't look cute, you do look like Mr Potato head".

“San, I swear upon your Benz, if you turn off the heater, I’ll key your car.” She shivered, pulling another blanket over them as he pushed it off, trying to reach over her for the remote of the heater only to slap his hand away, “YAH CHOI SAN”

“ITS HOT! AND STUFFY! I’M SWEATING LOOK!” he lifted his sweatshirt for- honestly, she really forgot what his point was, a bit too distracted for her own good before he huffed and took it off completely, flinging it across the room, giving her all the blankets and laying on his back, “It’s barely even winter, and look at you. I said don’t go playing in the snow, you can barely withstand a cool breeze, you thought the snow was gonna go easy on you? You’re just like Wooyoung, both of you are the same with the snow and winter.”

“Well, not everyone has the body temperature of an old, grumpy cat, Sannie.” She huffed, scooting closer to him, trying to steal his body heat, the fabric of the quilt making his skin burn.

“OLD?”

“Well, I did call you Mr.Choi out of respect too, I thought you were wayyyyyyyyyyy older than me.” Turning his head on the pillow to look at her, he made a face, rolling his eyes at the innocent smile she gave him, the tip of her nose still pink, shrugging at him. Sighing he moved closer to her, much to her pleasure.

“Take off your pants.”

“You really are an old pervert-

“Couple’s activity #136, you genius.” He huffed manoeuvring so he was under the blankets with her.

“I refuse to accept we’ve done so many.”

“We haven’t, I tore out some pages because I was not going to do couple’s yoga on the balcony.”

“Ah…I see. Anyway, still not going to take off my pants because you’re a bit needy.” She sighed, when he pulled her closer, his body heat helping her shivering body calm down.

“Well, aren’t you just an innocent peach, activity 136 says sharing body warmth is important and intimate, you can use me as a human heater and I can use you like a cooling pack.” He said tugging at the band of her pants, helping her out of them, sighing when he felt her cold legs on his warm ones, making the blanket a bit more bearable.

“Who knew Sannie was so thoughtful.” She purred, nuzzling her face in his neck, earning a huff, his arms tightening around her, squeezing her until she let out an airy laugh in protest.

“I am very thoughtful.” He sighed, feeling her relax against him.

“That you are…Mr.Potato head.”

Huffing out in both frustration and bliss she stared up at the ceiling, the warm mood lights in her room, feeling him flopping down beside her, the bed trembling at the act.

“Tub’s filling up. You’re also out of bath bombs”

“Your tub is bigger- how many did you use this time?”

“No. It is not…. around four” He sighed laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling with her, his hands reaching for hers, knuckles brushing against hers before she slowly tangled their fingers together, “Thank you for taking me to your event tonight…I really liked it.”

“Thank you for being my plus one.” He smiled, thinking back to how when anyone and everyone there would ask him who she was he’d introduce her as his girlfriend, the love of his life, someone he potentially wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Though I believe making sure I can’t walk tomorrow is going to be a problem for me at work.”

“Couple’s activity #159.”

“Did it specify tearing my favourite dress?”

“No, but the San in the mirror who used to have nice hair told me to.”

Two years, she had been together with this man for two very happy years, yet he still could confuse her every time he asked her something very important, such as now, right in her café, well, technically she was in the storage closet, counting and restocking when he walked in unannounced.

“Umm…is there no one there to take your order, Sannie?” she asked, looking up at him, using a carton as a makeshift seat, clipboard in her lap, she didn’t even want to do it, but once again, she had lost an epic battle of rock paper scissors from not only Jongho, but Wooyoung as well. The man above her frowned before shaking his head, ever so quiet.

“Okay…was there no one to stop you from coming back here- in an employee-only area.” She asked as he shook his head again, before sitting down beside her on the floor legs crossed, now with the different of elevation, looking up at her with a frown.

“Okay…do you…want to say something?”

“What’s your five-year plan?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves before looking at her, his hands on his knees, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Ummm…well…what does that mean?” she asked, finally giving up on inventory to get on the floor with him, facing him, sitting in a similar position as she looked at him, noticing how he had closed the storage room door after entering, he needed privacy, so this was an important question to him.

“Where do you see yourself in Five years?”

Oh.

Her eyes widened at the question, throat drying up as she looked at anything but his face, he looked so serious, so focused, like what he had asked her was just like a business deal, well, maybe it was- but that wasn’t all it was, she knew what he meant, she knew he’d have his moments of self-doubt, he’d have moments where the crippling anxiety of having his heart smashed into pieces once more had him awake at night, he’d have his moments where he’d begin to fall, having nothing to hold onto- only this time, he had her.

“I see myself as a Mrs.Choi.”

His ears picked up the all-too-familiar name, his lips quirking up at the mention of his name, blushing like a school girl he almost squealed, leaning over to grab her hands and pull her closer, only his lack of judgement of strength had him pulling her onto his lap- or maybe that is what he wanted to do all along. All she knew was that she was merely inches away from him, his small dimpled smile gracing her with all its glory, “I think I see that too.”

“Yeah?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap properly, “You see me as a Mrs.Choi?”

“No.” he smiled, locking his arms behind her waist as he noticed her small pout in confusion, pulling her even closer, until the tips of their noses bumped at the sudden jerk, “I see myself as your Mr.Choi.” His dimples deepened when she gasped, before closing the gap between them, leaving small pecks all over his face, leaving him a flustered, blushing mess as she smothered him with all the love that he had closed himself off to, all the love that was taken from him when his heart was tossed back at him, all the love she had in her that was never meant for anyone else other than him, all the love the two planned to share, for as long as they could, hoping it could bloom into something more beautiful one day.

“And I think I see you two getting out of my storage closet before I call the cops.”

Taglist : @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie

499 notes · View notes

obbystars · 22 days

Text

It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you.

NOTES: dividers by @cafekitsune !!

( Written before 2.2 / Kinda short tbh / Boothill may be OOC / not really angst as it turns into fluff tbh / I blame this / title was chosen because I was listening to the song at the time / GN!Reader )

It took a while for Boothill to even get used to this new life, or new body. Every time he looked at himself, he’s reminded of what was stolen from him. For a time, he hated his body. He sometimes wished he stayed dead. He feels so cold. He didn’t… He never wanted this, though as time passed, he grew accustomed to it. He eventually accepted it, but it never stopped those thoughts from worming their way back into his head.

He doesn’t quite feel… human. Nothing about him truly felt human.

“Boothill? You still there?” The voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

The gentle beating of a heart entered his ears. He felt warm. He felt a warm hand gently rubbing his face. Another hand was playing with a few strands of his hair before it was now gently brushing it. He opened his eyes, finding himself in an all too familiar room. One he had always looked forward to going back to once he finally had time to spare.

And underneath him? His favorite person, of course. Someone he always looked forward to seeing again, to spending more time with. He looks up at you, and you took note of his expression.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, burying his face into your chest and closing his eyes again, “No, no ya didn’t... Don’t worry ‘bout it,”

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, trapping you in bed with him. You wiggled around in his grip for a bit to get a bit comfortable, resulting in you having to move him further up. His face was now in the crook of your neck.

Was he crushing you? Surely if he was, you would’ve said something or even tried to nudge him away. Were you cold? He hoped not… You did sometimes push him off of you because he was too cold. Sometimes he wishes he could provide you the warmth you always give him, but it’s not like he can feel it anywhere else other than his face. He hated that.

“You okay?” You questioned, your voice snapping him back to reality.

His answer was only a faint hum this time. He feels your hand brush his hair again, and you swear you can just feel him melt under your touch. It surprised you sometimes. A brash, flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, always full of energy and ready for the next journey across the stars almost turning into mush once your hands meet him. It was something you picked up on very quickly, and it didn’t take as long for you to realize why he reacts this way.

“Does it bother you?”

Your hands stop moving through the white strands, “Does what bother me?”

“This… My body. Does it-”

“No. Not at all,” you suddenly cut in, “You get cold sometimes, but that doesn’t bother me. Why do you ask?”

“…it’s nothin’,”

You turn your head to face him, nuzzling him knowing he can feel you there, “Well… It definitely is something, but… Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears,”

He can feel you gently press a kiss on his head, and another, and another, and another. The only place where he can feel you, and you were practically showering him with small kisses.

He feels warm, especially when he’s with you. Maybe that’s why he always looks forward to moments like this with you because for once, even if it’s just for a moment, he feels human.

ehhh, this felt better in my head but oh well, I just really wanted to write Boothill

I don’t regularly post fics or hcs like this but maybe I’ll make a silly side blog for it if I do find myself wanting to write so much more for Boothill ( I literally love him so much )

#it was gonna be a frank sinatra lyric but it turned into laufey #i love laufey #the frank sinatra one was gonna be and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you #it sounded nice #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #hsr x reader

556 notes · View notes

43qh · 1 month

Text

if i was honest (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: unprotected sex, reminiscing, slow burn

word count: 5.1k

summary: it’s been over a year since you last saw quinn. why does it all still ache?

you huff, looking up to the sign of your previously favorite coffee shop. how could it be that one singular person could ruin a spot for you? your favorite spot, at that. it doesn’t take long before your feet rush inside, the aroma of coffee and the warmth enveloping you like it once did a year ago.

you look around, eyes spotting the booth you usually sat. your heart speeds up when you remember that someone normally sat across you in that exact booth.

quinn hughes.

his name alone makes you shiver. you make note that that shouldn’t happen to you anymore. it’s been over a year, his name had to mean nothing to you.

except it was hard when his name was plastered all over vancouver.

you had no bad memories with him, and you guessed why it all hurt as bad as it did.

“this is going to be hard,” quinn sighs, looking at you with sparkling eyes. he had guilt ridden all over his face. you wanted to wash it away.

“no, it’s not, quinn.” you were lying. you were lying for him, and maybe even for yourself. “your decision is hockey.”

quinn purses his lips together, “i- well, no not-”

“quinn,” you stop him with a smile while grabbing his hands, “this is not up for debate. you’re gonna do so great out there. i mean, you have been. the traveling has gotten to the both of us. it’s okay to accept that we weren’t ready for this.”

you stare at him, eyes tearing up with a bright smile on your face. quinn hated this. he didn’t want his relationship to end with you just because his career was getting in the way. but, this was how it was. he had to make a strong realization that he didn’t exactly have a lot of time now that he had become captain of the Canucks. it didn’t mean his heart didn’t ache at the thought of letting you go over it.

you squeeze his hands, tilting your head up at him to bring him back to reality, “i’ll support you. i’ll love you forever.”

sitting in the booth now, alone, feels quiet. the seat is colder than you remember. coffee more bitter than you remember. seat across you more empty than you want it to be.

you sigh, clutching your coffee in your hands. a guilty part of you wishes you could hate him. but, even if you did, you would most likely still love him anyway. you wanted to hate him for the fact that you could no longer wear blue without being reminded of his eyes that shined into yours. you wanted to hate him for the fact that you rotted so deeply in your apartment for months. you wanted to hate him for all the sleepless nights. but you couldn’t.

no, you really couldn’t.

he was out living his dream, creating his life. you couldn’t hate him for doing what was best for him. what is best for him.

that didn’t stop you from knocking twice on the wooden table for good luck before leaving though, just like you and quinn once used to do. together.

maybe quinn has forgotten about you. it has been over a year now.

you hope he’s safe.

“it’s a mistletoe, quinn.” you deadpan, looking at him as you hang it up in your hallway. quinn scrunches his nose. he always found those things a bit cringe. maybe cheesy traditions weren’t his thing, but they were yours. and he’d be willing to swallow his pride for you.

“now we kiss,” your smile is contagious, and quinn chuckles under his breath at your statement. his heart was being pulled by strings like he was a puppet you controlled as he walked towards you. your arms wrap around his neck.

quinn bares himself before actually kissing you. he has to admire the way you look under the christmas lights in the small hallway. he has to admire your smile and completely feel your touch before he can give in.

quinn has to sink himself into your world before he kisses you.

when his lips touch yours, he swears sparks erupt in his stomach. he can’t contain himself and he feels like he has to hold himself steady by gripping your waist with a soft touch. he’s not on earth anymore. at least, it doesn’t feel like it anymore. and you’re way up in the clouds yourself when you hear him sigh against your lips.

your eyes sparkle when you pull away, “not a bad tradition, huh?”

quinn laughs, shaking his head as he watches you with close eyes, “guess not.”

your hands put back the mistletoe. christmas is rolling around, and when you pull out old decorations, your mind wanders. you’re not sure if you want to cry or not. the memory was nothing to be sad about.

maybe it was just his absence during a holiday the two of you always spent together.

you sit on your couch, leaning your head back and staring up at the ceiling. this wasn’t the same place you made so many memories with quinn in. the ceiling was higher, the hallway was longer, and the rooms were bigger. you got your dream job, lived a little more in quinn’s absence. you moved somewhere you knew you wouldn’t catch quinn around.

changes weren’t easy. that doesn’t mean all of them were bad, though.

your sigh echoes and bounces off the walls. it’s empty and cold and quiet. something you had to become used to when you moved here. something you had to accept when you realized quinn’s laugh wouldn’t erupt in your ears anymore.

you had forgotten what he sounds like.

you were too afraid to look at interviews, his games, anything of the likes. you didn’t listen to his old voicemails, despite keeping them. and you never tried to talk to him.

his touch no longer lingered and his smell wasn’t around.

it was almost as if quinn never existed in your world.

but that wasn’t true. never could be.

he’d always live in your heart, no matter where you went.

you had wishful thinking.

for months, you would wait for a knock on your door, a ring of your phone, even a letter in your mailbox. when all of the hope stopped, that’s when things stopped reminding you of quinn. that’s when you decided to move. that’s when you isolated yourself from the thought of him.

your wishful thinking only made you delusional, so you had to leave the only place you knew quinn hughes in.

some memories flutter back to times when the two of you would laugh on the same bed you slept in, but the room didn’t have the same acoustics. his laugh was foreign and it wouldn’t have sounded the same in the new apartment.

even after a year, you couldn’t say you were fully over him. how could you ever get over someone you were sure was your soulmate?

maybe it was right person, wrong timing.

whatever it was, you knew it would continue to consume you in some way.

it’s like you know quinn tastes like mint, a cool mint that gets mixed with fruity flavors sometimes. but you can’t taste it anymore. can’t get a grip on it.

quinn still lives within you.

quinn still haunts you.

it’s all irreversable. not saying you would turn back time and never be with quinn, but you certainly would have been more cautious with your feelings.

your sighs seem to fill the empty room of your apartment more than you liked. tears no longer fall, but the ache in your chest and stomach still linger. your sheets don’t smell like him anymore. your bed isn’t as warm as it was with quinn in it.

“why are we doing this?” quinn’s eyes are glossy. you’re not used to seeing him like this. it was such a desperate plea. almost like he was the voice of a beggar. he held no shame as he gripped your waist, holding you tightly to try and remember the feeling of you.

you shake your head, “quinn,” you look at him like the stars align with him. it makes this hurt even more for him. how could you walk away? how was he supposed to walk away? “your new life will bring you happiness.” your hand lingers on his cheek, “i wish no pain.”

“this is painful.” quinn was quick, tears threatening to fall down his red cheeks. “will i ever see you again?”

if you were honest, you would have said no. “maybe.”

quinn looks past you for a moment, “we’ll find each other.” he states, “we did before, we will again.”

we did before, we will again.

coming home from work, you’re greeted by the empty walls of your apartment again.

oh, how you wished that were true.

“you’re saying you wouldn’t walk the aisle in my jersey?” quinn quirks an eyebrow, a small smile creeping on his lips.

you scoff, “no, quinn.” you smile back despite the huff in your answer. “if it matters that much, though, i’ll get a tattoo of your number or something.”

quinn smiles at you, full teeth showing, “you’d do that?”

you hand him a dish to place in the dishwasher, the last one, “for you? anything.” even if you had never believed in tattooing things on your body to remind you of people close to you, you would do it for quinn. did this make him different from the rest in your life? maybe. all you knew now, was that you were in love.

“i’d honestly just want you as my wife as soon as possible.” quinn looks sincerely as you both dry your hands after washing them. “i’d marry you now.”

you drape the rag around the handle of your oven, looking at him with a serious gaze, “wait a bit, loverboy. we’re still young.” you chuckle to yourself. quinn leans in to place a soft kiss.

“for you? anything.”

does he think about you the same time you think about him?

are his thoughts as clouded as yours are when the night turns cold on you? when the bed feels empty? when the air feels strict?

does he try to grasp for the feeling of you the same way you do for him?

quinn’s absence taught you how to be alone. how to deal with being lonely. you no longer wanted this fate.

the fate you both had picked for one another.

how was it fair?

to act as strangers when your wedding was talked about?

to act as if you never exchanged looks of love?

to act like nothing mattered anymore?

you clench your jaw, looking up at the coffee shop sign again. you feel rage all the way down to your feet as you wonder why this had been your fate.

life doesn’t play you like chess pawns, though.

you chose this.

when you walk into the aroma of coffee, your body stills when you smell a scent you hadn’t in over a year. it was like your body was registering the fact that your familiarity towards quinn hughes had never gone away, it had just been pushed back.

your booth. he’s sitting at your booth.

when he looks over, it’s like the two of you felt a string that once was snapped apart, snap back together. the natural attraction wasn’t new, but it had been over a year since you’ve felt it. since you’ve seen his face. his hair looked fuller, his face more scruffy, his eyes a little more dull.

you couldn’t stop the way your feet dragged towards the booth. your eyes not leaving his. the ache is indescribable. the pain shooting through your bones, down your spine, to your feet.

you sit across him, just like you used to.

quinn breaks the long silence first.

“i knew you weren’t being honest when you said ‘maybe’.” he confesses. your spit feels lodged in your throat as he continues, “but i was being honest when i said we would find each other again.”

tears prick your eyes. if you had been honest, maybe he would have moved on. even while knowing your dishonesty, though, he held hope for you. quinn wasn’t someone who gave up, even when being deceived.

you lick your lips, “i know.”

“someone told me they saw you here,” he clarifies why he was there, “no one had heard from you since we broke up. everyone said it was like you shut the whole world out.”

“i got a steady job.” you try to rectify your actions. “new apartment.”

quinn leans back, eyes studying your position, “somewhere not too close to me, i’m guessing.”

you look away, before nodding your head, “i think i dealt with it all too wrong.”

“no,” quinn says. “you did it your way. the only way you knew how.” he pauses, “so did i.”

you look at him, a tight breath in your chest. his gaze was strong, but you could still feel the softness behind his eyes. you wanted to fold, forget you ever left him. but you knew that wasn’t possible. you both left. you both let go.

“i never forgot you,” your confession lingers.

“me neither.”

how could either of you forget one another?

“i’m going to leave my number,” quinn states, slipping you a note that was pre-written already for your viewing, “i don’t expect to hear from you. but, knowing you have it, will bring me peace.”

those were his last words before he walked out the shop. you watched his stride, a lot more confident than back then. his complexion more pale. his shoulders more broad.

you look down at the number.

quinn made it your decision.

your final decision.

two weeks, two days.

it’s been two weeks and two days since you’ve last seen him. since he gave you his number. it’s also been two weeks and two days since you last spoke to him. your anxiety rides up your stomach every time you look at the digits on the paper made just for you. the paper taunts you as you lie to it, saying you don’t want it.

you managed to occupy yourself with work in the hours you could. but once your back hit your bed, everything comes back full force. the memory of quinn’s eyes boaring into your own. the memory of how scratchy his voice sounded. the memory of how you could still detect his cologne and shampoo through the coffee accents in the room.

it’s all too much, really.

you thought it wouldn’t ache like this anymore.

it’s been a year, afterall. how could it all ache the same way when you both departed? how could he feel so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time? how could his presence alone cause so many sleepless nights?

the obsession over a paper with numbers on it became unhealthy. you were scared to contact him. what if it was all different? you weren’t ready to see how different his life had become without you. you could already see some physical differences, but those eyes he carries never changed how he looked at you. you saw a sparkle when his eyes came into contact with yours. you saw the way he watched with diligence.

you were sure quinn wanted to approach you slowly, with care. you were sure quinn didn’t plan on giving you his number the second he saw you. but you also know that when he sees you, his emotions consume him first. he wasn’t at fault for that.

his heart was too big for you.

you always managed to be logical when it came to quinn. you thought letting him go was the right, logical thing to do. you know it burned the both of you straight through hell, but you only knew how to make logical decisions.

that’s why his number sat so long on your kitchen island.

if you call him, your love was no longer logical.

who were you if you weren’t logical? who were you, if not who you’ve always been?

your eyes flutter shut as you lay in bed, eyes watering as you torture yourself further.

maybe being logical didn’t fit in this situation any longer.

three weeks, 6 days.

you sigh as you press the elevator button to your apartment floor. work was your escape right now. and it seemed to please your boss with the way you stayed a little extra longer each night. your coworkers were worried, though. your eyes were drawing foreign bags, your hands more shaky than they used to be.

when you hear the ding of your floor, you walk slowly out the metal doors. you turn right, dragging your feet in the heels that were starting to ache. you drew in a breath of shock when you see a silhouette of a man you knew all too well. you pout, walking towards your door and seeing the way his eyes drew to the sound of your heels.

he leans against the wall beside your apartment door, eyes looking at you like you’re what he’s been looking for all his life.

“are you stalking me now?” your voice sounded tired, trying to make a joke.

quinn pushes off the wall, “you never called.”

“so you decide to come to my apartment?” you raise an eyebrow, reaching into your purse for your keys.

quinn rubs his hands together in an anxious manner, “you may not need me anymore,” he’s wrong, “but i need you.”

you pause after you twist the key into your lock, the unlocked door now taunting you. begging you to let him in.

against all judgement, you do.

“come in,” you walk inside first, letting the door linger open for him to follow. and he does, hastily collecting himself as he enters the room.

you were right. this was a new apartment. maybe too new. it looked nothing like your previous one, and he assumed it was because you needed a big change after him. he wondered just how much of you remained the same. he was sure you wondered the same thing about him.

quinn can smell the familiarity of your perfume, your favorite candle lingering in the air. he can even smell your shampoo and conditioner. it was all too familiar, and he wasn’t sure if it was suffocating or comforting.

he spots the couch in the living room, the same couch that was in your old apartment. it made his heart ache. he remembers just how many times the two of you accidentally fell asleep there, exhaustion consuming the both of you.

“yeah, i never had the heart to get rid of it.” you break the silence, placing your heels in the shoe rack by your door. “held too many memories.”

quinn nods his head, eyes locking with yours as he tears away from the couch. “i wouldn’t be able to either.”

you’re so close. he could touch you if he really wanted to. if he reached a hand out for yours, he could hold it. but he resorts to placing his hands into his pockets that itch for the comfort of your soft hands in his.

“why did you come here? it can’t be just because i never called,” you look at him with furrowed brows, reading him too clearly.

quinn shuffles where he stands, your gaze piercing right through him, “you still know me too well, huh?”

you look away for just a split second, “it’s not like i could shut it off if i wanted to. i know you know me too.”

you weren’t wrong. “you may not want me back. and i know that you still think you’re doing the right thing. but what is love if not fighting for it?” quinn’s words linger in your ears. “i’m not good with words, you know that. but when i saw you in the coffee shop, i felt like there was so much i could have said. so much i maybe should have said.”

you look at him and cross your arms, unable to say anything as he rambles back on.

“love is letting myself love someone, even though i’m still scared. it’s such a heavy thing we all carry,” quinn was never this deep. never really searched for the right words before this. “but i have to let it carry me as much as i carry it. and if i can’t carry you along with me, i think i’ll be holding out for love forever.”

you swallow, eyes tearing up despite your better judgement. you wanted to have a mind not carried by emotions. you worked so hard for it. but when it came to quinn, you knew he would win. every single time, he would win first.

“when did you become so poetic?” you sniffle out a joke, trying to lighten up the heavy mood. it doesn’t really work as you feel the weight of his words hold you down.

“when you left. when i left.”

quinn’s eyes search yours, he can see the tears brimming your wonderfully beautiful eyes. he hates to be the one to cause you so much pain, but he needed you to hear the words he’s been holding down his throat for too long.

you reach out a hand, and quinn is quick to take his hands out his pockets to reach for you. your hand is warm, while his are cold. the contrast between the two of you makes you both flinch a bit. the touch was electric, though. something you hadn’t felt in such a long time. something you knew would only be made from quinn.

you drag him closer to you, and his feet drag to you like a lost puppy. he was willing to receive anything you give him. anything.

you can smell the familiar cool mint, figuring he had previously chewed a piece of gum before seeing you. he was so close, making your body burn in its place.

“we should stop hurting one another,” you state.

“then let’s stop.” quinn leans closer to you, looking into your eyes, pleading with you.

you don’t say anything. the both of you quiet, the room an eery silence that sends shivers down your spine. you can feel quinn inching closer. and you can feel the way you don’t stop him.

when quinn’s nose brushes against yours, he takes a deep breath. you part your lips in a way that catches quinn’s eye. he expected you to push him back, say something that will be the definite end for the both of you. but when you just flutter your eyes shut in anticipation, he doesn’t miss the chance to kiss you.

and, god, do you ascend back to heaven.

your arms wrap around his neck, his hands finding purchase on your waist. he rubs soothing circles with his thumbs, making you hum into the kiss. it was slow, deep. something that held a certain type of ache that only the two of you could ever feel. it was a burning passion of hope. it was a kiss of forgotten hurt.

quinn swears he could stay like this forever. the feeling of your soft lips back on his after a year without it, nothing compares. the feeling of your fingers loosely gripping his hair. the feeling of your body pressing against his own. he could feel the goosebumps creeping up on his skin, despite the warm feeling in his chest.

you couldn’t find it in yourself to hold away anymore. his touch was heaven. his scent was your home. his presence was where you wanted to be. needed to be. you could deny just how much you needed him for the rest of your life, but you knew you would be lying.

if you were honest, this was where you belonged most.

quinn was patient. he’d call you when he couldn’t come see you, come see you any chance he could. and quinn made no advances that weren’t initiated by you first. there were a few kisses after the first in a long time, and it still felt the same as it always did. like you were being sent to heaven, despite the sins you may have commit.

a month passes, and quinn was slowly becoming part of your daily routine like he used to be. he was all too familiar, and yet unfamiliar all at the same time. there were some changes about quinn, but it was mostly either physical or with the way he loved you. quinn’s love always ran deep. but, this time, it seemed like he was willing to hide it all a bit better just not to scare you off. the thought makes you feel guilty. he knows you’re still walking on eggshells, and so he does too.

he responds to you perfectly. always saying what you need to hear. always being at a distance that makes you most comfortable.

tonight felt different, though.

you needed him closer.

when you kissed him this time, it felt feverish. it felt needy. quinn responded back with a scratchy groan, sending a shock through your system as you tugged him closer. he had only just walked through your front door before you were latching onto him, making him stumble a bit but catching his ground just as quick. he could feel the way one of your hands clutched tightly to his shirt. he could taste the chapstick on your lips, eagerly kissing you back like you needed.

quinn doesn’t take it a step further, despite your whines in his mouth. he can feel himself harden at the sound, but opts for just clutching onto your hips a little tighter to hold himself back.

“please, quinn,” you breathe as you barely give the boy some space between the two of you. not that he’d ever complain. “i need you.”

quinn’s hands find purchase beneath your shirt, feeling the way your skin burns just for him, “are you sure? we can wait a lifetime if you need to.”

“no, i’m so tired of waiting.” you kiss his jaw, making him hum. “made us both wait too long.”

you knew it was only a matter of time before you became full putty in the hands of quinn hughes. and you knew he would take care of you, no matter the circumstances. so, he agrees. nodding his head and kissing you slowly this time, almost selfishly agreeing to your terms.

when he makes way to your bedroom, he lets himself be consumed by everything you. when he looms over you, your back pressed into the mattress, you feel loved again. quinn takes his time taking off both of your clothes, letting room for you to stop and say no. but you never do, not even when you’re fully naked and looking more beautiful under the moonlight that glooms your bedroom.

quinn’s dick is just as you remember, but you can’t say you remember what it really felt like to have him inside you. you bite your lip in anticipation, looking up at him with innocent eyes that make him shudder.

“we can stop-”

“please, quinn.” you reach up, running a hand along the scruff of his cheek, “i love you.”

you were honest.

quinn doesn’t seem to need more than that as he quickly makes way towards your entrance, “i love you, too.” he kisses your temple as he easily slides into you, “forever.”

you can hear the strangle in his voice as he bottoms out, making you gasp and do your best to adjust to his size. you haven’t given yourself to a man since he left, making you squeeze your eyes shut with belated breaths and soft whines as you feel him fill up every corner of your cunt.

“so good,” quinn whispers in your ear, making you clench involuntarily. he groans at the sensation, “so tight, so wet, so warm.”

when he finally begins to move, you swear up and down that this was the best you’ve ever felt. your moans are uncoverable, loud and bouncing off your walls in a melody that quinn never wants to forget.

“f-feels so good,” you mutter out in a broken string of moans, stroking his ego just a little bit.

quinn nods, “fuck, yeah.” his voice was deeper, more hushed.

the movement of his hips pick up when he feels you start to clench more, delving into you in almost a selfish pace. he makes sure to check your facial expressions every now and then, making sure you’re still comfortable. when he feels your nails claw his back and your legs wrap around his waist, he no longer feels doubt. it’s all pure bliss for the both of you.

this was love.

“want to make you cum for me,” he huffs, “cum on my cock.”

quinn’s words hit straight through your gut, and you’re so close to your pent up release. quinn would be lying if he wasn’t, too.

quinn’s thrusts become a bit sloppier, but deeper, triggering a strong release within you suddenly. your pussy clenches as tight as possible around him, making him grunt as he follows with you, spilling his white, hot cum inside you. the feeling sends shivers down your spine, feeling more connected to him at the action.

when your breaths slow, you release your tight hold on him. quinn places a chaste kiss on your lips before going to grab a washcloth, cleaning the both of you.

“stay the night,” you look at him, and he can see the way your eyes drift with a nervous intent.

quinn only smiles, placing his boxers back on and grabbing you a fresh set of clothes, “of course.”

sleeping in his arms was home.

and it continued that way for such a long time. the two of you going just a few more months without labels needed. but it all felt like he had never left. like you had never left either.

the ache of your past still comes back every now and then, but quinn is right there by your side any time you start to doubt yourself.

“how do i deserve you?” you question, and quinn just shakes his head.

“how do i deserve you?”

old memories became washed out with new ones.

when quinn finally asked you to try again, all you could do was grin. your kiss sealed the deal, and the both of you swore to never be scared like that again.

to let love be.

this was you finally being honest.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes scenario #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #nhl #nhl fluff #nhl smut #nhl angst #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl hockey

442 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 2 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @bwormie @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled.)

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

477 notes · View notes

kennedyalike · 10 months

Note

sex with leon after a fight like jealousy or something idk 🤭🤭

all mine

hope you like this, sorry if it isn’t what you hoped for!!

pairing: leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags: jealousy, possesiveness, p in v sex, car sex, semi public sex

summary: leon sees you working out with carlos and can’t help but feel jealous

word count: 1,78k

you: comin’ to get me?

leon: i’m already in the parking lot, can i come in?

you: be my guest

The gym wasn’t your favorite place, but you had to do what you had to do. While squatting up a huge barbell, your eyes can’t help but to gaze at the door, wondering when Leon would come in. Suddenly the barbell feels lighter and you snap back to reality.

”Hey, focus!” Carlos grunts behind you as he helps you lift the barbell back to the rack. You sigh and stretch your legs quickly, pulling yourself back in the moment. ”Go again. I’ll help, okay?” He reassures you as you lift the barbell back onto your shoulders again. Widening your stance and fixing your posture, you get ready to squat.

Carlos’ hands finds itself grabbing your waist on both sides to help you keep your form. He pulls himself closer, hip almost joining yours as he watches you squat down slowly. You almost forgot all about Leon, focusing on squatting this thing. As you come up and lift the barbell back to its rack, you turn around to Carlos and smile. ”I did it!”

He smiles back at you while you hold your hand up, waiting for a high five. Instead, he pulls you into a hug and you accept it, chuckling as you wrap your arms around him. Carlos’ hands grab your waist again as he hugs you. Over his shoulder, you see Leon standing at the door, waiting for you.

You quickly pull out of the hug and say your goodbyes to Carlos. ”See you monday, lookin’ good!” He compliments you and you nod back, grabbing your gym bag and walking towards Leon. As you walk, he just stares your body up and down the whole way until you’re in front of him, waving your hand jokingly across his face. ”Eyes up here, Leon.” You tease him, but he only looks past you, his brows furrowed. He seems annoyed.

He grabs your arm and practically drags you out of the gym. If Leon knew this was what you were doing at the gym, he wouldn't have allowed you to go there in the first place. Who was he to decide that anyways? He was a friend, just like Carlos. A friend. Except he wasn’t. He was far more than a friend but he wasn’t your boyfriend either. You both knew it was more than friends. Couple dates, hangouts, calls and maybe you two did fuck on occasion, who knows?

Leon wasn’t as dumb as you, Carlos was a good ”friend” you met at the gym who offered to help you to ”keep your form” or whatever. Bullshit. Leon saw right through it just now. The way Carlos’ hands sneaked around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as you squat in front of him. He definitely had ulterior motives, he wasn’t just helping you. But of course, you were too innocent and oblivious to understand.

You furrow your brows in concern while you follow Leon to his car in the parking lot, letting him slightly drag you. ”Leon, is something wrong?” You hesitate to ask as he opens the backseat door of his car for you. Quietness follows and it makes you uneasy, you begin to wonder if Leon is actually jealous of Carlos. Maybe that was your plan all along.

You settle your bag into the legroom and sit, grabbing the door to close it until Leon stops you, suddenly getting into the back seat with you and closing the door after him. Before even beginning to speak, you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. A blush creeps on your cheeks as you grab his shoulders and ground yourself, settling both thighs on the sides of his. ”Naughty girl.” Your eyes widen from confusion but you feel your stomach flutter from his words, sending a small sensation down between your thighs.

”You’re not even gonna say anything, hm?” He asks angrily. ”What do you mean, Leon?” You ask confusedly as you look at his annoyed face. He scoffs in return and you feel his grip on your hips tighten. ”You and him, stop that shit.” He says and you can’t help the small smirk forming in the corner of your mouth as you grind into him slightly.

”Are you jealous, Leon?” You tease him as you drag your fingers across his stern chest, looking up at him innocently. He looks away in annoyance and sighs. You continue looking at his face, seemingly unamused. ”He’s just a friend, means nothing bad, I promise.” You say honestly as your hand caresses his cheek, prompting him to look at you. His gaze finally turns to look you in the eyes. ”How would you feel if I went and grabbed some girl's waist while she squats in front of me, huh?”

Your hand never leaves his cheek as you think about it for a second. It would feel horrible, Leon looking at some other woman than you, grabbing her waist like he’s grabbing yours right now. You nod slowly. ”I get it. m’ sorry.” You apologize and nervously look away. He leans in closer to you, whispering to your ear. ”Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart.” His deep voice whispering to your ears sends a tingle down your body as you gasp slightly. ”W-What?”

”You heard me.”

”How?”

He smirks at your words and looks down at your lap, grinding your hips into his and you feel his erection through your gym shorts. ”B-But someone could see us..” You say unsurely as you try to deny the heat that was growing between your thighs. The thought of Leon taking you right here, where someone could see was getting you so wet. ”Then let them see.” The last word of his sentence mumbles quietly as his lips join yours in a kiss. He’s hungrily kissing you, while grinding your hips down on his painfully erect cock.

You grind into him and wrap your arms around his shoulders as you keep kissing him back. The sensation of his soft lips dominating over yours feels as amazing as ever. He was right, you were his and you were gonna prove it to him. His other hand trails up your body from your hips to your tits, he fondles them through your gym shirt, causing you to moan into the kiss slightly. You tilt your head to the left and let him press kisses into your neck. Rough kisses that would definitely leave a mark.

Your body shivers as he breathes into your neck, still pressing kisses. You whimper and grind your hips into his, desperate for some friction to your cunt. ”Show me how sorry you are, ride me.” He whispers into your ear again and you only nod frantically. ”Good girl.” He praises as you take off your shirt, leaving you in your busty bra as you start inching your gym shorts off. His big hands come to your aid as he slips them off, leaving you in your underwear.

You forgot all about your surroundings as you straddle his lap again, starting to unbuckle his belt while he carefully watches you, feeling proud of your obedience. You eagerly unbuckle his belt and push his pants down to his knees, boxers coming with them. His cock is fully erect and it stands against his clothes abdomen. You immediately grab it with your hands and start stroking it up and down. Leon groans from the contact as his hands find your hips, trying to pull you on top of his cock already.

His length was veiny, long and girthy, tip leaking with a small bead of precum as you stroke it a couple times before lifting your hips on top of him. His fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Slowly you guide his tip to your wet hole and you can basically feel yourself clenching around nothingness. You whine as you slowly start sitting down, pushing his cock deeper into you. His heavy breathing against your neck as you grab his shoulders with both hands and he grabs your hips, slamming you down on his cock.

”Oh my god!” You whine as he fully sheathed himself in you and starts bucking his hips up, fucking into you roughly. The stretch of his cock in you without any foreplay hurt at first, the burning contact as he fucks into you as he pleases. He lets out small breathy moans as he continues his pace, pampering your neck with suckling kisses as you turn into a whiny mess on top of him.

”Leon, s’ too much!” You moan into his ear as the slight pain starts turning into pleasure. Your pussy clenches around his cock while he pounds into you, forgetting that you were supposed to ride him. ”You can take it, right, baby?” He mocks you while lifting your hips up slightly so he could gain a better angle.

”Apologize, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

”F-fuck! M’ sorry-Ah! Leon-h!” You desperately moan as he pounds into you. Wet sounds of your pussy wanting him even deeper echo in the car, you forget all about your surroundings as you start meeting his thrusts, broken moans escaping your mouth as you listen to him groan from the feeling. ”Good girl, just like that. Fuck, so tight.”

His other hand leaves your hips and sneaks down to circle around your clit as you keep lifting your hips up and down on his lap, rutting his cock inside you. ”Please, Leon..” You desperately whine when his thumb rubs on your clit, causing your pussy to clench on his cock, trying to milk it dry.

”Cum, it’s okay.” He reassures as his hips start picking up the pace again, feeling himself come closer to the edge of orgasm as well. Babbling incoherent ”m’ sorry’s” and his name all over again, you let go of the feeling and feel yourself cumming on his cock. You moan loudly as you lean towards his chest, basically hugging him as your body does numb and the orgasm washes over you. Leon keeps holding your hips with both hands, rummaging a few sloppy thrusts into your clenching hole until he finally is satisfied and releases his cum into you. He holds your hips close to his and tucks your hair behind your ears. While small whimpers still leave your mouth, he whispers into your ear. ”You’re all mine, d’ya understand?”

#leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #leon smut #resident evil #smut #resident evil leon

2K notes · View notes

delulujuls · 3 months

Text

it's just us | mv33

hi! i can't get enough of my dutch duo, so here comes the third part of the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess and if you didn't read the second part of it but you wanna catch up, here it is!

you can read each of this solo and you can read it all like series. it work well both ways!

so yeah, as usual, bon apetit and enjooooy x

summary: y/n is upset by some media nonsense she read online but max is here to remind her that at the end of the day its just them and the rest doesn't really matter

warnings: i tried with a smut but im not sure how it went, sexual content, +18, eating p, praising, comfort sex?

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

The kiss didn't change anything between Y/N and Max.

In the other hand, it changed everything, but it absolutely did not affect their relationship. There were no nervous questions, no timid behavior, no checking whether a quick kiss at the strategists' table was okay, or whether it was necessary to count down the seconds of the hug they exchanged with each other after the race so that it wouldn't last too long.

To be honest, their entry into a relationship was a kind of relief for the entire team. Christian Horner himself, the team father of the two flying Dutch, seeing them kissing after winning the podium, just shook his head and with a slight smile admitted "Finally, fucking hell".

Of course, the media did not leave a single dry spot on Red Bull drivers. The couple, of course, did not flaunt their feelings left and right, because it was absolutely not their style, but it was difficult to take a seat in the car without a quick kiss and wishing each other good luck. And we know how hungry reporter hyenas are.

"This is absurd"

The girl shook her head and threw the phone into the pillows. It was already late in the evening and the couple was getting ready for bed, as they had a long media day ahead of them tomorrow.

"I told you not to read this nonsense."

Max replied, emerging from the bathroom in shorts and drying his wet hair with a towel.

Y/N didn't answer. She kept her eyes glued to the sheets and felt her stomach begin to ache from nerves. Max knew perfectly well that the lack of an answer meant only one thing. The overthinking machine already started.

He put the towel aside and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her temple.

"Look at you, a fearless Dutchess worrying about some stupid texts. That's not in your style at all"

He spoke jokingly, trying to cheer her up a bit. However, she was really touched.

"It's just making me sick when someone is saying made up bullshit"

She replied bitterly, feeling tears forming under her eyelids. She could deny with her arms and legs that these were tears of anger, but in the reality she was simply hurted. And Max knew this perfectly well.

"You know very well that this bunch of idiots will write anything for views. At the end of the day, only you and I know the truth. It's just us, remember?"

He said calmly and stroked her shoulder. Y/N sniffed. Max was absolutely right. It's just them and that was all that mattered. Even though she received numerous criticisms in the media over the years, newspapers and Internet portals often trashed her, all this did not make any impression on her. Unfortunately, it was different in this case, because it was no longer just about her. It was about them, about her and Max.

She raised her head and met a pair of blue, gentle eyes. The ocean was calm, july was dominating the cloudless sky. She herself slowly began to feel calm, accepting that it was just meaningless nonsense.

"I love you, but you already know that, right?"

She asked, smiling slightly.

He nodded and returned her smile, kissing her forehead.

"The only thing that matters is that we have each other and we love each other. And as a certain genius said, fuck 'em all."

"Fuck 'em all"

The girl repeated and smiled wider, causing the last tears of sadness and anger to leave the corners of her eyes. Max wiped her cheeks and lifted her chin, kissing her.

Y/N kissed him back, touching his rough cheek. He easily pulled her onto his lap and she sat on his soft thighs, laughing quietly. She knew exactly where this was going.

"We have a lot of work tomorrow, Max."

"We will boycott media day tomorrow. 'Red Bull drivers protest against idiotic headlines' sounds better, doesn't it?" he asked, being so serious that the girl burst out laughing, "Or better yet, 'Red Bull shock!' Couple had sex until dawn to boycott the media', yes!"

"With the link 'see photos', definitely," she added, laughing.

Max took her face in his hands.

"I much prefer it when you smile, you know?"

Y/N nodded and leaned in, kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she tangled her fingers in his still damp hair. Their kisses were slow and tender, filled to the brim with love. Years of arguments, making up and standing up for yourself only to argue and slam doors again led to a place where there was an incredible amount of love to give and receive from both sides.

Max slipped his hands under her shirt, squeezing lightly her soft flesh. The girl sighed quietly into his mouth and he smiled at her reaction. If he thought that after so many years, he would fall in love overnight with the girl he always had by his side, he would laugh at himself.

He took off her shirt, so there was no longer any blockage between their heated bodies. Skin pressed against skin, lips pressed against lips. These moments were incredibly soothing for both of them. One might think that after so much time spent together, both in good and bad relationships, one cannot count on any elation. What wrong thinking this is.

Max grunted softly as he grabbed and pressed her closer to him. His soft purr, which lightly touched the girl's ear, gave her goosebumps. He moved from his mouth to her neck, leaving wet, slightly pink traces on her skin. Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, feeling both the softness of his lips and his rough, scratchy stubble.

"I love the way you smell"

He said quietly, almost in a whisper. She smiled to herself and gently grabbed his hair, tilting his head back, making him break away from her neck and they were able to look into each other's eyes again.

"I taste even better though"

She lunged seductively and crashed into his mouth again. Max easily grabbed her thighs and lifted her, throwing her onto the bed.

"You always have to do this, right?"

He asked, his breathing a little quicker. His aura instantly darkened, and his eyes seemed bottomless. Y/N frowned a bit, not knowing what he meant. But seeing him like this, she only wanted one thing. Him.

"You always have to throw something away, set me straight. Always."

She raised herself on her elbows, looking at him with a slight smile and thus posing a challenge to him.

"You could try to humble me"

As soon as she finished speaking, he pressed her body against the mattress and kissed her deeply. The girl wrapped her legs around his hips and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wanted to be closer, as close as possible.

Their kisses were still full of love, but now the tenderness gave way to passion. When Max moved to the girl's neck, she felt her lips burning and swollen. It didn't help when she bit down on them, feeling Max suck on her nipple. Blue eyes carefully followed the girl's rosy face, wanting to make sure she was giving her nothing more than pleasure.

When his teeth hit the soft skin, a long groan filled the bedroom. Max smiled, licking her breast while massaging the other one with his hand. He much preferred to hear her moans rather than Dutch insults. After a few moments, he moved lower again, kissing his way across her stomach. He tightened his large hands on her sides and buried his face in her stomach. She smiled at his gesture, running her fingers through his hair.

"You're soft, so soft. Fuck, so soft."

Max murmured, his face still pressed against her stomach. Y/N couldn't help but laugh quietly. This whole situation, the very fact that they were now apparently a couple, was unthinkable to her. And the fact that they were both adults and now they were acting like a couple of teenagers.

"Simply, simply lovely"

He shook his head and placed a few more kisses on her skin until he reached the waistband of her panties. He looked up at her face again, wanting to make sure she had her consent, but she, still smiling slightly, just nodded in answer.

Max undressed her completely in one move and spread her legs, hugging her thighs. As soon as his tongue passed over her clit, she closed her eyes and licked her lips. This wasn't the first time they had had sex, but Y/N had already become familiar with certain behaviors Max displayed in bed, and one of them was the desire to please his partner. Max loved to take, but God, he loved to give even more.

As his tongue moved over her clit in smooth, circular motions, his eyes studied her body carefully. Her hard, pink nipples, uneven moving chest, her dry, parted lips, rosy face, her tightly shut eyelids. Max smiled slightly, proud of himself of turning her into such mess. Y/N involuntarily opened her eyes and looked down her body, causing their eyes to meet.

"Do you like it, schat?"

He asked, pausing his movements. He blew lightly on her pink, swollen clit, making her shiver.

"Mhm, please -just, just don't stop"

"As you wish, love"

He replied, going back to work. Her hand involuntarily tightened on his hair and it didn't take much for her back to arch and an orgasm to fill her body. A loud, long moan broke the density that had reigned in the hotel bedroom. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, and it was hard for her to breathe. Max pulled himself up and kissed her, moistening her dry lips with her own juices, which made him all wet. Y/N smiled and hugged his neck, giving him wet, sloppy kisses. He was resting one hand next to her head, and with the other he was trying to free himself from his suddenly too tight and slightly soaked shorts. When he succeeded, he slowly inserted himself into her hot, tight and incredibly wet interior. She broke the kiss, parting her lips at the sudden sensation, digging her nails into his bare, muscular back.

"Fuck, Max, oh my god-"

"Yeah, i know baby" he muttered, stopping his movements "I'll be gentle, take your time"

Max kissed her, wanting to help her relax. She returned each of his kisses, which were now delicate and tender. Max was incredibly gentle and had countless layers of love inside him. His tender touch, sweet nothings whispered straight into the ear, the certainty that his partner is happy and feels incredible pleasure. Max seemed to her as an incredibly selfish asshole at times, but in this case it had absolutely no effect. The only thing he cared about at that moment was pleasing her and distracting her from negative thoughts. After some time, he began to move slowly inside her, feeling that she is not so tense anymore and soon any discomfort disappeared and was replaced by incredible pleasure. Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply.

"I'm all yours now" she said, smiling slightly into his mouth.

"You are and always been mine"

He replied and kissed her back. His movements went from slow and calm to faster and more decisive, increasing in intensity with each passing minute. Single moans that had been thrown into the thick air filling the bedroom some time ago now cut through them like bullets. Max felt the sweat that had formed on his back sting the scratches left by the girl's nails. He sat back on his heels and wrapped his arms around her thighs, now fucking her to the point where they skin were clapping on each other. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs, his still damp hair falling into his eyes. His lips were bitten and every now and then a low moan escaped his throat. His arm and abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed steadily, and numerous love marks adorned his fair skin.

"You look so good, and feel -fuck, feel so good, too"

Y/N moaned, clenching her hands on the sheets, feeling how he perfectly hit her inner, sensitive spot with each movement.

"And you are doing so good by taking me so well, baby"

The truth was that she was a total mess underneath him. She wasn't even fully aware of her words or of her actions, all of this was feeling so good, he was feeling so good.

It didn't take much for either of them to reach their orgasm, which came over them almost simultaneously. A moment later they were lying next to each other, Y/N resting her cheek on his chest and her hand lying limply on his stomach. He was hugging her, tracing lines on her arm.

"I hope you won't worry anymore about any stupid things said by other people"

Max said and kissed her temple. She smiled and raised her head, kissing him on the cheek.

"At the end of the day it's just us, right?"

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #mv33 #mv1

466 notes · View notes

transmascaraa · 3 months

Note

hi! is it ok to req a lyney, gaming, and/or bennett scenario where reader likes to kiss key areas on their body? e.i. lyney's teardrop makeup, the x scar on bennett's shoulder, gaming's little neck mole, etc.

it doesn't have to be all of them btw! just ideas stemmed from my brainrot

— 🧷anon

multiple characters headcannons!

kissing key areas on their bodies... how do they react?

characters: bennett, gaming, lyney x gn!reader

author's note: HELP I LOVE THIS REQUEST TOO MUCH I SHOULD BE CONCERNED IT'S SUCH A CUTE IDEAAA i tried my best please i'll be obsessed with this one i just know it

๑ Bennett

-he would be a bit surprised bffr

-you would kiss his scar while telling him that it's okay to be clumsy that it's no big deal etc that you'll love him nonetheless

-he would be blushing and just thanking you a billion times(he still hasn't said it enough)

-and you'd just kiss him which would only make him blush more

-he's a blushing mess

-he doesn't know how to return the favor

-so yk

-he returns the favor by giving you a little kiss on your lips

-hoping that it was enough(for him it wasn't)

-but if he didn't accept it, you would continue kissing the scar and even tickling him until he accepted it and thought he had thanked you enough.

-in reality, he just doesn't want you to leave him because of his unluckiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✷ Gaming

-he's a total sweetheart help

-you'd kiss that mole on his neck and he would be a tomato already there

-off topic for a second but i love that he has a mole because i have moles all over my body and just one on him means sm to me for some reason(i'm not okay) so idk wether to feel proud or not about them

-anyways back to gaming

-he would blush and after you looked back up at him he would hide his face in your neck

-hiding that adorable blushing face of his

-you just tell him that it's cute and continue doing it until he's more than just a blushing mess.

-he wants to return the favor so he showers you with kisses.

-be ready for him being extra cure for the nextt few days.

-and if course, clingy as fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Lyney

-bro will be flabbergasted.

-he's the flitry one, he's the rizzler, he's the more dominant one!

-so when you catch him off guard like that after a show as a sign of praise...

-he is as red as his pyro vision.

-he's so embarrassed that he doesn't even hide his face, just stand there frozen(even tho he's tehnically burning on the unside)

-he doesn't understand how you make him feel so hot, but loves it so much despite not telling you so

-and when you'd pull back from his cheek, where his signature teardrop makeup mark is...

-he's looking at you. just looking.

-red as fuck.

-he's adorable.

-so in order to get at least a bit of lyney back, you'll have to drag him with you.

-for the rest of the day, he'll be completely flabbergasted. and tonight, he'll keep his hand on where the mark is, not daring to wipe it off.

-(he was looking at himself in the mirror and just graced his fingers over the mark gently, admiring it.)

-for the next few days, he's more than clingy.

-and for the rest of your guys' lives, he'll never miss a day when he doesn't draw that mark on his cheek.

-and if you kiss it ever again, the cycle restarts itself...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i have an obsession okay

LYNEY'S PART IS LONGER I'M SORRY BUT I'M LITERALLY OMW TO WRITE THAT BRAINROT OR WHATEVER

but the others were precious i swear i love them all(favorite vision is anemo why tf do i like short pyro men)

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #gaming x you #gaming x reader #bennett x you #bennett x reader #lyney x you #lyney x reader #lyney is making me act up help #⑅⁠čikonyxo's post🎭

482 notes · View notes

genshin-obsessed · 11 months

Text

Confessions | Honkai Star Rail

So i've been super into hsr recently and I thought I'd get back to doing longer hcs because those are always fun! This time I left out Welt and Sampo and I'm not sure how I feel about it lol ✧ Includes: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Blade ✧ Extra: Something a little weird has happened to my Blade lol, he's just a confused man who really likes the reader. It may be ooc- i have no clue

Dan Heng

For Dan Heng, he doesn’t know how long he’s liked you. He just realized it one day when you said something- a compliment towards him- and he just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Dan Heng’s not the most outward person, so wanting to confess wasn’t something easy for him. He actually needed to prepare, give himself a pep talk and all. His method is invite you to his room and then just tell you- no beating around the bush.

You’re shocked to say the least- I mean it’s DAN HENG. He liked you?! HE CONFESSED?! You sat there for a good minute just staring at him. He looked calm but kinda started panicking on the inside.

“I-I like you too!” You say before he can speak. You were so loud, he jumped a little. Safe to say, he’s extremely happy you accepted because then it would’ve been awkward afterwards.

“Oh good… good.”

Gepard Landau

Everyone knows Gepard likes you before himself. He can say it’s just been a few months but others know it’s been like a year. It’s just the way he acts and stuff.

Gepard has a VERY hard time confessing. He’ll keep trying to do it, but then backs out at the last minute. He’ll keep saying he wants to talk to you about something important then just doesn’t tell you. Finally, one day… it slips out. You two are alone and he barely realizes it until he sees your face.

You’re happy but also shocked. The guy you’ve liked for like ever finally likes you back! Do you go through the statue phase of freezing up and staring? Yes. Did he start panicking because of it? Yes. Your reaction right after was to throw yourself at him and give him a tight hug.

He doesn’t say anything right then and just hugs you back. You not running away, horrified, probably meant you felt the same. That made him happy- so happy he didn’t even know what to do.

“Thank you… for not running away- oh and liking me back.”

Jing Yuan

His feelings had been around for a few months now, he knew pretty much instantly when he was attracted to you. It didn’t take him long to figure out he was in love with you either. It was obvious, his heart pounded when you were around, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he was always worried you’d find someone else.

Jing Yuan confesses fancy style. He’ll invite you out to like dinner or something or maybe just to take a late night walk with him. As you’re walking, he’ll coyly bring up the topic of dating and whatnot. You two chat for a bit, then he just admits it. He makes sure to add the “it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, I won’t be upset.”

Of course, you do feel the same way! Your eyes widen and you gasp as the reality sets in. The General of the Cloud Knights liked YOU! It took a moment to just process his words, and Jing Yuan stood there patiently, giving you time to think. If you were going to say no, that’s fine, he just needed a clear answer. You found it hard to speak but forced the words out, “I-I feel the same.”

Jing Yuan’s over the moon with this newfound knowledge. He’s so happy, he could shout it out from over the rooftops. Honestly! All he can do is give you a tight hug, not wanting to do anything else if you weren’t ready for it- say a kiss.

“I’m glad. We should go on a date then- a proper one.”

Luocha

Luocha is very good at keeping his feelings to himself. At first, he thought it was just a little crush and it would pass. But it didn’t. It just… kept developing. He tried to manage it, feeling that maybe a relationship right now wasn’t the best option for him. But when his heart would start pounding every time you smiled at him, or his mind went back to you and what you might’ve been doing when you two were apart told me he… maybe didn’t wanna wait.

Luocha’s confession wasn’t exactly grand. I mean, what was there to be super grand about? Especially if you were going to reject him. So he just took you out on a little walk and slyly brought up the topic of relationships. Once you mentioned you didn’t mind being in one, he just said, “will you be in one with me?”

You kinda froze. Deer in headlights situation. You needed a moment to process what he’d just said. He… wanted to date you? WELL GOOD! YOU WANTED TO DATE HIM! You happily nodded, a big giant smile spreading on your face.

There was this emotion he felt when you said you liked him too. Pure, unadulterated happiness. He felt so good about himself, about life, about everything. That emotion spoke volumes and all he could do was hug you. Tightly.

"I'm glad... because I was really, really nervous you'd say no."

Blade

Ok… hear me out. Blade knows he likes you… when he doesn’t hate you. When you ask him for a favor and he says yes. When you hug him and he doesn’t strangle you- honestly, it wasn’t hard for him to know. Kafka teases him and he just ignores her.

Blade… doesn’t know how to confess. He’s not crazy about relationships or… people. So his entire confession was just confusing. You followed absolutely nothing except: “I like you.” You thought he was just admitting he didn’t hate you. That was good news! But you didn’t realize how good it was. “That’s great! I like you too!” You replied to which he crossed his arms, nodded, and said… “we’re dating now.”

Mhm. Yeah. That’s how smooth he is :’) you- you poor soul- didn’t know what he meant at first. So you were beyond shocked when he said what he did. Blade- BLADE- liked you- Y O U- romantically? You liked him too but you never ever expected this. Not in a million years.

You could only manage a dazed nod for a few seconds before a giant smile spread on your face and you practically threw yourself at him. Blade’s usual reaction would be to shove the person away but this was his special person. So… he hugged back.

“That was… rude, I think? Will you go on a date with me?”

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #luocha x reader #gepard x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #🖊─ pocky’s writings

2K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 2) | Part 1

WC: 7.0K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie is happy to teach you everything he knows about DnD, he just wishes you weren't so goddamn distracting

Contents/Warnings: eddie n wayne, besties forever <3 very very fluffy lots of yearning and ridiculously cheesy moments, lovesick!eddie, reader wears a skirt and eddie's hellfire shirt from part 1, suggestive material, but still minor-friendly (part three will not be)

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Christ on a cracker, son,” Wayne swears, nearly pushed to the ground as Eddie slams the trailer door open, “Calm down.”

“Sorry Wayne!” Eddie barely takes a second to breathe before he flies through the space, feet pounding on the matted carpet of the trailer as he races to his bedroom.

“What’s the rush?” Wayne is well aware of his nephew’s recreational habits, as well as his business endeavors, and shudders to think that there might be some drug-crazed lunatic after the boy.

But Eddie pops his wide-eyed face out from his bedroom only seconds later, shirt and pants torn off to leave him in his boxers as he darts for the shower, “There’s a girl coming over.”

That’s a new one. Wayne has heard a few feminine voices outside the trailer before, when they’re out of stock and need replenishing, but Eddie never showers for them. He probably should, Wayne always tells the boy that if he stinks any worse he’ll have to move out, but he’s never shown an interest until now.

“And,” Wayne peers into the bathroom, seeing Eddie frantically combing out his hair, the plastic nearly snapping under the pressure he’s putting on it, “This is a special girl?”

“I- I don’t know,” Eddie huffs, his crazed panic still alive as he whirls around the bathroom for a clean towel, “Sort of. I don’t really know her yet.”

“Y’know ‘er enough to care.” Wayne prompts him, and Eddie deflates slightly. He’s looking in the mirror, trying to part his hair neatly so that he can wash it easier. He stops, his hands falling from his head to his sides as he stares hard at his reflection.

“I want to impress her.” Eddie admits, his usual self-assuredness now gone, “Or- impress isn’t right,” He puzzles for a moment, his eyes drifting over his features, “Just- I don’t want to scare her away.”

“Well I think it’s good you’re showering then,” Wayne lightens the mood, “‘Not sure she could handle your B.O.”

“Shut up,” Eddie takes the out, shoving at his uncle’s shoulder with no real force, “I’m gonna order pizza for us. She wants to learn how to play DnD.”

Wayne’s eyebrows skyrocket, “She wants to learn? Or have you kidnapped and brainwashed her like those basketball players tell me you do?”

“She’s under my control,” Eddie rasps, his voice thick in his throat.

Wayne snorts, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, “Alright, boy. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need help getting ready for tonight, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, flashing his signature grin at his uncle before he shuts the door.

Wayne watches the closed door with something light and airy filling his chest, maybe laughing gas at the way he chortles hearing Eddie drop the comb into the sink for the tenth time since he started. Then he turns, and the reality of their home hits him.

It’s messy.

Far too messy to accept company, which is why the pair hasn’t for years. Aside from Eddie’s trusted friends, all of whom are far too sloppy themselves to bat an eye at the general clutter around the trailer, no one has set foot in their space for five long years.

Now, he’s all for encouraging Eddie to be himself, that if someone doesn’t like who he is, then they’re not fit for a friend. But he’s sure that you’re far too important to Eddie for that test just yet, and he’s not sure he wants you to get to know his nephew as messy when there’s so many other qualities he possesses. That’s something you can discover later, when you’re hooked on his charm and wit and won’t mind stepping on a pair of boxers or two to get down the hallway. He gets to work clearing away mindless clutter, collecting shirts strewn over the furniture and paper plates tucked under the couch.

By the time Eddie finishes showering (and falling, twice), Wayne has the entire living room de-cluttered, although most of the loose papers and items have made their way onto the kitchen table instead of being put in their places. Eddie steps out of the bathroom, towel tucked around his waist and a hand in his curls, dragging his fingers through the wet tangles, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Shit,” He breathes, watching his uncle crouch to tug an empty beer can out from behind the door and stuff it into the trash bag he’s got going, “Wayne, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” Wayne states the obvious, raising an eyebrow unimpressed at his nephew’s cognitive skills, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Are-” Eddie stops combing through his hair, standing limply in front of his uncle, “Are you doing this ‘cause Y/N’s coming over?”

“That’s her name?” Wayne smiles, “‘S a pretty one.”

“You are,” Eddie marvels, “Uh, thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne’s hands and knees burn against the scratchy carpet, the beer can in his hands sharp from being crushed. He stands, the worn fabric of his flannel falling limp against his distressed jeans. He stands there, tattered and messy, looking at the way Eddie’s cleaned himself up.

He’s wearing a tank top, a KISS shirt that he was gifted on his tenth birthday. It’s got tour dates on the back, one of which Wayne took Eddie to as a present. Apparently it didn’t look good enough as a t-shirt though, because the boy had taken scissors to it a few years back, carving out holes the size of craters that expose part of his side.

His hair is bundled up in a bun atop his head, scrunched up and crimping itself while it dries. He always tells Eddie not to do that, to leave it down so that each strand can dry individually, but Eddie hates the feeling of wet hair on his skin, so he pulls it up and leaves it sitting until he can blow-dry it.

The same ripped jeans he’d worn to school are back on his waist, belt cinched tight around him with his handcuffs pinned there. Wayne always tells him he’ll confuse someone, make them think he’s an undercover cop, but Eddie only laughs at him. There’s a chain hooked through his belt that rests on his hip, dipping close to his knee and gleaming in the artificial light above them.

There’s two necklaces bouncing against his chest as he walks over to help Wayne with the overflowing trash bag, his typical guitar pick and a dog tag he’d found in the street one day. It says Sprinkles on one side, but Eddie swears that it looks metal if he turns it the other way, the owner’s number stamped across it.

He has an earring in. Eddie almost never puts an earring in, because his at-home ear piercing hadn’t produced the most sanitary results. He says it burns when he wears earrings, but here he is, a heavy silver hoop through one ear and a black cuff pinched tight at the helix of the other.

Wayne looks at his nephew, his boy, and pride surges through his chest. Pride, a little bit of awe, and happiness. He cares. This is something Eddie really cares about, you are something Eddie really cares about, and it’s obvious by the things he’s done for you before you’ve even come over. Eddie has always cared, perhaps a bit too much, and it’s easy to tell when he does from the little things he pieces together to show it.

“You look good, boy.” Wayne breaks the careful silence the two had slipped into, watching Eddie tug the straps to the garbage bag. He reddens slightly, his cheeks flaring in color, something akin to the shade of the tomato soup he’d managed to botch for last thursday’s dinner. How the boy had undercooked a can of soup, he’d never know.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie mumbles, forearms flexing as he ties a knot into the strings of the garbage bag, “I’ll take this out.”

“We should start on your room,” Wayne points out as Eddie tries making his frantic exit, spooked by praise. Eddie nods once, and Wayne lets him escape to the dumpster to process the emotions he’s got swirling inside of him.

He knows the boy gets shy around praise, which is why he tries not to overwhelm him. But today is different, today is a bigger step than he’s seen Eddie take in a long time, and it’s hard not to burst with pride.

When Eddie comes back inside Wayne is already tiptoeing around his room, dodging suspicious socks and cassette tapes strewn about. Eddie gets to work stacking those, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they set to work.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s voice is timid, meek.

“Yeah?” Wayne reaches under his bed, pulling out a magazine that he shouldn’t have and a sock, something Wayne doesn’t want to think about as a pair.

“Do you.. Do you really think I look nice?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stammering, shaking his head so that his bun wobbles dangerously, “I- I mean, like- not like nice, but do you… you think she’ll like it?”

“Son, if she asked you to teach her about your game, I’m sure she’s not scared of you.”

“But is that enough? Shouldn’t she,” Eddie abandons the cassettes in his hand, scratching bashfully at the back of his neck and combing through the stray hairs there, “I dunno, like me? Not just not hate me?”

“Well I’d give her some time if I were you,” Wayne chuckles, reminded of the restlessness of youth, “You’ve only known her a day.”

“Right.” Eddie nods frantically, eyes glued to the tapes he busies himself with again, “Yeah, I will.”

“Hey,” Wayne reaches out, bracing a hand on Eddie’s knee that’s bouncing frantically, “You’ve got this, boy. You can do this. She’ll love you.”

The word love has Eddie’s cheeks flaring the color of it, a deep red that Wayne sees most often on valentine’s day cards. He chuckles once more at his nephew’s crush, shaking his head and getting back to sorting through clutter.

By the time Eddie’s watch beeps, a tinny, mechanical sound that has him leaping onto his feet to rush for the door, they’ve gotten his room mostly under control. There’s a pile of dirty laundry stull bulging out of the closet, but that can’t be avoided, as the hamper is broken from a rather unfortunate sledding endeavor a few months back. You’ll just have to live with the sight of yesterday’s t-shirt in the corner, they decide.

“Okay, uh- thanks, Wayne.” Eddie brushes his hands on his pants, already sweaty from nerves, “I’m gonna go pick her up now.”

“Right,” Wayne stands, trash bag in hand with all of Eddie’s discarded food wrappers and beer cans, “Good luck, son.”

The term flares up Eddie’s blush again, but Wayne doesn’t comment on it, offering him a quick hug, a simple pat to the back. It’s all Eddie can handle right now, already a bundle of nerves that he doesn’t want spilling out.

“There’s a $10 on the fridge,” Wayne calls out after Eddie bounds down the steps of the trailer,tugging the rubber band out of his hair and letting it spill over his shoulders, “Use it for pizza!”

“No, no,” Eddie waves his uncle off, plunging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “I got it!”

“Eddie,” Wayne glares at the stubborn boy, “Use the money on the fridge.”

Eddie balks at the aggressively kind gesture, but a wry smile curves over his lips, “Whatever. I’ll just sneak cash into your jacket while you’re asleep.”

“You will not,” Wayne huffs, but Eddie’s already taken off for his van, slamming the door behind him with a hearty laugh at his uncle’s grouchiness.

When Eddie pulls up to your house, having checked the little slip of paper buried in his pocket, oh, around a thousand times, one of the upstairs lights is on. It’s the only one on, the rest of the windows pitch black, and Eddie worries that maybe something is wrong. Your house looks near abandoned, but at the rough chugchugchugging of his engine, a downstairs light flicks on. He catches your silhouette thumping down the stairs and sees the outline of a skirt over your hips. His stomach flips and he shuts off the van, hurrying out so that he can beat you to the door. It seems gentlemanly, something he’s never been too concerned about, but it feels right in the moment.

He’s inches from the door as you wrench it open, a fist raised to knock while you step out of it, not expecting him there on the other side. Your eyes widen but you can’t stop your momentum, stumbling clumsily into his chest despite your efforts to slow down.

“Oh!”

“Eddie!” You speak in unison, your voices mingling just as your limbs do. His arms wind around your waist, laying over his hellfire shirt that you’ve tucked into the waistband of your skirt. The material is soft under his touch, but not as soft as your face, which hits his shoulder in your scuffle. Eddie feels a burst of warmth flood through him at the skin-on-skin contact, and holds you steady as you right yourself against his chest. Your hands brace themselves frantically on his stomach, your chest heaving as you gape at him, “I’m so sorry! I- I wasn’t paying attention, I just heard you coming, and- and,”

“If you were that excited to see me,” Eddie doesn’t know how he’s being as suave as he is, because his heart is practically hammering through his ribcage to affix itself to you like a lovesick leech, “You could have asked me to come earlier.”

You feel your cheeks flare with heat as you slump forwards, the crown of your head hitting Eddie’s clothed chest, “Stoooop.”

Eddie chuckles, adjusting the pitch of his voice to your own, “Stoooop.”

“You’re mocking me!” You shove at him lightly, making him stumble a step backwards, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” Eddie finally lets you go, his skin instantly cold where it had once touched yours, “You gotta be nice to me. I’m teaching you DnD, remember?”

“Fine,” You huff dramatically, “You get a pass, but only for tonight!”

“Deal.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with mischief, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You confirm, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“Van’s there,” Eddie gestures to his van, nearly tripping over his own feet when you grab his hand, eagerly tugging him along, “Woah!”

“I told you I was ready.” You gush, the words coming out in a soft giggle that makes his heart burst.

You look out of place in his van, too heavenly to be wriggling comfortably into his worn seats. There’s a half-drunk water bottle by your feet that crunches beneath your shoe, and you apologize hurriedly for crushing it.

“‘S okay sweetheart,” Eddie snickers, reaching down to pluck it out from under your feet, “It’s, like, months old.”

“Eddie,” You chide, “It’s probably growing something!”

“It’s fine,” He urges, snickering at your horror, “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

He leaves you with that, shutting the door to your side of the car and jogging around to the driver’s side door. He wrenches it open, his hair bouncing against his chest as he sits down with a flounce. The radio that he has is already preloaded with the cassette tape he uses whenever he drives Wayne anywhere, his favorite metal artists and their less-overwhelming songs. Wayne always says heavy metal ‘makes his ears bleed’, he’s more into classic rock, but Eddie will be damned if he isn't listening to Mötley Crüe on any drive longer than two minutes. He figures that he’ll be courteous to you at first, just in case metal isn’t your thing either.

To his surprise, a minute into Merry Go Round, your brow dips in concentration.

“Mötley Crüe, right?”

Eddie swears he nearly passes out. His usual response to surprising information, a dramatic flailing of his limbs, doesn’t seem very safe just now, and you’re lucky he doesn’t jerk the wheel to the side.

“Yeah,” He grins dazedly, “You listen?”

“Sometimes!” You pick at a loose thread on your skirt, “I’m into a bit of everything. Really jus’ whatever comes on the radio.”

Eddie suddenly likes you more, if possible. Everything new that he learns about you only adds to the little list of Reasons he Cares, the first and most important being that you’re kind to him. He would never admit it, but he’s like a little lost puppy, trailing after the first person to scratch behind his ears.

“I like your van.” You muse, and it’s so genuinely sweet it nearly makes Eddie scream. You brush your fingers over a Black Sabbath sticker that’s peeling off of the dash, reaffixing the dusty backing to the smooth plastic. It doesn’t stay, it pops right back up again, but you’re onto the next detail now, a pair of old sneakers in the door, autographed by the patrons that watch him perform with his band.

“These are cool,” You marvel at the sloppy, mostly-drunken signatures scrawled over the canvas, “Who are they?”

“Our fans,” Eddie boasts proudly, even though he’s sure seven hammered 40 year olds aren’t the most impressive thing in the world when it comes to an audience, “They watch us perform, remember my band I told you about?”

Eddie watches your eyes light up from the rear-view mirror, but you’re lucky he doesn’t take his eyes off the road completely to see them unfiltered.

“That’s right!” You remember your earlier conversation, “That’s so cool, Eddie, you’ve got fans!”

“We do,” He chuckles, fingers sweating against the steering wheel as you near his trailer, “You should come to one of our shows sometime.”

“If I do, do I get to sign the sneakers?” You’re far too excited to put your name on a pair of ratty old shoes, repurposed as a trophy, but Eddie would be willing to buy a new pair just so that your name can be the only one on the fabric. He thinks about that, about having your name displayed over him, and blushes. He hopes you don’t catch it.

“Of course you can,” Eddie promises, turning much more carefully than he normally does into his typical parking spot, the van sputtering to a stop when he removes the key. He turns to you before you open the door, “How about this saturday?”

“Next,” You compromise, “My parents get back Saturday night and I can’t be out without them knowing.”

“Your parents are gone?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, crimped hair bouncing as he does.

“They’re getting the last of our stuff from our old house,” You nod solemnly, “We don’t even have mattresses here yet.”

“No shit? What have you been sleeping on?”

“The couch,” You recount sadly, “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”

“Damn,” Eddie sympathizes, yanking on the latch of his door and hopping down, “Well, babe, I’ve got a mattress inside, if you’re interested in staying the night.”

It’s bold, brazen, uncouth, but he tops it off with a teasing grin, so it’s okay. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, happy that it mostly filled the empty van as he slams his door, rounding the front to open your own for you.

“Very gentlemanly,” You praise him, slipping your hand into his to step down from the lifted van, “I’m impressed.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” He teases, squeezing you against his side with a hand that drifts suspiciously low, “I’m not usually this nice.”

“I must be special.” You concur, giddiness in your grin that sends Eddie’s stomach into a cartwheel.

You are, Eddie nods once at you, afraid to voice his thoughts in case they somehow ruin the unspoken adoration between you, More than you know.

Eddie’s pleased to find nothing but a slight oil stain in Wayne’s usual parking spot, his uncle having predicted that Eddie would want alone time with you. He’s half expecting to find a box of condoms on the kitchen counter when he walks in with you, but flicking on the light of the trailer reveals only a spotless living space, junk shoved in drawers to be dealt with later.

“I like it.” You decide with a curt nod, eyes landing on the array of DnD paraphernalia stacked on the couch, “Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you this.”

You reach into the waistband of your skirt, the slim paperback book you were reading earlier neatly molded to your side. It doesn’t retain the curve of your side, flattening back out into its shape as you hold it out to Eddie.

You swear you catch his eyes wandering towards the spot that you’d just pulled the book from, but they snap up to meet your own before you can verify it. He takes the book from you with an eager grin, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Y’wanna swap?” You stride over to the couch, plucking a book titled Players Handbook: Compiled Information for Players and Dungeon Masters out of the pile.

Eddie falters slightly, surprised that you’re so eager to get into what might be the least exciting part of learning DnD: the rules.

“Sure,” He nods carefully, taken aback, “Lemme just clear the couch.”

He bends over to do so, and you can’t help that your eyes trace the newly-exposed skin of his chest. The shirt he’s wearing already reveals his side, but as his arms stretch to grab boxes and papers off of the cushions in front of you, it shifts to show his stomach.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he stops in front of you, an eyebrow raised that you don’t catch because you’re ogling him.

“Everything okay?” To your horror, there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice, and you’re certain he’s caught you.

“Yes!” You scramble to act casual, thumbing past the cover of the book to appear busy, “Yes, let’s get started.”

Eddie sits before you do, surveying you with that same cocky gaze. It makes you nervous, your stomach churning slightly, and you perch on the end of the couch that he’s not spread out over.

He lets out a scoff, reaching out, “You can get comfortable, Y/N, I don’t bite.”

He does, however, grab, which you find out when he yanks your legs out from under you, tugging them outwards so that they rest over his lap. He’s reclined against both the arm of the couch and the back cushion of it, looking far too composed for the rampage of butterflies against his stomach.

You melt into your new position so naturally that it scares you. It feels right, cracking the spine of the handbook while your legs are draped casually over Eddie’s lap. Stretching out and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch seems just as casual as it does on your couch, and you can’t help the dizzy grin that spreads over your face as you realize this.

“Somethin’ funny?” Eddie’s brow quirks at your expression, and you bury it behind the book, shaking your head.

“Right,” He sets a hand over your ankles, locking your legs into their position on his lap, “Lemme know if you’re confused, babe, I’m here to help.”

Though the DnD handbook is informative, and slightly exhilarating to peruse, you hope that the actual gameplay is less complicated than it sounds. You’re barely twenty pages in, a good 40 minutes gone by, and you’re not sure you can keep all of the information straight in your head. Hopefully Eddie cuts you some slack, or else you might seriously slow down their game.

"Page?" Eddie glances up from the pages of your novel, peering over at the handbook in your grip.

You look to the corner of the page from where you'd been reading up on character classes, "23."

"The Fighter." He speaks in a low voice, raspy and dramatic. You giggle, half amused by his theatrics and half impressed that he's managed to memorize the 130-page handbook in front of you.

"What about you?" You glance pointedly at the book in his hands, shifting your feet in his lap slightly. You don't realize it, but they press against a rather sensitive spot, and Eddie hunches slightly, his stomach caving in as he tries remaining composed.

"Uh," His eyes frantically skim the page, wide and panicked until they lock on a familiar name, "Weylin- Weylin is just, uh, crossing over the Bridge of Lost Souls."

"Ooh," You wriggle slightly in your place on the couch, consequently burrowing your feet further into Eddie's lap, "I love that part! You meet Ionia soon, you'll love her!"

He can’t take it anymore.

“Uh,” He shoots off of the couch, lowering your feet carefully back down to the cushions where he was sitting, “I’m getting kinda hungry. Pizza time?”

“Pizza time.” You nod jovially, flipping a page in the handbook, seemingly unconscious of Eddie’s predicament, “Pepperoni?”

“And sausage.” Eddie nods, “Be right back.”

When he comes back, tugging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to use for the food and pointedly avoiding his uncle’s money, you tuck your legs up under you to set him sit down. He peers over the top of the handbook, eyes drifting to the words appearing upside-down in front of his face.

His nose hooks over the tops of the pages, and you can’t help it: you giggle. He glances up amusedly at you, his own sweet laugh filling the air as he crumples into your lap. You raise the book over your head so that he doesn’t have to slip under it, and his eyes meet yours from where he lays on your legs.

You stare down at him, entranced by his features. His soft cheeks, his sloped nose, the tinge of red that spreads over his skin. His eyes, shiny and smooth, like melted chocolate that you can taste on your tongue. You brush a hand over his forehead, gathering up loose flyaway hairs that have gathered there. They’re malleable and wiry in your grip, and you twirl them around your finger once, twice, thrice, until they form a spiraled curl.

His eyes follow your finger, doe-like as they cross to track your movement. When you let the hair go it springs off of your finger, bouncing down to rest over his nose, and his eyes dart inwards to follow it.

Apparently it tickles his nose, because he scrunches it up, miniscule wrinkles etched like waterways on a map into his skin. You smooth the terrain, running the soft pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose and marveling how his face relaxes as your touch waves over it.

He shivers slightly under your finger, and you notice a bridge of freckles, the lightest you’ve ever seen, dotting his nose. They stand strong over all of the rivers you have yet to flatten, stretching down towards his mouth in beautiful smile lines.

“You’re pretty.” You muse, your voice barely more than a whisper as you trace his features. He lets his eyes flutter shut when your fingers brush under them, his lashes tickling your skin.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He coos, the softness of his voice gaping that growing sinkhole of adoration that’s been tugging at your chest ever since you met him. His pretty face, his sweet words, his kind actions, all of them mark him as safe, as good, as loveable.

With his eyes closed, you’re allowed to be as obvious as you want when ogling him, not that you were very subtle before. Your eyes latch onto his lips in a similar fashion as you want your own to do, roving over every crease, mark, and indent in the soft, pillowy muscles.

Before you can think about it, you touch them. Your fingers, their pads soft and hesitant, prod gently at his lips. That has his eyes shooting open, carmeled brown irises meeting yours in shock.

Though you feel his gaze on you, you don’t stop. You let your hands linger on his face, soaking up every second of dazzlingly intimate contact you can get with the man. He studies your face while you study his, the both of you barely breathing while watching the other sit pretty. You swear you feel Eddie’s lips shift under your fingers, puckering ever-so-slightly to kiss the tips of your fingers, but then-

The hollow, sharp knock on the door of Eddie’s trailer shatters the intimacy of the moment, plunging you back into reality from the serene haze you’d been trapped in. You both fall from the clouds you’d lounged atop, plummeting back to earth with the thump of your hearts in your chests.

“I’ll get it,” Eddie scrambles up from where he’s draped over your lap, rushing to the door and snatching the cash off of the counter. You straighten yourself out while he grabs the pizza, cheeks aflame as you look around the room to avoid looking at him. You see a stack of vhs movies in the corner by the television set, and your eyes catch a familiar title.

Labyrinth.

“Okay,” Eddie sets the pizza on the counter, grateful for the paper plates the place provided you, “One slice or two?”

“Two,” You grin eagerly, reaching for the tape, “Are you the reason this was missing from the video store yesterday?”

He laughs at the sight of the VHS in your hands, “Yep, ‘had it since it came out.”

“Rude,” You scoff, “I wanted to watch it last night!”

“Bummer,” Eddie scrunches his brows, faux-sympathy written on his face, “‘Guess you’ll just have to come over whenever you wanna watch it.”

“Well I’m here now…” You push, clutching the case hopefully.

“Pop it in,” Eddie laughs, gesturing towards the machine, “‘Should be rewound already.”

You kneel by the VHS player while Eddie brings your plates over, and your back faces him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to ogle you, only feeling slightly guilty when his eyes trace the curve of your ass.

You turn before he can admire how the Hellfire shirt exposes the angles of your shoulders, abandoning its post and leaving your neck bare. He watches the skin there shift, muscles beneath the surface tensing as you crane it downwards to slide the tape into the receiver.

“We’ll work more on DnD later,” Eddie promises as the main titles roll, music filling the otherwise silent trailer, “We’ve still gotta get a character figured out for you.”

“‘M excited,” You speak through a mouthful of greasy pizza, pepperoni sticking to your lip, “Thanks for the pizza, Eddie.”

“‘Course sweetheart,” He grins at you, then hides his blush in the red tomato sauce on his bread.

Eddie truly believes that you’ll go over more later for the game. But when you finish both slices of your pizza, hands covering your stomach tenderly as he’s sure it’s stuffed, and curl up against the arm of the couch, he knows nothing else is getting done tonight. Your eyes are glued to the screen, Sarah’s dress glittering as her hair flounces with every movement of the couple. He’s never been a Bowie fan, but he reckons you are by the way your eyes shine whenever he’s on screen.

He’s jealous of David Bowie.

Oh, fuck, he never thought he’d sink this low. But he feels something unfamiliar and sharp prod at his chest whenever you pay just a little too much attention to the man on screen, and he prods at your feet with his own.

“Hoggin’ the couch,” He chides you, with no real scorn as he tangles his legs with yours, “Stretched out like you own the place.”

“Sor-ry,” You huff dramatically, clocking his teasing grin and knowing he’s just messing around, “It’s not my fault your couch is comfier than mine.”

Eddie remembers your admission, that you’ve been sleeping on your couch for god-knows-how-long, and his stomach sours. He studies your face, the way that your eyelids droop even though you’re clearly enjoying the movie, the wrinkling of your chin as you yawn. You’re clearly exhausted, and his space is the comfort you need.

He feels something akin to pride at that. You not only feel comfortable enough around him to curl up on his couch, but you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He might be new at this, the whole relationship thing, but he knows that’s big.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel such a large blade of jealousy stabbing at his heart anymore, because you’re not cuddled up to David Bowie on David Bowie’s couch, are you? No. You’re curled up with him, on his couch.

Take that, Bowie.

It’s around the one-and-a-half hour mark, only ten minutes before the movie ends, that he realizes he’s the only one watching. He’s been glancing back and forth between the screen and you for ages now, but when he checks up on you this time, you’re asleep. He can see your chest rising and falling, his shirt still worn proudly over your frame, and a sleepy smile curves over his face. Your lashes kiss your cheeks, casting shadows down your face that look like spiderwebs. It looks cool, and he makes a mental note to ask you if you’d let him put eyeliner on you to see if he can turn it into a spiderweb. It’s a design he’s been meaning to do on himself, but if he needs a model, why would you turn him down?

The end of the movie isn’t so entrancing to him anymore now that you’re snoozing, and once more he lets his eyes drift over your frame. Your skirt is tucked neatly under your bum, but your thighs peek out of it, soft and plumped by the way you’re laying. Then his eyes rove over your shirt, the familiar, hand-crafted design looking better on you than it ever has on him or his friends. It’s odd, seeing the shirt on anyone but the boys in his friend group, but he quickly decides that it’s his favorite outfit of yours, and that nothing in the world could top it.

The end credits announce themselves in an encore of the film’s soundtrack, and Eddie reluctantly parts from the cozy embrace you’ve found yourself in. He ejects the tape, stuffing it back into its case and tucking it carefully back onto the stack. Now that he knows it’s his ticket to time spent with you, he’s much more reluctant to take it back to Family Video tomorrow like he’d planned. Maybe he’ll keep it, late fee be damned.

“Y/N,” He hates the thought of waking you, but he hates the thought of inconveniencing his uncle even more, and you’re curled up on what will become Wayne’s pull-out.

“Y/N,” He tries again, soft and soothing as he taps your shoulder gently, “Wake up, we’ve gotta get you home.”

The clock only reads 10:23, but he’d feel guilty getting you home at an indecent hour. Typically, Eddie’s philosophy is etiquette be damned, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about being dumped on your front porch after two in the morning.

“Y/N,” He slips a hand under your torso, his other sliding under your legs, “C’mon, wake up.”

You don’t. You must have really had trouble sleeping on your couch, because now that you’re dozing off, you don’t seem to wake up easily. Worry gnaws at Eddie’s chest as he hoists you into his arms and you don’t wake, only sighing contentedly and curling closer to him.

His eyes widen and his cheeks burn as you snuggle up to him unconsciously, your cheek pressed against his KISS-clad chest. Your nose nudges into his neck and he swears he sees stars, his knees weakening at the intimate contact like you hadn’t just been touching his lips hours beforehand.

“‘Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, voice devoid of any real anger as he trudges down the hall to his room. His bed is neatly made, pillows stacked at the head that he reaches up and kicks down with one of his socked feet. It flops flat onto the mattress with a thump, and Eddie lowers you as carefully as humanly possible onto the bed. You aren’t too keen to let go, though, because your arms stay tightly wound around his neck. He tries straightening but you come right back up with him, brows scrunching in displeasure at being jostled around.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, lovestruck, “‘Gotta let go.”

“Eddie,” You mumble hazily, sound far too much like a lover he’s just accidentally jostled by getting out of bed to get ready for work in the morning, “Don’ go.”

“I can’t leave you here,” He reasons, returning your favor and smoothing out the wrinkle in your brows with his thumb, “I’ve gotta grab my keys and shoes, then we’ll take you home.”

“Nooo,” You whine, sleep tugging at your voice, “‘S too cozy here. I don’t wanna leave.”

“But no one knows you’re staying here,” Eddie’s afraid that your parents might come home early, discover their child missing, and storm his trailer with pitchforks, “Don’t you wanna head back home to your own bed?”

"Couch.” You mumble grouchily, “My parents aren't home," Your voice is groggy and weak, but Eddie swears it's more angelic than any hymn he's ever heard, "'S okay."

"Are you sure?" He reaches up, smooths a hand over your forehead then down your cheek without thinking, but before he can panic over the intimate gesture you're leaning into it, letting out a contented hum that quite reminds him of a kitten's purr.

"'M sure," You promise, already curling up cozily beneath his blanket, looking far too natural and perfect in a space you'd never occupied before, and Eddie feared, never would again.

"Okay." He's breathless and weak as your eyes drift shut, his hand lingering against the curve of your face, "G'night sweetheart."

He isn’t sure what to do from there. He could move his hand, he probably should move his hand, so that he doesn’t stand there for hours holding you, but that seems all the more tempting with every passing second. He marvels at his luck, how he’s managed to get to heaven without dying. Unless he is dead. But he’s almost certain he’ll be sent to hell for the sheer amount of drugs he’s sold to high school students, so he’s sure it isn’t that.

You must be an angel, he decides, one that isn’t afraid of the devil everyone says he is. He gets a brief vision of matching halloween costumes to that effect, a wiry halo perched on your head while devil ears adorn his. The scene’s unfiltered domesticity stuns him, along with how perfect it feels. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced, instead like something you’d come up with on the phone at ungodly hours and commit to months before the holiday.

He’ll bring the idea up to you tomorrow.

For now, he has to figure out where he’s sleeping. He’s not taking Wayne’s bed, but you’re in his, and that would be wrong.

Right?

Eddie studies the way your body is laid out on his mattress, knees tucked towards your chest and arms bundled up below your face, clutching the blanket he’d thrown over you. You take up a fraction of the mattress, the side that he normally sleeps on still unobscured.

Would it really be that bad if he laid opposite you? He wouldn’t touch you, he wouldn’t throw an arm over your waist, he wouldn’t tangle his legs with yours, he wouldn’t press a soft kiss to your forehead before drifting off. He wouldn’t.

He wants to, though.

He gives into another temptation, hopefully his last for the night, and lets himself indulge in your presence. He slides onto the end of the mattress, careful not to disrupt you as you slumber.

It feels weird, having someone in his bed beside him. Weird, but good. He decides, in fact, that there’s no better feeling aside from your fingers on his lips, than you in bed beside him. He stares up at the ceiling, willing the urge to kiss your nose away before he can screw up the best thing that’s happened to him in years.

One single, cautious glance thrown your way, and it’s all over.

Your hand is bared towards him, the smooth skin on the back of it in perfect kissing-range. He would be an idiot not to, right? That’s what gentlemen do, after all, they kiss the back of their lady’s hand. Typically not without her knowledge, or while she’s in bed with him, but it’s the principle of it, not the specific scenario.

He reaches for your hand hesitantly, and once his skin brushes yours he sees fireworks that light up the dark room. They nearly short out his vision, and when he sees clearly again, your hand is poised directly in front of his lips, his own hand still clutching it securely.

“Sleep good, sweetheart.” He whispers, near-inaudible in the darkness, then his lips press delicately against your hand.

Such unimaginable warmth and giddiness fill his chest, that he’s sure he’ll explode. There’s going to be Eddie Guts on the walls and ceiling, rotted sickly sweet from how infatuated with you he’s become in such a short time. Kissing you, albeit only your hand, feels like something he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he can only hope you’re gracious enough to grant him that privilege.

That’s a discussion for the morning, though, or never, Eddie reminds himself. He’s just kissed your hand in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping like a creep, he might not be too eager to admit that to you in the morning in a desperate plea to do it again. He refrains from peppering the rest of your skin in adoring kisses, but keeps your hand clutched in his own, marveling at the way that you can warm him up completely from a single touch.

It must be an angel thing, he decides, as he drifts off into a happy slumber, tomorrow he’ll ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!