#and i gotta remain composed for another few hours

[exponentchunk]

Damsel

Thrawn x fem!reader

No warning just reader being a flirt and it’s hella long.

**This is my first fic I have ever written so PLEASE be gentle with me lmao**

*This was base of a dream I had and the story between my oc and Thrawn but I changed it so all could enjoy!*

The warmth of the academy lounge was a welcome reprieve from the biting winter wind outside. Cadets gathered in groups, the buzz of laughter and conversation filling the air as they relished the start of winter break. At a corner table, Thrawn and Eli sat with (y/n), their conversation a curious mix of formality and casual banter.

(y/n) leaned forward slightly, her smile warm as she addressed the two. “So, what do you both have planned for the break? Any big adventures?”

Eli chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing too exciting. Maybe catch up on some reading or explore the city a bit. What about you?”

“I was thinking about heading out with some friends tonight,” (y/n) replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “It’s been a long semester, and we could all use a little fun.”

Thrawn observed her quietly, his expression as composed as ever. “And how do you define ‘fun,’ Cadet?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

(y/n) tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’ll see if you come along,” she teased.

Before either of them could respond, another voice chimed in from across the room.

“(y/n)! (y/n)! Come on, we need to get ready for tonight!” a girl calls out, rushing toward (y/n).

Thrawn observes the interaction curiously, his sharp gaze following the girl’s approach.

Eli glances between them, intrigued. “What’s happening tonight?”

(y/n) smiles. “It’s winter break, so a bunch of our classmates are going out dancing.”

Thrawn’s brows furrow slightly, his expression remaining composed but betraying his disinterest in the concept of “dancing.” Eli, on the other hand, perks up.

“Dancing, huh? Got a specific place in mind?” he asks, his enthusiasm apparent.

“Yeah, 79’s! You guys should come. It’s a great way to meet people!” (y/n) replies cheerfully.

Thrawn’s expression remains stoic, though inwardly, he cringes at the idea of attending such an event. Eli, however, grins.

“79’s? Sounds like fun. We might have to check it out.”

(y/n)’s friend tugs on her arm. “(y/n), hurry up!”

(y/n) glances back at Thrawn and Eli. “I gotta go, but I hope to see you both there!” She flashes a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Thrawn for a moment before she rushes off.

Thrawn nods politely, his face revealing nothing. Eli gives her a genuine smile.

“We’ll think about it,” Eli promises.

Thrawn watches her leave, a small, reluctant spark of curiosity stirring within him at the idea of seeing her outside their usual environment.

Eli notices the flicker of interest in Thrawn’s otherwise impassive demeanor. “You don’t look too excited about dancing,” Eli teases.

Thrawn exhales lightly. “I find little appeal in such frivolous social engagements.”

Eli chuckles. “You might be surprised. It could be… enlightening to observe our classmates in a more relaxed setting.”

Thrawn raises a brow, sensing there’s more to Eli’s suggestion than meets the eye. “How so?”

Eli shrugs, a sly smile forming. “Let’s just say you might gain some interesting insights—especially about Cadet (y/n).”

Thrawn’s gaze sharpens momentarily, though his expression remains calm. “Indeed. Observing her in a different context could prove… informative.”

Eli grins, satisfied. “That’s the spirit. We’re going.”

A Few Hours Later

(y/n), dressed in a tasteful purple dress that compliments her curves without being ostentatious, dances with her friends at the bar. Her (h/c) hair flows freely as she moves with confident ease.

Thrawn and Eli enter the bustling club, immediately drawing curious glances. Thrawn scans the room with precision, noting the faces and chaotic energy of the scene.

Eli leans in. “See anything interesting?”

Thrawn’s gaze lands on (y/n), her vibrant dress and radiant energy catching his attention. “Yes,” he says simply, his tone calm yet deliberate.

Eli follows his line of sight and smirks. “Looks like she’s having a good time.”

Thrawn doesn’t respond, his eyes lingering on her graceful movements. Despite the noise and chaos, she stands out, exuding a confidence and charm that captivates him.

Noticing her wave in their direction, Thrawn registers a flicker of surprise but offers a polite nod in return.

Eli nudges him playfully. “She saw us.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn replies, his tone measured as he continues to observe her.

Eli, sensing his friend’s intrigue, grins. “You’re staring.”

“I am observing,” Thrawn counters firmly.

Eli chuckles, leaving to grab a drink.

As Thrawn scans the crowd again, he realizes (y/n) is no longer visible. A faint hint of irritation tugs at him, though he maintains his composure.

“Not a fan of large crowds, are you?” (y/n)’s voice startles him from behind.

Thrawn stiffens briefly before turning to see her, an amused glint in her eyes. “Cadet,” he greets, quickly regaining his composure. “What makes you assume that?”

“You seem like the type who’d prefer a quiet library to a nightclub,” (y/n) teases.

Thrawn considers her words, finding them surprisingly accurate. “A fair assessment. The noise and proximity of so many people make it difficult to interpret their behaviors.”

(y/n) tilts her head, intrigued. “Do you struggle with social cues?”

Thrawn’s brow lifts slightly. “You are observant, Cadet. Yes, understanding subtle social dynamics does not come naturally to me.”

“Me neither, sometimes,” (y/n) admits, surprising him. “I overthink them because of my anxiety.”

Thrawn studies her, intrigued by her vulnerability. “So, it is the overanalysis of cues rather than the cues themselves that poses a challenge?”

“Exactly. It depends on the situation. Big crowds or important events make it worse.”

Thrawn nods thoughtfully. “Managing emotional responses in such settings requires discipline. Have you found effective methods?”

“Breathing exercises and meditation have helped a lot,” she replies.

Thrawn’s eyes glint with respect. “An admirable approach. Meditation cultivates clarity and calm—a valuable skill.”

(y/n) smiles. “What’s your ideal night out, then?”

Thrawn pauses. “A tranquil environment conducive to intellectual pursuits or strategic planning. Certainly not one involving flailing limbs and chaotic noise.”

(y/n) laughs softly. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right style of dance yet.”

Thrawn smirks faintly. “Perhaps. But I doubt I would find it efficient.”

“Let’s test that theory,” (y/n) says, finishing her drink and grabbing her coat.

Thrawn hesitates. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you. Trust me,” she replies, her confidence infectious.

Thrawn considers her offer before rising to follow. “Lead the way, Cadet.”

(y/n) leads them out of the bar and into the city, guiding Thrawn through the vibrant nightlife of Coruscant. The bustling streets, alive with activity, stand in stark contrast to the tranquility he prefers, but his curiosity keeps him engaged.

"May I inquire as to where we're headed?" he asks, his deep voice steady.

“No, that’s spoilers,” (y/n) replies with a smirk.

Thrawn raises an eyebrow at her teasing response, intrigued by her secrecy. "Very well," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I shall await the mystery."

(y/n) sighs, looking up at him. “You said flailing limbs and rhythmic shuffling was ‘inefficient.’ I’m going to show you that you’re wrong!”

Thrawn’s smirk grows slightly. "Such confidence, Cadet. I am curious to see how you plan on proving me wrong."

They arrive at the Imperial Ballet, its grand facade illuminated against the night. (y/n) stops to admire the beautiful building. Thrawn pauses beside her, his eyes scanning the intricate architecture.

"Impressive," he remarks. "A place of culture, it seems."

(y/n) glances up at him. “Come on!” she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a nearby alleyway.

Caught off guard, Thrawn allows himself to be led, curiosity flickering in his expression. "Where exactly are we headed?" he asks.

(y/n) reaches the alley, spotting a fire escape ladder that stops just above her head. With a frustrated sigh, she removes her heels and turns to Thrawn. “Give me a boost!”

Thrawn observes her for a moment before stepping forward. "A rather... unconventional path," he notes with a faint trace of amusement. Nevertheless, he cups his hands, ready to lift her. "Up you go, Cadet."

“Don’t look up my dress,” (y/n) jokes, slipping off her heels.

Thrawn rolls his eyes but refrains from looking. "Do you ever stop with the relentless flirting?" he says slightly annoyed.

“Not when it comes to you, Lieutenant,” (y/n) replies with a mischievous smile as she climbs up.

Thrawn shakes his head, faint amusement tugging at his lips. "You are quite bold, I will give you that."

(y/n) disappears through a window, leaving him momentarily alone. He waits patiently until the door below swings open, revealing her triumphant grin.

"Ah, there you are," Thrawn says, his tone even. "What is the purpose of this... secret entrance?"

“I don’t want to pay for a ticket just to prove you wrong. Besides, where we’re going has the best seat in the house,” (y/n) replies with a sly smile.

Thrawn arches an eyebrow, impressed by her audacity. "Ah, so we are trespassing," he remarks, shaking his head. "I should have known."

“It’s not trespassing; it’s appreciating art for free!” (y/n) retorts as she begins climbing another ladder.

Thrawn follows her, his movements precise and quiet. "An interesting perspective on the situation," he says dryly. "I hope your 'appreciation' does not involve breaking more rules."

“Nope, this is it,” (y/n) responds as she perches on a walkway overlooking the stage below.

Thrawn settles beside her, his gaze falling on the ballet performance. "I must confess," he murmurs, "this is not exactly the kind of 'dancing' I had in mind when I made my earlier comment."

Below, a duet unfolds, the male dancer lifting his partner with effortless grace. (y/n) watches, a soft smile on her face. “Not all dances are loud and obnoxious. I thought this would be more your style.”

Thrawn studies the intricate choreography, his keen eyes noting the precision in every movement. "Hm, I stand corrected," he admits reluctantly. "This is... graceful and precise. However, I still maintain that it is inefficient for combat."

“That’s where you’re also wrong. Have you not seen me fight?” (y/n) counters, her tone playful yet confident.

Thrawn leans back slightly, considering her words. "Indeed, I have witnessed your fighting prowess. You move with speed and precision—your combat skills are formidable." He pauses, his gaze shifting back to the dancers. "But tell me, how does something like this, ballet, benefit someone in combat?"

(y/n) gestures toward the female dancer below. “Watch her,” she says with a knowing smile.

Thrawn focuses on the dancer, analyzing her movements. Her footwork is delicate, her balance impeccable, and her control over every motion speaks to immense discipline.

“You study art to learn your opponent’s moves; this is another form of art. So study it,” (y/n) explains.

Thrawn nods, impressed by her insight. "You have a point," he concedes. "Ballet, like art, is a form of expression through movement. Analyzing it can provide insight into the body control and precision required for combat."

He watches intently, his analytical mind dissecting every detail. "The female dancer's footwork... it’s delicate, precise. She utilizes her core strength to maintain balance and control."

“Do you see it now?” (y/n) asks, her smile widening.

Thrawn considers her question, a hint of admiration glimmering in his eyes. "I see," he replies thoughtfully. "Ballet demands incredible discipline, precision, and control. It is not merely a performance but a demonstration of technical prowess. In that sense, perhaps I was wrong in assuming it to be inefficient for combat."

(y/n) laughs, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “Does saying you’re wrong happen a lot to you?”

Thrawn smirks, meeting her gaze with a glint of humor. "Admittedly, it does not happen often. But I am capable of admitting when I am incorrect."

He glances at her, a touch of amusement in his gaze. "Are you planning on reminding me of this often?"

“Maybe we shall see,” (y/n) says, bumping his elbow lightly.

"You enjoy challenging my confidence, don't you?" Thrawn remarks, his smirk lingering.

“And you enjoy the challenge,” (y/n) replies with a knowing look.

Thrawn holds her gaze, a subtle spark of understanding passing between them. "I admit, your unique perspective and audacity do keep things... interesting," he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Not exactly a compliment, but I’ll take it,” (y/n) says with a smile, turning her attention back to the performance.

Thrawn’s expression softens as he follows her gaze. "You are a unique individual, Cadet," he says with quiet respect. They sit in companionable silence, watching the ballet in the soft glow of the stage lights.As the peaceful silence stretches between them, Thrawn’s analytical mind begins to stir. His thoughts drift to (y/n)’s familiarity with this hidden spot. Given her connection to Colonel Yularen, her knowledge of this clandestine entrance piques his curiosity. He casts a discreet glance her way, noting her composed demeanor. The question lingers in his mind: how did she and her friend stumble upon such a secluded location?

Breaking the quiet, he tilts his head slightly and speaks, his tone casual yet probing. "Cadet," he begins, "I am curious... How exactly did you come to discover this... unique entrance to the theatre?"

(y/n) keeps her gaze fixed on the ballet below, her tone light as she answers, "My friend and I found it one winter."

Thrawn’s sharp gaze narrows slightly, intrigued by the simplicity of her reply. "In the middle of winter, you say?" he echoes, the detail catching his attention. "And you were just... wandering around the theatre, stumbled upon the fire escape, and decided to explore?"

“Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah,” (y/n) replies distractedly, only half paying attention to him.

Thrawn’s eyebrow arches ever so slightly, the faintest trace of skepticism slipping into his tone. "Just a casual wandering during a winter night, and stumbled upon this hidden entrance?" he repeats, leaning forward slightly as he studies her face. "Seems like quite a convenient discovery for two young women wandering around in the cold..."

(y/n) heard Thrawn's skepticism and wondered if he was starting to catch on to her past. She looked up at him, about to say something, when a man’s voice called out, “Hey! Who’s up here?”

Thrawn’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden interruption, his mind already assessing their situation.

“It seems we have been discovered,” he said tersely, scanning their surroundings for an escape route.

“Shit, follow me!” (y/n) hissed, springing to her feet and running.

Thrawn followed without hesitation, his calm demeanor slipping just a fraction.

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked, his tone edged with urgency. “Another convenient escape route?”

“I wouldn’t say convenient,” (y/n) shot back, reaching a window and glancing down.

Thrawn stepped up beside her, peering down at the street below.

“I’m going to assume you have a plan beyond jumping out of the window?” he remarked dryly, his brow arching.

“Not really. You’re going to jump out of the window,” (y/n) said bluntly.

Thrawn blinked, momentarily taken aback by her audacity.

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice. “You want me to jump out of a window?”

(y/n) rushed to grab a rope nearby, tying it to a pole.

“Here—now it’s not really jumping!” she said, tossing the rope to him. “Hurry!”

Thrawn eyed the rope, his mind quickly calculating.

“You expect me to rappel down a theater using this?” he asked, his tone tinged with resignation and reluctant admiration for her resourcefulness.

“STOP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GO!” (y/n) snapped, her voice low but urgent as the man’s footsteps grew closer.

With a grimace, Thrawn grabbed the rope.

“Understood,” he said curtly. In one fluid motion, he swung out of the window, beginning his descent with practiced precision.

(y/n) leaned out to watch him, the man’s footsteps growing louder. She grabbed her heels and tossed them out the window after Thrawn. One of them narrowly missed his head.

Thrawn paused mid-descent, glancing up sharply.

“Do try to have better aim when throwing things!” he called up, his voice edged with mild irritation.

“Sorry!” (y/n) whisper-yelled, gripping the rope and starting her own descent. Her hands trembled slightly as she struggled to steady herself.

“Careful!” Thrawn called up, his tone carrying a rare note of concern. “Take it slow!”

Thrawn reached the ground with ease, immediately scanning the area to ensure it was clear. His gaze then snapped upward, watching (y/n)’s progress with a mix of anxiety and admiration.

She was halfway down when her foot slipped. With a gasp, she lost her grip and plummeted toward the ground.

“Kriff!” Thrawn cursed, his instincts taking over. He positioned himself directly below her, bracing for impact.

(y/n) landed squarely on top of him, the force sending them both tumbling backward. Thrawn hit the ground flat on his back, his arms instinctively cradling her to absorb the worst of the fall.

For a moment, they lay there, winded and disoriented. Thrawn stared up at the sky, his chest heaving from the adrenaline, while (y/n) rested her head on his chest.

She looked up at him sheepishly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Thrawn’s gaze shifted to hers, their faces mere inches apart. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice breathless but laden with concern.

(y/n)’s cheeks flushed as she nodded, then began to laugh softly.

Thrawn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her reaction. The corners of his lips quirked upward despite himself.

“You find our predicament funny, do you?” he asked, his tone tinged with dry amusement.

“Kinda,” (y/n) admitted, laughing harder as she started to get up.

Thrawn winced as she shifted off of him but maintained his composure.

“I’m glad to provide some amusement,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As they helped each other to their feet, Thrawn cast a wary glance around.

“We should vacate the premises before we are discovered,” he said quietly.

“Agreed,” (y/n) said, grabbing one of her heels and scanning the ground for the other.

“Hey, you two!” the man from earlier shouted from the far end of the alley.

Thrawn immediately stepped in front of (y/n), his body shielding her from view. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation.

“That sounds like our cue to depart,” he murmured, his voice calm but urgent.

As they began to run, (y/n) glanced back.

“My heel!” she cried, pointing to the one still lying on the ground near Thrawn.

Thrawn hesitated briefly, exasperation flickering across his features.

“Your heel?” he repeated, muttering under his breath as he grabbed it.

They ran for several blocks, finally stopping when they were a safe distance away. (y/n) doubled over, laughing as she tried to catch her breath.

“You find this entire ordeal entertaining, don’t you?” Thrawn asked, his composure returning as he observed her with mild bewilderment.

“Yes, yes I do,” (y/n) said between breaths. “How can you not? We just jumped out of a window after sneaking into a ballet. That’s so random!”

Thrawn, despite his usual stoicism, can't suppress a small smirk.

"I must admit, it has been rather... unconventional night, both in entrance and exit." His tone holds a hint of dry amusement, his reserved demeanor slipping ever so slightly.

(y/n) slipped on her remaining heel and looked at Thrawn, who still held the other one in his hand.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow as he observed her unbalanced attempt at footwear.

“Are you planning to hobble the rest of the way?” he asked, his tone betraying a faint hint of humor.

“Hopefully, the gentleman holding the other heel will be gracious and help the damsel in distress,” (y/n) replied, her voice laced with playful sass.

Thrawn’s lip twitched as he fought a smile.

“The damsel in distress?” he repeated incredulously. “You are the furthest thing from a damsel in distress I have ever met.”

He held up the heel, regarding it with amusement.

“But I shall assist you, my lady.”

With that, he knelt, holding the heel steady for her. His movements were deliberate and surprisingly gentle as he helped her slide her foot into it.

(y/n) felt the softness of his touch, her heart skipping slightly.

Thrawn’s gaze flickered to hers briefly as he finished.

“There,” he murmured, his voice warm. “The damsel is no longer in distress.”

(y/n) blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uh, thank you for catching me back there,” she said, trying to move past the moment.

Thrawn stood, noticing the faint color in her cheeks. His gaze softened as he responded,

“You’re welcome. Though I must admit, your tendency to get into... predicaments is becoming a concerning pattern.”

“Hey, I may get myself into predicaments, but I always get myself out of them,” (y/n) retorted, folding her arms and pouting slightly.

Thrawn raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Indeed, you do have a remarkable talent for finding trouble—yet also for escaping it unscathed.” He paused, his gaze lingering on her pout.

“Though, I dare say, the latter wouldn’t be necessary if you avoided the former.”

“If I didn’t have the first skill, I wouldn’t get to have you help me with the second one,” (y/n) said, stepping closer with a smirk.

Thrawn felt an uncharacteristic warmth spread through his chest, but he maintained his steady demeanor.

“Are you suggesting that your penchant for trouble exists solely to give me the opportunity to rescue you?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Oh no,” (y/n) replied with a sly grin. “But it’s definitely a side benefit.”

Thrawn’s composure wavered slightly as he regarded her.

“I see. So you don’t just get into trouble for the pleasure of having someone like me save you?” he asked, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.

“I hope it doesn’t break your heart to know that I don’t,” (y/n) teased, her smile softening. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

Thrawn held her gaze, his usual stoicism slipping as his tone softened.

“I have no doubt you’re capable, Cadet. You are quite... formidable.”

A quiet moment passed between them, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Thrawn broke the silence, his voice warmer than before.

“Though it may benefit us both if you avoided getting into trouble in the first place.”

(y/n) tilted her head with a flirtatious smile.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll try. But I won’t make any promises.”

Thrawn’s composure cracked slightly as he returned her gaze.

“I’ll take your attempts to stay out of trouble with a grain of salt,” he said, his voice tinged with dry humor.

Without thinking, he raised a hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was intimate, unconscious, and entirely out of character for him.

(y/n)’s (e/c) eyes searched his face, catching the cracks in his stoic exterior as a softer expression surfaced.

Thrawn gazed down at her, his composure faltering under her penetrating stare.

“You have a way of... breaking down my composure, Cadet,” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet.

(y/n) searches Thrawn's eyes, her voice soft with curiosity. “Do I?”

Thrawn's gaze deepens, his usually impenetrable demeanor beginning to waver. A warmth spreads through his chest—an unfamiliar, unnamable sensation.

"Yes, you do..." he whispers, his voice barely audible.

His hand hovers near her face, drawn by an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch her. For a moment, he is lost in her presence. Then reality reasserts itself, and he realizes how close they’ve become.

Thrawn clears his throat, taking a subtle step back. “Perhaps... we should continue the walk back, Cadet. It’s getting late.” His voice carries a slight strain, betraying the effort it takes to regain his composure.

(y/n)’s heart sinks, but she hides her disappointment with a light tone. “Yes! You’re right. It’s getting late—and cold.”

Thrawn nods, a quiet moment passing as he centers himself. “Indeed. Walking back is wise,” he agrees, his voice settling into its usual steadiness. Yet, as they resume their walk, he finds his thoughts drifting back to her. Despite himself, he steals glances at her, the memory of their shared moment lingering.

As they approach the academy steps, (y/n) breaks the silence. “I hope you had fun. I’m glad I convinced you and Eli to come to the club tonight. Though I bet this wasn’t the evening you had planned.”

Thrawn manages a faint smile, his thoughts still tangled in unfamiliar emotions. “You certainly have a knack for... unexpected surprises,” he replies with a trace of amusement.

He turns to her, his expression softening as warmth flickers in his eyes. “But... I did have a good time tonight. Thank you, Cadet.”

(y/n)’s smile mirrors his warmth. “I’m glad you did, Lieutenant.”

Thrawn hesitates, the moment stretching between them. Finally, he extends his hand, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Let me escort you to your quarters. It is late, and you should get some rest.”

(y/n) smiles, slipping her arm through his. “Thank you,” she says softly as he begins to lead her down the corridor.

Their pace is slow, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Thrawn is acutely aware of the light pressure of her arm against his, a subtle but electrifying sensation.

When they arrive at the dormitory hall, he reluctantly releases her arm. “Here we are, Cadet,” he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual.

“Thank you for accompanying me on my late-night adventure, Lieutenant,” (y/n) replies, her tone equally soft.

Thrawn feels an unwelcome pang of reluctance as the moment draws to a close. Still, he maintains his composure. “You’re welcome, Cadet.” His voice is gentler than he intends, and his gaze lingers on her face longer than proprietary would permit.

Taking a step back, he adds, “I advise you to get some rest. Nightly escapades are not the most... productive of activities.”

(y/n)’s lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Depends on the activities.”

Thrawn’s breath catches at her teasing remark. He averts his gaze briefly, struggling to keep his usual stoic demeanor. “I suppose it does,” he concedes, his tone slightly strained.

Thrawn takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure from fully breaking.

“But even so, it is late, and you should rest... Cadet.”

(y/n) chuckles softly, her amusement lighting up her face. “Yes, sir. Goodnight.”

Her smile lingers in his mind as she speaks, her voice gentle and warm. For a moment, Thrawn is struck by a sensation so unfamiliar it almost unnerves him.

“Goodnight, Cadet,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper. He resists the urge to reach out and touch her again, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

He watches her disappear into her quarters, standing still until he hears the soft click of the door locking, ensuring her safety. Only then does he turn away, his steps heavy with thought.

As he walks back to his own quarters, the evening replays in his mind—the ballet, their unexpected escape, the quiet, intimate moments shared. Each memory stirs something new within him, a mix of warmth and weightlessness he has yet to fully understand.

[olderjodijournals]

Friday, November 2, 2007

To say that October came in like a lion and went out like a lamb is an understatement! I’m so excited that I can barely compose my thoughts in order to write! I think I know why I had that 50K dream! Nothing’s etched in stone yet, but given the dream, the fact that Susie was only wrong once, and knowing Satish, the maintenance guy from the beautiful Fiji Islands, it sure seems quite promising. Especially since Satish isn’t “thinking” about buying a new house, but is buying one. There’s also the fact that I never vibed us being here in ’08, and haven’t had dreams where we were actually living in an apartment. This pretty much stamps out any remaining doubts I may’ve had as to whether or not prayer works, too! And did God do us a favor in denying us that Citrus Heights apartment? Yup! Especially if this works out, and if it does, there’d also be no doubt that this is the best motel!

Just when I thought he’d totally forgotten, Satish came to do the door a few minutes after I got up just before 11:00. We made small talk as usual and at one point I casually mentioned that we were looking to rent a house, preferably in the Roseville/Rocklin area. This is when he asked how much we were willing to pay. I said that, of course, the less the better, and that while we’d prefer to pay around $800-$900, we knew we may have to pay over $1000. I explained we were looking to rent from an individual we knew since management companies can be a problem, and since we’d absolutely hate to end up in an apartment. He said he’s never lived in an apartment and would never want to with all the noise, lack of privacy, vehicle worries, etc. He also agreed that no matter how good you leave an apartment you’re moving out of, they always rip you off.

So it turns out that he has a 3-bedroom, 2-bath house that’s about 1300 square feet heading towards Roseville in a beautiful neighborhood that he says is quiet. He says the house isn’t set too close to others, and that he hates those tooth houses, too. He said the only reason he bought another house was that he wanted a bigger place with a bigger yard. He said it’s an early 80s house. Brand spanking new compared to the 40s dump in the Klam.

He asked if we were looking to rent long-term, and I assured him we were. I told him the idea was to buy a house in a retirement community when Tom’s 55 in 5 years, but that until then we were hoping to find an affordable, peaceful house.

I told him Tom worked at Comtek and he knew where that was. I pointed out that since he’s new here and is only making $10 an hour, and I’m home entering contests, we couldn’t afford anything too expensive, and were in the process of saving up for a place since we figured the person would want deposits and all that. He said he wasn’t worried about deposits, and that he’ll call us once he’s worked out exactly what his own payments are going to be with his loan officer. He doubts it’ll be over $1000 a month, though, and said something about throwing in a few hundred himself, if possible. Also, two months would be the most it could take, but it would more than likely be one month.

To think that I not only saved us by calling my folks but that I may get us home too is a way awesome feeling! Maybe I’m not so worthless after all.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

God, they just can’t take a day off around here to save their lives! It’s so typical of apartments and motels of the West, too. Always gotta be mowing, blowing, painting, cleaning, etc. Even if it doesn’t need it. I guess they wouldn’t feel like a real Western motel if they took a day off to sit on their asses and do nothing.

I just hope Satish comes through for us and that the place is as good as it sounds!

I’m glad we haven’t had to go camping so far. I not only hate to camp, but to me, it’s just a fancy state of homelessness, and well, glorified vagabonds are nothing we need to be.

Our worst fears of losing everything like we nearly did happened to Paula, I was dismayed to read. She sent a letter about a week ago saying that in late August her apartment building burned down. She said they thought it was the neighbor, but didn’t say if they thought it was arson or not. Then the place got looted afterward. I tried to find information online about it, but couldn’t. She said her son was taking it really hard, that he cut himself, is threatening suicide, and so she may have him committed. She said all the dolls I sent got burned, but she did manage to salvage her wedding dress. On top of all this, she had a staph infection under her arm and misses her husband. She’s now in a new apartment which I guess is also in Chicopee. I wonder where she stayed until she could move into the new place. She says she’s on the second floor and that the landlords live on the first.

Both Tom and I feel bad for her and her son. That really sucks to lose your stuff to a fire, or to anything. I remember her telling me she wouldn’t move to Florida for fear of losing everything to a hurricane, too. I’ll be adding her to my prayers.

She also lost the bracelet I won and sent her because it was so her in shades of green and frost white. I’m going to one day surprise her with not only some porcelain dolls I’ve been sick of for quite some time but with a necklace she’d no doubt love with jades and clear beads.

Fortunately for us, we’ve been doing much better. I ended up getting over 10,000 points on Netwinner a few days ago, and next week he’s going to be getting a $600 check with all the overtime they’ve had him doing. If things could continue to go well with the truck and we could get into Satish’s house and find it to be all he says it is, then we couldn’t get much better than that! That’d be one hell of a stark contrast to how hopelessly miserable we were a month ago.

He doubts they’ll hire him on when he’s been there 3 months on the 14th because all the people that started off as temps say it takes 18 months to get hired on, and all they got were little piddly raises along the way. I’ve been uninsured long enough, and he doesn’t think this place has much potential for him, so as soon as we get settled somewhere and he can get a new birth certificate, he’s going to look for something better.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Today’s annoyance was one of the housekeepers taking a broom and swatting spider webs outside the rooms. And of course this meant swatting the doors and windows as well. It’s a good thing I wasn’t asleep, although I don’t expect to sleep well tomorrow. The guy on the end is on for cleaning tomorrow, someone’s below us, and we have new people next to us who also aren’t going anywhere too soon. I could tell by the drawers I heard opening and closing. People don’t usually fill dressers if they plan to turn around and take off in a day or two. Oh, how I hope Satish comes through for us! Jessie said her house is a small two-bedroom house built in 1930. She said she really likes not having a nosy landlady knocking on her window every time she walks by. I’ll bet!

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

And the annoyances go on! At least we’re not homeless, but even so, Netwinner’s having technical problems like crazy. Big changes bring big headaches. I’ll be going through that with OLS soon enough, too. Why can’t people leave things alone for more than 5 minutes?! Although I do love their multiplier. It’s what’s been upping my points like crazy lately.

It’s also been a zoo here in the mornings. They did the door on the end today. Hopefully, that’ll get him out of there more often. He seemed to be hanging around more often because as I’ve noticed before, he obviously doesn’t want anyone in the room when he’s not there, and he must’ve known they were coming soon. He hasn’t been “noisy,” but I’ve heard things that do get a bit annoying at times. The main annoyances are still all the damn door slamming. That’s 95% of what I hear around here.

It was a zoo this morning from 6:30 - 11:30 but has been dead quiet ever since. Wish it could be that way all the time!

I was stressing out again cuz the truck leaked some water yesterday. Tom epoxied it but wasn’t sure how it would hold up. I started getting all paranoid again, wondering if our being close to death as we were a month ago was actually to prepare us for having to kill ourselves for real. It’s just scary to know that if something craps out with the truck that we couldn’t afford to fix, we’re totally screwed and as good as dead. We’d be like cars without gas, and without gas, you simply can’t function. Whoever said money isn’t everything is a fool. Being rich isn’t everything, but having money for the necessities is definitely everything or else you can’t live.

Oh, to have peace and security! Why are those two simple requests such an impossible dream? Just a peaceful place with two vehicles and 5 grand saved up for emergencies, and if he ever did get the luxury of working for himself before he retired, then we could have just one vehicle to go with the peaceful place and the 5 grand.

Tom might start 2nd shift on Monday. He says he won’t be working as much overtime, but with the 5% bonus, it won’t make much difference pay-wise. He’s been working an incredible amount of overtime to get us into a place if we don’t get into Satish’s house. I just don’t know if it’ll be someone else’s house or that dreaded apartment. Not that Satish is lying, but what he told me sounded too good to be true. At least for us personally. It just sounds too much like what we want, and we’re not in the habit of getting what we want when it comes to where we live.

I was surprised there was nothing but junk at the mail place when he stopped today after work. I’ve been sweeping more and more, but you’d never know it. I’m surprised there was nothing from Mary, and still surprised there was nothing from my folks, either, if only to tell me not to bother to pay them back. Maybe they really are hurting financially, although $500 is a lot to shell out for someone when you’re hurting. Tom thinks they’re just waiting till we get settled. I think either something came up or they’ve decided that returning to silence is better, something we can agree on for once.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

There are these huge wild turkeys running around here, strangely enough. Tom said he’s seen them beating their heads in people’s cars. He’s seen dead turkeys and raccoons on the roads on the way to work early in the mornings. Today we’re having our coldest day yet. It’s to be in the mid-60s all week. I’m surprised we’ll have the same lows in the 40s as we had when we were having highs in the 70s. At least it’s not going to drop to the 20s like it will in the Klam and where Jessie is tonight! I had what felt like the start of a cold trying to grab me by the throat, so I burned it away with hot tea.

Friday, November 9, 2007

The lady who was out having foot surgery hasn’t returned to work, so Tom won’t be starting 2nd shift next Monday. He said it won’t make much difference either way. He’s still working tons of overtime and making tons of money. More so than in Oregon, but it doesn’t feel that way when all the money’s going to this damn motel! It’s like in Maricopa where we were rich, but we were broke, cuz all the money went to the house. Still, we’re in the position to pay for two weeks here for the first time ever, but we’re not going to.

I just wish I knew when we were leaving and where we were going! I’m sick of not knowing. This is the glorified version of being unsentenced inmates, we just have a fancy, more luxurious cell in which we’re free to come and go as we wait out our sentence.

At least Tom was right in saying he’d make more money faster if we came here rather than to Merced. I really thought he’d make shitty money for quite a while. Now if only he could be right about fine-tuning those horse numbers, too!

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Still no call from Satish, which sucks. Tom said he wouldn’t assume he’s not going to rent to us unless we don’t hear anything for 3 weeks, since he said a month or two.

I still fear we’re still not going to be allowed to live in a peaceful place and that we’ll get stuck in an apartment. This motel and an apartment may be better than the streets, but both are still bad enough. All I want are these 3 things: A peaceful place to live, a reliable vehicle, and 5 grand saved up for the emergency we hope to never have. Maybe there’s a chance we can get the last two.

I still intend to use our clogged shower drain as an excuse to lure Satish up here to see if I can see if he’s still serious and to get a better idea of when we could move into his house if he still is. If he doesn’t happen to be here that day, then I’ll have the office have him contact me in a couple more weeks if he hasn’t called us first.

I’m still not sleeping well when trying to sleep during the daytime. They failed their inspection so now I gotta deal with a repeat episode of that shit waking me up, along with the housekeeper, door slamming, plus all the other shit they do around here. The inspector will be here within the next few days.

I’m pretty sure the guy on the end is gone. Someone checked in on the other side and so far they’re wonderfully quiet. I’d rather quiet neighbors than no neighbors, since it couldn’t stay vacant on either side of us forever, and since having good neighbors keeps the bad ones away. But the good ones don’t last long, so I’m sure they’ll check out tomorrow. I didn’t hear any telltale drawers opening and closing.

Despite wanting out of this room so badly, Tom started coding his racing program again in a different way that seems to be working well so far. He thinks that by the end of the week, he’ll have a better idea of how effective it’ll be.

They’re talking about opening an email account for him at work, but he still doesn’t think they’re going to hire him on. He thinks they’re cheap and will keep him forever as a temp without ever giving him any raises for as long as he’s there. They do this so they don’t have to insure people.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

The guy on the end hasn’t left yet after all but plans to tomorrow. So after 10 long, but miserably interrupted hours of sleep like I had today, I’m sure I’ll get even less tomorrow and be tired as hell by the weekend. The inspector still has to come tomorrow or the next day, the housekeeper’s coming Thursday, and I’m sure the guy will let me know it when he moves out. I’m also sure the housekeeper will let me know it too, when she comes to clean, which will probably take quite a while as long as he’s been there.

I had opened the door to see how the weather was when he was coming up the stairs. I commented that we made it through the storm after all and was sorry to go begging for his help as I did. He smiled and said it was ok and that he was sorry he couldn’t help. Then he said something about not being able to make it here and going to live with relatives.

Fortunately, the quiet people on the other side are still here. They came in shortly after midnight. I heard a few subtle bumps and bangs, then nothing.

It sucks that Satish still hasn’t called, and Netwinner is late on sending me my cash card with $50 on it, saying that they’ve moved and all that and are oh-so busy. This is no excuse, and I’d like to move too, and so I could really use the damn money! We’ve agreed to have Netwinner be more or less the “furniture and appliance supplier” for now. The $50 that’s on its way is for the incense I got a while back, and the $50 I’ve got accumulated right now is waiting to be put on the card once it arrives. So I’ve got half a new microwave. Meanwhile, we still need a new hot/cold water dispenser and desks. Lower on our list of priorities are things like a new bed for him, a long dresser for me, shelves, and I really like these cool new digital photo frames they have now. They’re like portable screensavers, and of course you can use your own pictures to display. If we do have money again it’d be nice to send one to my folks, preloaded with pictures I’ve taken over the years, as well as Webshots photos.

My birthday coming up in a few weeks will be a good test as to where they stand. They’ll either send a card saying not to pay them back, or just send a card, or send nothing at all.

On the bright side, Tom’s been working like crazy and so we’re doing ok financially. The lady who had foot surgery isn’t returning for another week or so, so they can’t start 2nd shift till then.

For now, I have been praying every day for God to let Satish come through for us, along with his racing program. I also ask that He safeguard us from problems with our health, truck and money. If He hasn’t been keeping a fine ear tuned to my requests so far, then it’s a hell of a coincidence!

Monday, November 19, 2007

OLS is down right now for the upgrade I hope won’t fuck things up too bad. I made a point of backing up ‘my sweeps’ at the end of each day.

To give a general update, things are still going well. Our shower drain is clogged again for the second time since we’ve lived in this little room, thanks to my hair which now stretches just past the middle of my ass. So hopefully things will be even better when I call Satish up to fix it later on today. I’m hoping I can get a better timeframe from him as to when his house will be available. I’m going to at least get the street it’s on so I can check it out by satellite, even though the picture may be old.

With the horseracing program looking more promising than ever, we’re hoping all the more not to have to settle for a rowdy apartment until the money builds up enough to buy something somewhere, so it doesn’t make us act in haste. If we’re truly going to be given another chance to own something, we want to take our time and do it right. But living where I get woken up constantly and can’t hear myself think when I am awake would only make us desperate. It was our desperation to escape Phoenix that helped us make the poor choice we did in Maricopa, and our having to leave there in a hurry helped lead us to screw up in Oregon, too.

The programming has been going slowly but well, which is better than fast and bad. Tom said he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of this before, but he got the idea to split the files containing all the information about individual horses. When he had everything in one giant file and it would get confused for some reason, it would automatically insert a bunch of garbage which was too hard to weed out being such a huge file. Now he can debug things easier in the smaller files he’s creating. He thinks that if it can have a 50/50 accuracy rate while it was confused, it ought to be much better if it’s not nearly as confused. Of course, I don’t know what causes it to be confused in the first place or how it all works. I don’t know programming like he does, and wouldn’t write about it if I did. The fewer people that know about this, the more money it can make us.

As an influencer, the success he’s been having with the programming has got me racking up points like crazy at Netwinner cuz I’ve been more hopeful. I got a record 14,000 points yesterday. I also won a $100 Best Buy card in an instant. Tom pointed out that the reason I’m not winning as much is that the piddly wins are still going to Oregon since you usually don’t get your prizes for a few months after the sweep ends. At least we know they aren’t getting anything big at my expense since they notify you of big wins via phone or express mail.

Tom just got up to tell me there was a setback with the way the program communicates, but he should be able to get it ironed out. He should also have more time this week to work on it with my schedule being on days again, and with Thanksgiving giving him a day off.

The guy on the end did move out, and the rooms next to us were vacant all weekend and so it was wonderfully quiet. Someone in back got a little bangy at times, but that was about it, other than when they were cleaning on the end.

I got a letter from Mary who was as glad as I figured she’d be to hear that I finally got the message where God’s concerned. She also called my parents helping to save us a miracle. Yeah, but while I’ll be forever filled with profound gratitude towards them for rescuing us, miracle or not, I mostly hope they blow me off on my birthday.

I ended up renewing my Webshots membership after all. As pissed as I am that they went from giving us 4 new photos a day to 2, I do love all the cool pictures. Most of them anyway. I also like the storage space for my own pictures, plus there are a lot of cool community pictures as well.

The weekend before last I heard a bunch of sirens approach that cut out close by. I figured it was either an accident or a hold-up at one of the convenience stores. Then yesterday when we were on our way to Walmart, we saw a cross, flowers and notes attached to a utility pole at the Northgate intersection. After Tom looked it up, he found that a 28-year-old guy was killed instantly when his pickup hit the utility pole.

It was incredibly foggy yesterday, but at least it wasn’t snowing like where Jessie is, or down to 15º like it’s been getting at night where Liz is.

Later…

Satish fixed the clogged drain. Although he promised to let me know either way by the end of this month, I can already tell the answer’s going to be no. I don’t understand the housing market, so maybe you can make sense of what he told me. He said something about being undecided because his realtor said that the cost of houses is dropping, so he should hold out a bit longer. Yet he’s already in the process of buying this other house which he says is just 7 blocks away. So what’s he to hold out for?

I told him I didn’t mean to sound pushy and that I understood he had to do what he had to do, but explained to him that living in one room with most of our stuff stuck in storage and having the outrageous costs we have is rough. He seemed sympathetic, though I don’t know if that’ll change anything. Especially since he wouldn’t say what street it was on. Just that it was in Sacramento and off of Diablo. I didn’t think to ask if that was a street or avenue or what. When I checked the map I got a street and a drive. The houses and neighborhoods in both areas looked bigger and ritzier than where we lived in Phoenix. It sort of looked like Carmichael, yet they were also tooth houses. Without knowing exactly where his is, since lots of streets are off both Diablos which means devil, I can’t see if there are any exceptions space-wise.

The big question is where to go if he doesn’t come through for us. Do we try to find the time to get another house? An apartment, hoping it won’t be any worse than here? Stay here and maybe even jump into the end room if the horses really do work out? Either way, those horses have got to come through for us. They’ve got to. If they don’t we’re gonna be where we’ve been for years now – where we don’t want to be.

Hmmm… are the prayers really working as well as I thought they were?

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

And so begins another day of alarms blaring, mowers whirring, doors slamming, and God knows what else around here.

I’m also beginning to wonder if we’re being teased yet again with money and a peaceful place to live. I mean, it’s a hell of a coincidence that the housing market had to change right as we were so close to getting what sounded so ideal. I should’ve known better, too. After all, it just sounded way too good to be true. When am I going to learn that I’m one of those who just aren’t meant to live where she wants to, and just settle for an apartment? An apartment would have blaring TVs and stereos and rowdy kids which aren’t a problem here (yet), but other than that I don’t see how an apartment could be much worse than this. So we may as well get it over with and learn to settle. An apartment would be the quickest, easiest thing to get into. Then maybe – just maybe – we can escape the chaos in 5 years when he’s 55. Of course, if the horses could just come through for us we could go just about anywhere, but I can’t believe that without seeing it first, despite how knowledgeable Tom is. It’s just that the poor guy only has so much time he can work on it.

So since Satish is obviously going to come back in a week or so just to tell me he won’t rent his house to us, we’re not sure what to do about a place. Tom said he should have a better idea of where the horses will take us by the end of the weekend after the latest kink has been ironed out.

If the horses don’t come through for us our only choices are going to be to either stay here, get an apartment, or try to find another house somewhere, but that would be so hard to do and would take so much more time than he has. Especially while he’s still on 1st shift.

At least Subway screwed up in our favor. Or Tom’s anyway since I don’t care for deli-type places. They accidentally sent two $10 gift cards when I was supposed to get just one, as far as I knew.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

The housekeeper, whoever she is, is next door right now. So someone was in that room last night and I slept through their arrival. They sure let me know it when they left today, though. And while they were packing earlier, too.

I hope the housekeeper isn’t that Indian bitch I’ve come to dislike, but whoever it is will be joined by someone else at some point which I hate because they distract the first housekeeper. They always seem to forget something and I have to check their work and ask for whatever they forgot. At least I’m here to catch whatever it is so Tom doesn’t have to make extra trips to the office.

Anyway, there are only 5 housekeepers here. So it’s gonna be either the tall Asian one, the short Asian one, this other really short one who may be Indian, the bitchy Indian, or Josephina. I hope it’s Josephina, but we’ll see.

I hit two instants in a row this morning. Coke and Pepsi have codes under their caps that you can input for prizes. I got a shirt and a DVD.

I’m also getting free books in our names, but slightly misspelled names, from a few clubs that give you some free books just for signing up. I used to do this like crazy when I lived on Oswego St. in Springfield. I can’t believe they set themselves up to be ripped off like this. But I also can’t believe I’ll get all the books, either. We’ll see.

Although it sucks that we won’t be getting Satish’s house and could be trapped here for still some time to come, it eases my mind to know that if the truck’s engine failed, we could now grab another junker for as little as $500. He’d probably still have to miss a few days of work to do it, so we hope we won’t have to and that the truck will hold out till we can get something better for around 5 grand.

I just peeked out and saw the tall Asian one going to lunch. She’s nice and I like the way she does the floor because she sweeps it first. I never heard her vacuum next door, so maybe she’s not even finished over there. I didn’t think it was Josephina or the bitch. They clean rather aggressively compared to both Asians.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

I did end up hearing from my folks after all. I guess I’m not surprised. It was a blank card written by Mom. She said she hopes we’re on the path to success and that she and Dad were married for 56 years. Tom and I must seem like a weekend fling in comparison! As she forgot to tell me, Boo and Max are also gone now. She wished me a happy birthday and us a happy holiday season and said to forget about paying them back and that the money was their gift to us, which was very nice of them. Also, she promises they won’t divulge our address to anyone.

I’ll probably give it till just after the new year then I’ll send another letter.

It’s been colder here. Still ok during the afternoons, but down in the 30s at night. It actually froze once or twice.

No one came to join Thay, the tall Asian housekeeper when she cleaned on Wednesday. She works nights at the casino we go to. I guess she’s a blackjack dealer. We went there early Thanksgiving morning but didn’t win shit.

Also, we still don’t know when he’ll have the giant file split into lots of tiny ones for the horses. He’s been trying to think of a way to speed things up. As I told him, though, as long as he’s still sure it’ll work, then speed isn’t as important. I don’t care if we have to play rental until we can own something, just as long as it’s not attached to others. That’s the problem, though. I still feel as if something’s trying to either trap us here in this room or steer us right back into an apartment or duplex. If we could find a duplex with garages between the two and without a shared yard, that should be pretty comparable to a tooth house.

Right now I just hope there won’t be any problems licensing the truck and that it’ll pass emissions ok. If not, that could be as bad as it crapping out altogether. But California’s tough on smog cuz of all the people and pollution here.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Paula called and left a message yesterday evening and I called her right back. She sounded a little down, understandably, but was still her usual self at the same time.

She said she had to stay at a motel for a week before the housing people placed her where she is now, which she says she doesn’t like either. I guess the people below her get noisy. Getting a quiet place outside of an adult community is getting harder and harder to find. There are more and more rude people obsessed with getting attention, more dogs, more stereos, etc. We got someone next door last night who can’t sit still for long, so hopefully they’ll leave today.

Anyway, she said Justin’s been depressed, has dropped out of school now that he’s 16, and is spending most of his time shut up in his room. Her sister Brandy wants to get him a puppy. I hope for his sake he at least gets his GED.

They still don’t know who started the fire, but it was definitely arson. It happened in the middle of the night.

She said my old building on the corner of Locust and Woodside is gone, but when I checked via satellite, I found that it’s still there, but the building on the opposite corner is gone. The satellite pictures are never up to date, though, so it could be gone, too.

Her husband left her and is filing for divorce. She said his new girlfriend called her claiming to be pregnant, which she doesn’t believe (or want to believe). She also wonders if she’s in jail.

Whatever. That girl is forever cursed in that department!

Things are as bad in the East as in the West with those of color getting special treatment on the job. Jessie hadn’t gotten a promotion in the 5 years she’s been where she works. She told them she was going to leave and take a job that offered her 6 more Gs, even though the benefits wouldn’t be as good. That’s when they said they’d match that pay and give her a position as an analyst, but she has to wait till her position’s filled first. In other words, as soon as they find the perfect little black or Puerto Rican, she can finally move on.

I hope Tom can finally move on himself to second shift soon since they’re not going to hire him on or give him a raise. But he’d prefer second shift till he got something better (or the horses raced us rich) for the bonus and the fact that it’d free up some time during business hours. Like today he had to go in an hour early so he’d have time to play truck later on. He’s been searching for this part which he needs before he can take it to emissions.

I still worry that we’re just being teased yet again about having money and that the horseracing thing isn’t going to work out. He’s always getting “closer than ever,” but I haven’t seen any money yet. It’s not ready to be raced for real, though, and the question is when? When is it going to be ready? I really think we’re heading for an apartment and that we’re still not meant to live where we want to. I don’t think we ever will either. It hasn’t happened yet. That was a hell of a coincidence that the housing market changed right after I first spoke with Satish. Obviously, that would’ve been a hell of a house for us. Probably as close to perfect as we could get for being in the city.

Maybe Mary’s only half right. Maybe alienating God makes things worse, but praying really isn’t that helpful. At least not to Tom and me.

So Satish and others will live where they want and we’ll get into an apartment if we can ever get the truck taken care of first, and I’ll listen to their TVs and their stereos and their slamming doors and their pounding footsteps and whatever extremes are around us, but I’ll enjoy the security while I’m at it, cuz I’ll hate it too damn much to be evicted!

Then again, we may be forever trapped in this room. We may never ever make get out of here.

I saw Josephina and the Indian bitch both as Tom and I were returning from Carl’s Jr. the other day, but the bitch was smiling brightly and was just as polite, so maybe she really was just in a bad mood the last time she did this room which was quite a while ago. Josephina said she thought we moved. “Maybe some century,” I told her.

We’re on for housekeeping tomorrow. Hopefully, it’ll be Josephina or Thay.

For just $25, Tom got a computer stand and it really comes in handy in this little room. When he’s not using it, he stores it in the closet area. When he is, he wheels it over to the recliner. He always thought the chairs were so uncomfortable anyway, and having the stand frees up half the table space for eating and writing.

Since we’re doing better and since he thinks the horses are going to spit out money while I think we’re going to end up saving money in an apartment, I did a little incense order. I wanted to get some old IG favorites, but they still can’t get their shit together. I guess their main server crashed, so I ordered from Silksplash. I’m trying some newbies too, to add to the variety and make it more fun. I got 54 10-packs, 9 of them being newbies.

Later…

They’ve been banging on and off all day next door. Yeah, I figured they weren’t checking out today. They’re noisy, so why would they check out anytime soon? You know the noisy ones always stay. Usually, if they’re still noisy after 20 minutes or so, then that’s pretty much how they’re gonna be the entire time they’re around. That’s the pattern I’ve noticed anyway. The quiet ones stay quiet and the noisy ones stay noisy.

Satish still hasn’t come to tell me what I don’t want to hear, but he may never. Some people have a hard time saying “no” to others. And as Tom pointed out, he probably feels bad. It sure would be nice, though, if he could at least point us in some other direction, even if it wouldn’t be as ideal. God may’ve let us escape with our lives a couple of months ago, but that still doesn’t mean He’s ever going to let us go where we want to, and if He is, I have yet to see it. So I know I really need to start focusing on the good in having what I don’t want and being where I don’t want to be. How could I have to worry about ending up in an apartment like I have been if I’m already there?

Friday, November 30, 2007

Life in this little room is basically the same. Sometimes the noise is annoying, other times it’s quiet. Nothing utterly maddening so far, thank God. Same with the car stereos. They get annoying, but not as maddening as up in the Klam, the freezing, cold, snowy miserable Klam. It’s pretty cold here at night too, though.

We like the money all the overtime brings, but it sucks too, because he has so little free time to “horse around.”

Although I’ve been continuing to pray for the things we want and especially the things we need, God obviously isn’t going to let us have Satish’s house. Is He doing us a favor somehow? We’ll never know. I can’t believe, though, that He did us a favor by denying us the Citrus Heights apartment we initially tried to get into since it would’ve saved us a ton of money. Not unless one of those extremes we always seem to get (with the exception of Kim) would’ve been waiting next door for us.

The next prayer we hope He grants is letting the truck pass emissions. Tom got the part he needed today and also had the truck weighed. I have no idea why they require this. What, do they think the truck will break the roads? He has a permit to drive to the place on Monday after work. Let’s hope it passes! Tom thinks it will since the carburetor has improved. Before it was too smoky. Because of the California smog, they’re really picky about that.

I won 5 Playtex bras, but don’t know if I’ll receive them. I don’t even know if I’ll really like them that much since I prefer sports bras cuz of the way the straps of regular bras slip off my shoulders. It’s just that I can’t remember whose name I entered! I asked them but never heard back from them. Therefore, I went ahead and emailed back the form, assuming I entered in my name.

I heard from Mary, just to wish me a happy birthday and a happy holiday season. She says she’s doing well.

[therunawaykind]

I am very happy to hear that! 😄 I wondering if you could please write a Taylor Sloane x reader imagine where the reader gets Taylors attention. She keeps on trying to get the reader attention but nothing works on them and this makes get frustrated because she always gets what she wants but this time she's having problem. So when she sees the reader with another girl, she gets very jealous and ruins the reader and the girls hangout. Which this leads into a fight and taylor confessing her love for the reader which ends up in the two kissing and the reader telling her she also likes her. 😅

The reader can be any gender you like it to be😊 and thank you! 😊

Got something to tell you

Pairing: Taylor Sloane x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Curse words, fluff, angsty?

Author's Note: I don't know why but I was really nervous writing this one-shot. I'm hoping this satisfies you're jealous Taylor Sloane needs. It's a lot longer than I anticipated but anywho. Checked over everything, pretty sure there is no use of any specific pronouns if there is please let me know! I hope you enjoy it (Yes I also mentioned Ingrid because let's be real Ingrid deserved better)

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//

You worked as a freelance photographer for as long as you remember, you worked with everyone and anyone at this stage from celebrities, influencers, social media stars and so on. Although you had never worked with her you never heard the end of the new upcoming and unmissable Taylor Sloane, whilst she seemed like someone you would never work with you had a feeling with would be inevitable. You didn’t necessarily hate or dislike her she just seemed like a lot, to be quite honest. It was pure coincidence when you moved across the road from her, she was stood outside in her garden eyeing you, you had no idea if that was a good or bad situation. You just assumed she knew you from all your photography work...which she did know but she was interested in you as a person as well. Much to Taylor’s dismay she never had the chance to go over and talk to you because she was either busy with people or you were constantly on the phone, which caused her to spiral thinking who you were on the phone to was it your partner? work? Family? She honestly couldn’t narrow it down.

Taylors annoyance didn’t subside when she saw a girl frequently coming and going from your house across the street, with that girl being in the way made her ‘mission’ a lot more difficult than it needed to be. Even though she tried her best to remain composed because you two haven’t even talked, it might just be a constant hookup.

You were prepping for a photoshoot in one of the rooms in your house when the girl you’re kinda seeing? But kinda not? Came up behind you saying “hey Y/n, you know that woman across the street keeps looking over and pretty much watching your every move right?” You glance behind you and spin around to face the window and hum “Yea I guess Mia but she’s Taylor Sloane that upcoming influencer person, she’s probably just tryna figure out how to work with me.” You stare out the window in thought as you mindlessly pack all the equipment you need into your bag “anyway Mia I gotta head out to a shoot I’ll see ya later.”

You’ve been at the beach for a few hours with the model when you start hearing over-exaggerated laughing and giggles you automatically roll your eyes and hear a chorus of “oh my god Taylor!” and immediately under your breath you mumbled “fuck.” You miss out and don’t see the pointing and staring at you and you don’t hear the whispers of them saying “omg it’s Y/n L/n, d’you think they’d be able to take a picture for us now?” Surprisingly enough it was Taylor that declined and mumbled “we can’t ask them to take a picture of us now they’re working on a shoot.” Which involved Taylor getting confused looks from her ‘friends’ because she never cared if a person was working she’d get a photo taken by them no matter what. While all this was going on, you were still in your own little world listening to music through your wireless headphones in one of your ears. As you were taking a few steps back someone collided with you and heard a slight “fuck..oh no.” You signalled for the model to take 5 minutes and turned around. “Taylor Sloane to what do I owe the pleasure of you colliding with me.” In the background, you could still see all her friends giggling and staring at you. Taylor’s mouth dropped when she realised you knew who she was, she cleared her throat and stuttered “ehh we...I know you’re busy but um… my friends were wondering would you be able to take just a quick little picture of us since you know you’re such a great photographer and all.” You looked between Taylor and her little posse and exhaled “make it quick.” After taking a quick few snaps of them on Taylor’s phone, her friends ran off and Taylor turned around and exclaimed “honestly thank you so much you didn’t have to do that.” You nodded and waved her off.

What Taylor didn’t know was as she left you took photos of just her on your camera and smirked to yourself.

Hours after you got home your phone started buzzing on the table as you were editing photos. The first notification you saw was Taylor Sloane has tagged you in a post. You grinned walked over to the window and funnily enough there she was looking over. You gave her a smug wave and walked away. After that you pretty much go back to not taking much notice of Taylor and continue on with work, hanging out with Mia and basically being everywhere Taylor wasn’t.

Much to Taylor’s annoyance, it frustrated her that the picture you took of her and her friends was her most liked post on her Instagram. Why? Her other pictures looked the exact same, was it just because your name was on them? More than likely and fans thinking you’re both going to be working together soon which wasn’t the case. Taylor never got the chance to get you alone, always with that fucking girl, or you just straight-up avoiding her. It didn’t take very long for her to start complaining to her friends about why you weren’t hanging out with her more. All her friends could come up with was invite them to a party at your house, I mean they live straight across from you.

Needless to say Taylor Dm’ed you about the party instantly.

You also didn’t reply and didn’t show up.

Shocker.

Another few days passed, another invite to a party, another party Y/n didn’t show up to.

Taylor decided to ask again a few weeks later, she was beyond angry and annoyed at this stage. What she didn’t know what you were going to be going tonight however, you were gonna bring Mia with you for the company because you’d literally know no one there. As you finished getting ready you ran your fingers through your hair and paced “Mia can we not go I regret this decision already.” Mia answered with a quick “nope, now come on.” You grabbed everything you needed and walked over and into Taylor’s, neither of you could spot her so you both walked to the back to grab some drinks.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Ingrid Thorburn talk to someone, you smiled to yourself knowing that her life hasn’t been the easiest. Whilst it confused you how she was friends with Taylor you were happy she had a secure group of friends to support her now when things got tough. The funny thing is it was Taylor she was talking to and you didn’t even realise.

Taylor saw you out of the corner of her eye and started freaking out internally and started freaking out to Ingrid, then she saw the fucking girl with you again and too close to you for her liking. She decided to do what she knew the best act like a fucking clutz with that she excused herself from Ingrid and started her way over to you. Before she came close, you’d realise it was her she decided to ‘trip’ and spill her drink on you. Which ended up being a lot fuller than she realised so she did sort of feel bad, considering how much of it went all down your clothes.

You whipped your head around to the person and rolled your eyes “Taylor really? Invite me to a party just to spill your drink on me.” Taylor immediately started to freak out, she didn’t really think you’d react this way but at the same time could she blame you? She did spill her drink all over you. “Y/n I am so sorry, I did genuinely trip.” you cut her off mumbling “mhmm.” Taylor sighed and looked up at you “look can I at least bring you upstairs and get a change of clothes for you?” You crossed your arms over your chest “well since it was an accident that was your fault, I guess it’s only fair.” What Taylor didn’t know though was that you really weren’t as mad as you let on to be you really just wanted to see her panic.

“You know when I agreed to come to this party I didn’t expect the host to spill her drink all over my clothes. You continued walking up the stairs with Taylor “Y/n I told you I am genuinely sorry.” Taylor walks into her room and opens her closet “Choose whatever you like, whatever you’re comfortable in.” You take a quick glance around her room and looks back at her “huh Taylor Sloane actually apologising for something and letting me have free reign over all the clothes she has.” As you were flicking through her closet to get a change of clothes out of the corner of your eye you saw her jaw clench. “Y’know what Y/n I didn’t have to offer you a fucking change of clothes, I could’ve left you smelling like alcohol all night with that girl you’re with all the time. Also, what would you want me to do not say sorry, claim it was all a part of my master plan to finally be able to talk to you alone for once? You’re infuriating you barely know me! You have probably assumed all this shit about me because you hear others talk about me and claim that’s what I’m like.”

You were stood staring at her with your mouth open you tried to cut her off “Taylor.” She kept ranting, you stuck your tongue in your cheek and exclaimed “TAYLOR what you’re doing right now is not much better than what you assumed I did. You are quite literally assuming all this shit about me, funnily enough, you don’t know me I’m just some photographer to you that you can work with and get you a bunch of new followers and fans.”

Taylor started fidgeting nervously and spoke quietly “you’re not just some photographer.” You stared at her and ran your hands over your face “what are you on about Taylor?” Taylor starts pacing around her room “oh fuck here we go, I like you okay and since you moved across the street I’ve been trying my best to get your attention to try and hang out, but clearly, that wasn’t working. So no you’re not just a photographer to me, I didn’t even wanna bother you that day on the beach that was all my friends that’s why I bumped into you.”

You stared at her and started smirking. Taylor scoffed “why are you smirking, don’t laugh at my failure I don’t understand why I get so flustered around you, I’ve never been like this around anyone else.” You could see she was about to go on another tangent so you strode over to her wrapped your arms around her waist and started kissing her. One of Taylor’s hands was on the back of your neck while the other was on your chest trying to bring you as close as possible to her. Taylor quickly realised what was happening and walked backwards and said breathlessly “Y/n what did you just do, you have that girl downstairs.” You stared at her “Girl? Oh, Mia? She’s not really anything to worry about we were kinda together then realised better as friends. Also if it wasn’t clear by the kiss I do kinda like you too, I was just acting like an asshole to get you to panic more and freak out.” Taylor rolled her eyes and mumbled, “of course.” A grin took over your face and you went over and held her hand and whispered “come on we got a party to get back to and they’re all probably wondering where the host is gone.”

You and Taylor walked back to the party hand in hand smiling like two complete idiots. You two never looked back after that night it was the start of a great relationship and a beautiful working relationship between the two of you.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Touch - p.p

chapter two: the dance

synopsis: you love him, but you can never touch him

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

The day after the confession in the kitchen, the Avengers were sent on an emergency to mission in Alaska. You’d normally sit next to Peter on the jet, but you decided to give him his distance. There was an icy tension between the two of you ever since you spoke of the dance you’d been doing, something you wished would remain unspoken.

You looked at Peter and let out a sigh before getting off the jet and taking your place next to Steve. Tony stood in front of the team and rubbed his hands.

“Banner and Romanoff, stay on the main floor and contain the damage. Rogers, I want you on the west side. Try to minimize the amount of flying monkeys that get in. Bert and Ernie, you two go to the basement and try to turn off the power.”

You felt your heart sink as you and Peter were assigned to stay together. You looked at him and gave him a tight smile, but the eyes on his mask told you he was looking away.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, fighting the urge to cry. Knowing that he felt the same was much worse than wondering if he reciprocated your feelings. Now that you knew, all you felt was pain.

You and Peter headed towards the basement in silence and you hoped it would stay that way. Peter’s head was going a million miles an hour, the mission long gone from his mind.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened between us?” He blurted, making your chest tighten.

“Nothing happened between us.” You said simply, hoping he would take the hint to drop it.

“I know.” He stopped walking. “That’s the problem.”

You stopped too, looking around before walking up to Peter.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled. “We gotta focus on the mission, okay?”

“I can’t focus on anything anymore.” Peter laughed sadly. “Only you.”

“Peter.” You whimpered as he stepped closer to you. He raised a hand and brushed it against your cheek, and you let it linger. You leaned into his touch and looked in his eyes before yours widened in fear.

“Behind you.”

As soon as Peter turned around, he got punched in the face. You immediately jumped to his defense and fought off the intruder, but three more piled in. You and Peter fought back to back, punching and kicking at whoever came near you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man run out of the room with a ring of keys and let out a sigh. Peter clocked it too and looked at you.

“He had the keys to turn the power off.” He called out. “He can’t get away.”

“I’ll go get him.” You called back before running out of the room. You chased the man down and kicked him in the face, catching the keys when the flew out of his hands. He tried to get up so you put a hand on his chest and released pain into his body, making him collapse again. You smiled proudly as you ran back to the room where Peter was, freezing in your place at what you saw.

The first thing you noticed was that all the men were gone. As your eyes searched the room, they landed on Peter, who was lying on the floor. His mask was off, but what really stood out to you was the giant pipe in his chest.

“Hey, peaches.” He smiled weakly at you as blood spilled out of his mouth.

“What happened?” You swallowed gravely as you knelt down beside him. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched your best friends blood leave his body.

“I’ve been impaled.” Peter laughed as he touched the entry wound, craning his neck to see how bad he was. Once he saw it, he let out another laugh that made his blood gurgle in his throat.

“Peter.” You whispered as hot tears streamed down your face. You reached forward but he swatted your hands away to the best of his ability.

“Wait. Don’t touch me.” He croaked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well I can’t just watch you die.” You shouted as you tried to touch him again.

“Please. Don’t.” He begged as he pushed you away. “You don’t know what it’ll do.”

“But I know what will happen if I don’t, and that’s not an option I’m willing to entertain.” You shook your head as you reached for him once again.

“Please.” Peter pleaded. “Don’t.”

If the situation were different, you’d laugh at the fact he was begging you not to touch him the day after he told you how much it hurt him that you didn’t touch him.

But the situation was dire, and there was no room for laughter.

“Hold still.” You instructed as you placed your hands on either side of his face.

“Y/n. Don’t.” He said weakly, the light behind his eyes beginning to dim.

“I have to.” You whimpered as a test rolled down your cheek and landed on his face. “I can’t lose you.”

Before Peter could respond, you bent down and kissed him. You drew the pain out of his body through your lips, feeling the excruciating agony he was in transferring itself into your body. As the pain grew more unbearable, you kissed him harder. Tears of anguish were rolling down your face as your veins filled with fire. You opened your eyes in time to see the wound on Peter’s chest closing, and that’s when you collapsed.

~

Your eyes fluttered open, and quickly shut, as the fluorescent hospital lighting stung them. You let them adjust by slowly opening your eyes, looking around the room as you did. You saw Peter sitting in a chair in the corner of your hospital room and tried to call out to him, but your throat was bone dry.

“Peter?” You croaked out, making him look up. You tried to sit up in bed, but the IV’s and tubes in your body made that difficult. Every fiber in your body felt sore, so you gave up on sitting up. Peter rushed to your side and knelt down beside you, almost taking you leave hand in his but deciding against it.

“Hi peaches.” He smiled softly at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” You licked your dry lips. “What time is it? Is everyone back from the mission?”

“It’s almost 4 am.” He checked his phone. “Everyone got back from the mission safely. You’ve, um, you’ve actually been out for a few days.”

“I have?” You panicked, hating that you lost time. Peters lips tightened into a frown as tears welled in his eyes, quickly looking away so you wouldn’t see.

“We weren’t sure you’d wake up.” He mumbled as he wiped his face.

“Have you been here the whole time?” You asked, knowing the answer already.

“Where else would I be but by your side?” He smiled sadly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I can’t really keep anything down.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to eat knowing my best friend is getting all her nutrients through an IV in her arm.”

“You should get something to eat.” You said gently.

“Is that really what you want to talk about?” Peter asked hoarsely as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Well what do you want to talk about?” You tried to joke. Peter stared at you for a moment before standing up and turning his back to you, his body language telling you he was crying. After composing himself, he looked over his shoulder.

“You almost died.” He said dully before quickly looking away.

“I know.” You swallowed, feeling uneasy all of the sudden.

“Why did you do it?” He whispered. “Why did you heal me?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” He raised his voice. “I’ve been sitting here, raking my brain, trying to figure out why the smartest girl I know would make such a stupid decision. I was on the brink of death and you still took my pain. You could have died. Do you realize that? You could have died.”

You looked at Peter for a moment before letting out a laugh that lead to a cough.

“Why are you laughing?” Peter asked angrily.

“Because it’s funny.” You laughed as you rubbed your tired eyes.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s funny how you think I wouldn’t die before I lost you.” You said as your laughter died down. You and Peter looked at each other for a moment as you realized this wasn’t just a mere crush.

This was love.

“I thought you wanted to minimize the casualties.” Peter said as tears came back to his eyes. Tears stung at your own eyes as you used all your strength to call him over with your hand.

“Come here.”

Peter wordlessly went to you and knelt down beside you. You took his hand but didn’t meet his eyes, the contact being enough.

“I want you, okay?” Your voice shook as you kept your eyes down. “Don’t you dare think I don’t want you. I think about you all the time. It debilitates me. Sometimes, I can’t even breath until you’re with me.”

“Then be with me.” Peter cried, squeezing your hand tightly.

“I can’t.” You sniffled as you let go of his hand. “It’s too dangerous.”

Peter looked at his now empty hand and sucked in a sharp breath.

“So what do we do? Just continue dancing around each other?” He raised his voice. “I can’t do that anymore. I won’t.”

“I love you.” You promised. “Isn’t knowing that enough?”

“I would have you.” Peter said in defeat. “If it were enough, I would have you.”

Without another word, Peter left the room.

Two weeks later, you were able to return to the tower. Peter stopped coming to visit you in your room, but you always saw him lurking in the waiting room. You moved back into your old room and grew to miss the sound of him knocking at your door, asking you if you wanted to watch a movie. The first time you made direct eye contact since the day in the hospital happened early one morning before training.

“Hey.” You smiled sweetly at Peter as you walked into the kitchen. Your face was still a little bruised and swollen, which made it hard for Peter to look at you.

That, and the fact he couldn’t be with the girl he loved.

“Hey.” Peter responded without looking up at you. You figured he’d be upset, but you weren’t expecting the cold shoulder. You silently got out a cereal bowl and the carton of milk.

“Mind if I sit here?” You asked politely as you pointed to the sets next to Peter.

“Sure.” Peter mumbled. You put your bowl down next to Peter’s and smiled at him, but he didn’t look at you.

“You look nice.” You tried to spark conversation. “I like this shirt on you.”

“Thanks.” Peter answered dully. Your lips tightened as you felt tears threaten your eyes.

“Please don’t shut me out Peter. It’s me. It’s peaches.” You laughed sadly as you looked at him. “I know we can’t be together but we can’t still be friends.”

“How can we be friends?” He finally looked at you. “How am I supposed to be your friend when my hands twitch because they want to hold yours so badly? Are we supposed to pretend we’re not in love with in each? And just wait until that love goes away? Is that your plan?”

“You’re not being fair. I’m doing this to protect you.” You threw your spoon down angrily and got out of your seat.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Peter shouted as he got up as well.

“Then what do you need?” You shouted in his face. Peter immediately took your face in his hands and kissed you just as passionately as the first time. You clutched his shirt to keep him as close as possible as you kissed him back with everything you had in you. He pulled away much too soon, leaving the both of you breathless.

“More of that. That’s what I need.” He panted. “Everyday, if I could.”

“I’m not gonna change my mind about this.” You shook your head sadly.

“And I’m not gonna change how I feel about you.” Peter said definitively.

“Then nothings going to change.” You whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Alright then.” Peter stepped back from you. “The dance goes on.”

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[isthisthingeven0n]

looking at her : d.d

as soon as the perfume ad was released, you couldn’t be happier for your boyfriend. but when everyone started to ship him and charlotte together, you couldn’t help but feel insecure about your secret relationship. (1.3k)

requested: yes by an anon - thanks for the idea love! warnings: some angst

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Like everyone, you couldn’t wait for the Perfume line to launch. It was something David had been working on for the best part of eighteen months and it was so close to being released. You had seen it from a mere concept to trying out different scents to advertising and marketing the perfumes.

After all this hard work and determination from your boyfriend, today was the day.

As the advert dropped and the promotional videos were uploaded on social media, you like the rest of the squad shared their support. Yet, you could only share your support as David’s friend, since the news of you dating had not yet been broken to the public.

It was a decision you both made when your relationship became more serious. Everyone already knew you as part of the squad, as one of David’s close friends. Why ruin their perception of what you have when you could enjoy the private moments, knowing they’d be private.

Yet, as you were sitting in your own bedroom, scrolling through Twitter more and more tweets mentioning David filled your timeline. You anticipated seeing David mentioned more, the squad being tagged in an attempt for David to see messages of support and excitement- but what you didn’t expect was to see fan edits of David and Charlotte.

Your eyes glanced over various edits from the advert, clips playing in a montage of the pair as a happy couple, young and in love. If you were an outsider, you’d understand why it’s believable and clearly, fans adore the concept of them being a couple.

‘omg charlotte and david?! power couple’ ‘do you see the way he looks at her???’ ‘she likes him it’s so obvious’ ‘damn, i thought david was single but this says otherwise, huh’

Covering your eyes, you groan quietly to yourself as your phone begins to ring beside you.

“Hey,” You answer, trying to force back any self-doubt as laughter echoes in the background.

“Hey! Well, what’d you think?” David asks, full of excitement as always whilst you curl into yourself, nodding along.

“It was amazing,” You tell him, knowing it’s true. “you and Charlotte did a great job.” A light laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, and David pauses on the other end of the line.

“Is everything okay?” His voice softens as you hear a door close behind him.

“Me? I’m fine.” You lie, but today isn’t the day to focus on your own insecurities, it’s David’s day to celebrate.  “You delivering the PR packages today?” You quickly swerve the topic elsewhere, and it seems to work just fine.

“Yeah, Natalie’s packing up the car now so we’ll be coming to yours later.” David explains as you nod to yourself. “I erm, I better go.” He adds quietly, not quite ready to drop your early remark about the advert. “I love you.”

Taking a steady breath away from your phone, you force yourself to remain composed as you smile to yourself. “I love you too, have fun.” With that, you hang up the phone and bury your face back into your pillow, screaming into it as the sound remains muffled.

*

“Okay, next one up.” David rubs his hands together as he grabs the PR package with your name on it.

Natalie glances over as she pulls up outside of your house, watching as David focuses on your name. “Everything okay with you two?” Natalie speaks up, forcing David from his trance as he hesitantly nods. “Okay, what happened?” She asks, turning the engine off as she gives him her full attention.

David shrugs. “I’m not sure, we were fine yesterday but something happened today and she seemed kinda off.” David rubs his face, having been thinking about you for hours as he delivered various packages to his friends.

“I’m not going to say I know what it is, but I’ve got an idea.” Natalie suggests, and David raises a brow. “Well, a lot of people online think you and Charlotte are dating.” Natalie explains, and David laughs bluntly.

“Wait, seriously?” He pauses, and Natalie nods. “Oh, fuck.” David groans, burying his head in his hands. “Don’t they know we were acting?”

“I’m not a teenager, David. Fans see what they wanna see and to them, you’re a single guy.” Natalie comments. “Can see where they’re coming from.”

“Fuck.” David exhales. “Makes sense now,” He mutters to himself as he looks out from the car window to your front door. “I gotta talk to her for a bit. You wanna do the next drop?”

Natalie nods. “I’ll be back soon.” She salutes David as he climbs out of the car, closing the door behind him as he walks up to your driveway, his palms clamming up.

Wiping his hands across his jeans, David reaches up for your doorbell, listening to the light-hearted chime and the faint sound of you rushing to your front door.

As you open it, your smile remains bright. “Wait, where’s the PR?” You chuckle, noting David’s empty hands and the lack of Natalie behind him.

“I sent Nat to Stassi’s place first, wanted to have a chat with you.” David explains, watching as your smile falters. “It’s not a bad thing! Sorry, I erm, I just wanted to talk.” David quickly adds as you remain quiet, moving aside as he steps into your house, tension hanging thick in the air.

“So,” You speak up as you close your front door, feeling your heart lodging in your throat. “what’s up?”

Keeping distance between you both, David sighs quietly. “I love you, Y/n.” He starts, taking you by surprise as you cross your arms over your chest. “And I only have my eyes on you, no one else- including Charlotte.” David states, watching as your hands drop to your sides.

“I know that,” You start. “but, just seeing you in the advert and the promotional photos you just,” A long sigh escapes your lips. “I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at me like that before.” The quiet confession hangs between you both as David processes what you’ve admitted, his heart begins to ache.

“Baby,” David coos as he steps forward. “it isn’t about the way I look at you that means I am in love with you. It’s the way I hold you close in my sleep or the fact you give me your leftovers or the inside jokes we have. The fact you make me laugh like no one else or make me smile when I’m struggling.” David knows the list is almost indefinite. “And those are to name a few.” He chuckles, reaching out for your hand.

Squeezing his hand lightly, you lower your head. “I just, I don’t know.” You mutter. “You looked so happy with her.” You comment, but David pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to him as he rests his other hand on your lower back.

“No one makes me as happy as you do, Y/n.” David mutters into your lips. “Never forget that, okay?” He whispers, closing the gap between you both.

“Hey, guys!” Cutting you off before you could kiss him, you whip your head around to see Natalie looking through the front window. “We got a schedule to keep to, glad you made up, but there are another thirty houses to visit.” Natalie calls out, pointing to her watch as David groans into your neck.

“Go on, Dave.” You giggle as he kisses your neck gently. “I’ll still be here later.”

Pulling away from your embrace, David walks towards your front door. “You promise?” He asks, letting his hand slip out of yours.

“I promise.” You smile to him as he opens the front door, slipping out as he and Natalie rush back to the car, carrying on with their PR trip.

[saeyoungs-sunflower]

Strike a Chord (Gavin x MC)

Summary: Gavin learns to face the music.

Prompt: First time they saw each other cry.

Notes: This was part of @belovedstill ‘s New Fandom February event :) so it’s my first fic for MLQC and my fav Gavvy boi (just in time lol) <33 The prompt was also provided by @stehkotori ‘s collaborative writing event ‘Our Firsts’! (Both from discord). Also, do yourself a favour and PLEASE go check out these lovely ladies’ blogs, they are extremely talented and hardworking and I weep a little thinking about it hahah, I promise you won’t regret it!!!💛

Word count: ~2000

(Psst, if you wanna have an idea of what the piece MC plays in this sounds like, I imagined something like this: youtube / spotify) 

***

Another day, another pair of knuckles striking another face, painting another cheekbone red, another eye stained purple.

Gavin stepped out of the teacher’s office, clicking the door shut and sighing as he dragged his feet away. He studied his red and bloodied knuckles as he wandered through the hallways, grimacing as he ran his fingers along a particularly nasty cut.

There was a slight tremor in his hand, the effect of the pure adrenaline that had coursed through his body finally catching up with him. He heavily fell against a locker for a moment, surveying the golden-dipped leaves that whirled around the tattered bench across the path from him. The inevitable crash hit him, like waves against rocks on the shore. He should be going back to class now, he thought, and he almost entertained the idea until piano music began to fill the hollow hallway. The ethereal echo sang to him, calling for him in his temporary haze. A siren in a sea storm.

His budding curiosity got the better of him as his unsteady legs carried him towards the music. It wasn’t unusual to hear students practising during school hours, yet it often wasn’t as pleasant on the ear as it was now.

Gavin wandered past each practise room, only offering a quick glance into each one. All were empty except for one, and his stomach flipped as he did a double take.

It was her. Of course. How had that not been his first thought when the music started playing? Only her music had the power to captivate him so completely.

Rose brushed his cheeks as he found himself staring, yet he was physically incapable of breaking the gaze that focussed in on her hands, as long but delicate fingers danced tenderly across the keys.

It took Gavin a minute longer than it maybe should have to pick up on the subtle glisten that rolled down her cheek and the occasional jerk of her shoulders. She was crying, and the tears continued to run with every second that Gavin remained on the other side of the glass, helpless.

Except he wasn’t, not really. He could walk in there right now and comfort her. It would take no more than ten steps and he would be there for her, just like she was for him the last time she played. How could it be that something which had saved him before was now tormenting her?

Gavin pondered as reached for the door handle, the cool metal against his palm bringing a prominent reality to what he was about to do, and he started to question himself. Whether she would really want him in a vulnerable moment like this, whether he would actually be able to comfort her in the way she needs.

In a rare moment of weakness, Gavin decided he didn’t want to know.

So he walked away from her song, heavy with guilt but heavier with doubt. He would watch over her, like he silently promised her he would, but it was better for both of them this way. He didn’t need to be personally involved to look out for her, and she needn’t bother herself with him.

After all, she was a girl whose hands left subtle fingerprints on keys, whilst his left bruises on skin.

***

She defeatedly slid down the wall and swiped the back of her hand against her brow, wiping away the sweat from her efforts.

Gavin followed close behind, three boxes stacked high in his arms and not even a glisten on his face. His eyes tracked down to find hers, a chuckle escaping his lips at the state he found her in, “Done already? We’ve not even brought up the kitchen stuff.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Gavin couldn’t help but laugh again when she completely sank to the floor, her hand pathetically waving an imaginary white flag in mock surrender. He placed the boxes down, “Okay, I hear you. We’ll take a break before we bring up the rest.”

“You always know what to say to make my heart flutter, Officer.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, but the curving of his lips followed swiftly after. He managed to pull her up to her feet, wrapping her arms around his waist before moving the damp wisps of hair out of her face, “Actually, I have something to show you.”

“Oh?”

He smiled, “Mhm. Come on, let’s have a look round.”

He laced his fingers with hers as they wandered through each room, mentally placing each piece of furniture. The vase that she had bought from the market on one of their first dates would look best on the windowsill, and the lucky elephant figurine that Minor got them as a housewarming gift would beautifully compliment the books on the shelf, standing proudly above the fireplace. The pair couldn’t restrain the smiles that crept up their faces or the occasional squeeze of their intertwined hands. Little pieces of them started to fill the space before they were even out of the boxes, their future unfolding before them.

Gavin stopped her before the conservatory, the curtains drawn and the door locked.

She raised an eyebrow, “Gavin?”

He said nothing, he simply unlocked the door and led her into the bright room. Her eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did her jaw fell slack, her eyes widening.

Standing there splendidly in the centre of the room was a sleek grand piano. There was not a fingerprint or smudge to be seen on its surface, completely untainted, as if it had always been there. Untouched, waiting patiently for her melody.

She looked to Gavin then, unable to formulate words as tears pricked her eyes. She stumbled over a few words of disbelief before Gavin chuckled, taking mercy on the girl, “Somebody owed me a favour, managed to settle on this. Isn’t she a beauty?”

She nodded, her smile reaching her eyes as she lunged towards Gavin, practically leaping into his arms. He caught her, he always did. Enveloping her in his arms, he held her closer, nuzzling into her neck as she spewed her gratitudes.

“Anything for you,” he said, pulling back and looking into her eyes before pressing his lips against her forehead, “Play me something?”

She nodded enthusiastically, plonking herself onto the seat. Gavin slid up next to her, noticing the instant shift in her energy as she admired the keys. She became serene, focussed, pondering over what song she should play for him. With the slight curve of her lips and a glint in her eye, her fingers began to move.

Within the first few seconds, Gavin felt his heart drop.

It was the song.

Not the song that had saved him all those years ago; not the one that had pushed him over the edge, but the one that he heard as he fell for the second time -- fell deeper in love with her. The first real snippet of her that he got; the first time he wanted to hold her, protect her from whatever caused her tears to run. It showed her vulnerability, an intimate moment formed between them unbeknownst to her.

He was so lost in her song that he only registered the tear long after it had fallen. One perfect drop, sliding down his cheekbone to lay rest at the point of his chin, before falling into his shirt. He tried to blink away the remaining moisture in his eyes, but only when he saw the glisten of droplets on her eyelashes did he stop himself.

Here she was, emotionally bare before him, unguarded and unafraid. A piece of music so personal played so freely, for him. The simple idea that he was trusted enough, that she felt safe enough, to be this vulnerable with him and let him into this sanctuary she had created made his eyes burn more, but now he didn’t care. They were on a path to a deeper, more vulnerable place in their relationship with this song, and he would meet her half way.

When her fingers seized, they finally looked at each other, sparkling pool staring into sparkling pool. There was a tender, warm silence shared between them before they erupted in giggles, palms wiping away the aftermath of their shared emotion.

She softly brushed the hair that obstructed the gold of his eyes and cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to fall on hers, “I know why I’m crying, but what’s got you all upset, hm? You never let me see you cry.”

Gavin placed his hand over hers, leaning into her touch, “I’ll only tell you if you go first.”

She told him it was a song her grandfather had composed - for her. It told the story of her childhood, her growing up. She would often hear snippets of it when she visited, always in the background, the soundtrack of her youth. The first time she heard it in full was after he had passed, having left her the score to do with what she pleased. The first time she had heard it in full, was the same time Gavin had heard it in full. Completely unknowingly, by chance, an act of fate.

He could hear it now. The piece was absolutely riddled with her. Everything she was, and everything she became. This song, it was her.

Perhaps that was what pulled him in all those years ago in the barren school hallway. In fact, he was certain that was it. That song was what tied the knot in the rope they held between them, pulling him to shore every time he drifted away.

It was the second time he had been saved by her song, and he was saved every moment after.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve heard this song before? The day you played it in the music room?” he asked, her eyes widening at his confession. He continued, “I saw you, and nearly came in but...I was too much of a coward to go to you. I should have-”

He stopped when she threw her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his clean, fresh scent. He was so silly sometimes.

“You know, after I finished playing that day, I felt a huge wave of relief and...comfort. I thought it must have been the release from all the crying, but from that day I couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching out for me, protecting me. I assumed it was my grandfather looking down, but that never felt right. It didn’t feel like him,” she pulled back, meeting his eyes once again, “But I know now. It was you, wasn’t it? You didn’t need to come in, I felt it. I knew you were there, and that was the greatest comfort I have ever felt. You have a way of doing that, you know,” she rested her head on his shoulder, “Making people feel safe.”

Gavin could hardly keep it together, but he held on long enough to wrap an arm over her and pull her close, planting a long kiss on the top of her head. He focussed on the feeling of her against him, reminding himself that she was there, that he had truly found his way back to her. That, after all his years of doubt and bitter regret, he had never actually failed her.

That was his new favourite song. Not because it saved him, but because it saved her -- saving them.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! Have a lovely day <33

[kythed]

just my cuppa

yamaguchi tadashi x reader

synopsis: a soaking wet, stressed out (y/n) stumbles into cafe-owner!yamaguchi’s coffee shop. 

word count: 1,944

--

The coffee shop is comfortably warm and smells of cinnamon and ginger, a sharp contrast to the heavy autumn rain pelting the pavement outside. Yamaguchi watches water torrent down the windows outside as he meticulously wipes each table, thankful he’s clean and dry rather than braving the storm outside. It’s 9:25pm on a Friday night, approaching closing time. Usually he’d wait until the last minute to start closing up, but there haven’t been any customers since around 8. He hasn’t even seen any passersby since then, just the occasional car splashing through flooded streets, headlights muffled by the deluge.  

So, understandably, he’s surprised to see you stumble in through the door, soaking wet and clutching a sorry looking umbrella. The bell hung on the doorframe jingles cheerfully, and Yamaguchi stares as you exhale heavily and apologetically wring your hands. 

“Uh… hi?” you offer hesitantly, looking rather abashed. “I’m sorry… I was trying to make my way home, but my umbrella snapped and I noticed your cafe was open…” 

Yamaguchi stares at the wet clothes clinging to your frame and the way your shoulders are trembling. “Oh my God. Please, come sit down, let me make you a hot drink or something. It’s gotta be freezing out there; you aren’t even wearing a coat. Come, come.”

“Oh, no, I really shouldn’t track puddles on the floor--”

Yamaguchi ushers you onto a seat at the counter despite your protests and takes your umbrella, setting it to the side. He flies into action, snatching various colored packets and jars of sweet smelling spices. As he sets a kettle of water to boil, you sneeze violently and his eyes widen. “I think I have a towel in the back, I’m gonna go grab it so you can dry off a little.” 

You open your mouth to object but he’s already sprinted into the storage room. In less than a minute he reemerges, cradling a folded towel and a sweater. “Go dry off in the bathroom and change into this sweater. I’m afraid I don’t have any spare pants, but by the time you’ve finished I’ll have that drink ready. Oh, and please, don’t worry about paying-- it’s on me.”

He flashes you a quick smile and you stare, struggling to form words… then you burst into tears. 

Yamaguchi rushes to your side, hesitantly hovering his hands over your shoulders, not sure if he should hug you, comfort you, or what. When he came into work this morning, he did not expect to have a drenched, emotional wreck of a girl stagger into his cafe late at night and start sobbing and dripping on his counter... He settles on patting your shoulder in as motherly a manner as he can muster. “Oh, um, it’s okay, there, there.”

“I’m-- hic-- I’m so sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the edge of the towel. “It’s just, I’ve been having such a hard-- hic-- week, and this is the first nice thing someone’s done for me in a while.” 

“Oh.” Yamaguchi’s heart just melts and he impulsively wraps you up in a warm hug, despite not even knowing your name. This is so improper, he thinks, a little too late. Curse my empathy for crying women. You bury your face in his chest and cry a little more, the exhaustion of the day expelling itself in the form of sobs that rack your body in waves. He rubs your back lightly, something he used to do when his younger sister would cry as a child. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Everything is going to be fine, just dry yourself off and sip a little tea, yeah? Does that sound alright?”

You nod, untangling yourself from his embrace and smiling tearfully. “I’ll go change now. I’m sorry, again, for… everything. I’m pretty sure I got snot on your collar.”

“Stop apologizing,” Yamaguchi scolds, giving you a light push towards the restroom. “It’s not a problem at all.” 

You nod, face hot and eyes puffy, and head into the bathroom, dampening a paper napkin with warm water to dab your face with. You gaze at the girl in the mirror with swollen, tear stained cheeks. How embarrassing to be caught at such a bad time by this kind, attractive stranger… thinking about his gracious smile again sends you into another fit of tears that you quickly brush away.

After you’ve stripped your shirt and dried off as best you can, you slip the sweater over your head. It’s far too large, but the inside is soft fleece and smells of men’s cologne. You inhale deeply, comforted by the spicy, woody scent, and head back into the cafe, where Yamaguchi’s finished up the drink. He slides the steaming mug in front of you, along with a saucer of tiny cookies. 

“It’s Earl Grey,” he says, taking one of the cookies for himself. “You looked like a tea drinker to me. It’s got a bit of milk and sugar, too, so I hope that’s alright.” 

“That’s perfect; thank you so much,” you say, lifting the mug to your lips for a sip. It’s hot and sweet and seems to wash away the acrid taste of the day’s tribulations. “I’m (L/N), by the way. If I’m going to impose on your hospitality a little longer, you might as well know my name.”

“I’m Yamaguchi,” he says, pushing the cookies closer to you. “And I already told you, you’re not imposing. It’s not like I have anything else to do anyways! I was getting bored without anyone coming in-- I haven’t had a customer for hours.” 

“Yeah, it’s no wonder,” you say, eyes wide and nodding vigorously. “It’s practically a hurricane out there. I thought I could make it from work to that bus stop on the corner without getting too wet. I was wrong, obviously.” 

“Oh, where do you work? It’s gotta be pretty close for you to even entertain the idea of stepping out in a storm like this,” says Yamaguchi with a laugh. He takes a hairband from his wrist and begins to absentmindedly tie his long, dark locks into a loose knot, out of which a few strands fall to charmingly frame his face. 

You smile, finally deciding to nibble on one of the cookies. It’s chewy, has a distinctly spiced apple flavor, and immediately boosts your mood. “It’s close enough. I work at the little florist’s shop on Mayweather Ave. You know, near the supermarket.”  

Yamaguchi perks up. “Arrangements by Aiko? The one that always has a few big bundles of bouquets out in front?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one. You’ve been there before?” you ask, swirling the remnants of your tea around the bottom of the cup. 

“No, no, but I drive by every day on the way here. You guys always have the nicest looking flowers.” Yamaguchi refills your drink from the still-steaming kettle without being asked as you murmur a quiet thanks. “How come you’ve never been ‘round here, then? It’s hardly a two minute walk if you hurry. I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered if you ever came in for a coffee.” 

You laugh softly. “There’s a Starbucks up the street from us.”

“Pssh,” Yamaguchi scoffs, crinkling his nose. He’s had a personal vendetta against Starbucks for years. Stupid chain, thinking they’re all that just ‘cause they have a trademark and a logo. “That Starbucks has gotta be at least ten minutes from the flower shop. Plus, I happen to know my vanilla bean frapp is a hundred times better than theirs. They don’t even use real vanilla! Can you believe that? This cafe is obviously superior.” 

“Oh, my,” you gasp, dramatically holding a hand to your chest. “I’m not really a frappuccino person, but that is quite the scandal indeed. Maybe I should stop giving them my valuable business and start coming here instead.”

Yamaguchi nods solemnly, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I think so. Plus, I heard that they don’t give out a discount for pretty girls like we do, something you’d surely benefit from.” 

He smiles shyly, a little surprised at his own boldness, as a splotchy blush rises to your cheeks. You briefly bury your face in your hands, embarrassed, before popping back up with a huge smile. Unable to compose yourself, your next sentence is punctuated by giggles. “Is that so? Well, I guess that seals the deal then.” 

“Mhm,” Yamaguchi agrees happily, immensely pleased with himself. 

You and Yamaguchi pass the next half an hour enjoyably, pleasantly chatting about your jobs, friends, family, and world news until the clock strikes ten and you give a start, remembering you have work early in the morning. “Ah, I should really get going. But again, thank you so, so much for everything and I’m so--”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he interrupts, leaning over the counter to grab a to-go cup and a plastic baggie of cookies. “It’s been my pleasure, seriously. Do me a favor and take these. Then I’ll dial up a cab and we’ll have you home in no time.” 

“At least let me pay for the cab,” you say, exasperated, as he tucks the baggie into your sweater pocket and shoves the cup in your hand. You slowly extract yourself from the cradle of the tall counter chair, muscles stiff. 

“Not a chance,” he says with a sweet smile. “I thought you’d know me better than that by now.”

When the car arrives, Yamaguchi walks you out to the door. A biting cold nips at your noses, but the rain has subsided, at least for the time being. All that remains are the puddles and the slow drip, drip, drip of water rolling off the rooftops. You sigh, breath curling into the crisp air. You bury your hands in the pockets of the sweater Yamaguchi lent you earlier. “I’ll return this to you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, opening the car door for you. “It looks better on you than it does on me, anyways. You should definitely pop in for another drink soon, though.” 

You climb in, careful not to crush the pouch of cookies. “Absolutely I will. Maybe I’ll even try that vanilla bean frapp you were bragging about.”

“You really should,” he says, beginning to close the car door but suddenly freezing in his tracks. “Oh, wait right here for a second.”

He sprints back into the cafe and rushes out again in a lightning fast thirty seconds, clutching a paper napkin. After folding it into a little square, he hands it to you proudly. “Here. I wrote down the code for the discount. Come back with that, and you’ll get two dollars off your next purchase!” 

“Thanks, Yamaguchi,” you laugh, gingerly taking the napkin and sliding it into your pocket, right next to the cookies. Then you close the door, roll down the window, and wave cheerily as the car pulls away from the curb. “I’ll see you later!”

“See you!” Yamaguchi waves until your cab turns a corner, leaving just the faint scent of exhaust. He pumps a fist in the air before spinning on his heel, heading back into the embrace of the warm cafe with a bounce in his step. 

It’s not until you arrive home twenty minutes later, shower, and sit at your kitchen table with a pack of instant ramen on the stove that you remember the little napkin. Unfolding it, you discover that it's not quite a discount code like Yamaguchi claimed. Instead, it’s a phone number accompanied by a poorly drawn teacup with steam rising from its rim. 

You’re a hot-tea! - Yamaguchi Tadashi (part time comedian)

P.S. I lied. Sorry. Not a discount code. But maybe we can arrange some way to get you those two dollars off if you go on a date with me? Let me know.

Shaking your head with a grin, you pull out your phone and punch in the number.

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[prideful-sins]

The Unvarnished Truth; Satan x GN!MC; Smut

A commission piece for @getbehindme-satan who wanted soft Satan smut and a storyline for minor angst, so here we are!

Tags: NSFW//, Satan X GN! MC, Soft Sex, Sensual, Creampie

Word Count: 7K

AO3 Link: Here

Masterlist | Buy Me A Coffee?

--

These last few hours had been torture, some strange spell had taken over The House of Lamentation while you had been at RAD finishing some school work, arguing and shouting between all of the brothers as they were forced to reveal their truths about one another. Apparently Satan had wanted to prank Lucifer and ended up using a more powerful spell than he had intended to, now all of them were under a pact to tell the truth for the next 18 hours, the last 3 and a half had been nothing but shouting, from everyone, and the 30 minutes before that was the revelation.

The common room had all of the brothers in and you had tried your best to walk past without being seen, hoping to get to the kitchen and make a drink so you could get back to your studying but you had been spotted. Your name shouted from five out of seven of the brothers, Satan and Lucifer being the only ones who had decided to ignore, faced away from each other with their arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“MC!” Asmodeus was clinging to your arm, dragging you into the site of conflict, a very loud groan leaving your mouth as you rolled your eyes, “I am the most handsome out of my brothers aren’t I?” Asmodeus’ voice was desperate to know your answer but before you could interject with your opinions Lucifer piped up.

“MC has not been affected by Satan’s immature spell so you won’t get the truth from them, Asmodeus” you looked at the eldest with disdain, Asmodeus sighing as his plan was foiled. He knew that the brothers would respect your word and finding out that Lucifer, Mammon, and, astoundingly, Beelzebub thought themselves more handsome than him had floored the avatar of Lust.

“Lucifer no fair! This is ridiculous, you used to think I was the most beautiful angel in the celestial realm. What changed?” Asmo looked like he was about to cry, his eyes sparkling with new found tears as his brothers looked on to his breaking visage, the new information breaking his spirit in a way he never thought would happen.

Lucifer sighed before taking a step towards you both, intent on leaving the room “Any answer you receive you will not be content with, Asmodeus, this is ridiculous, I am spending the remainder of this time in my study away from all of your prying questions”

“Why?” You heard some of the men gasp as Satan’s voice piped up, “scared we’ll actually get some answers to the question we ask on a constant basis?” All of you, apart from Lucifer, were looking at Satan, his hands on his hips and a red, angry, glow surrounding his aura. 

Lucifer took a sharp breath in before sighing and continuing to walk out, “perhaps, there is a reason I don’t answer them?”

“Because you want to keep us tied to you?”

“Satan, calm down…” Mammon stepped forward with his hands out, in an attempt to calm Satan before he got too ahead of his accusations. You could do nothing but look between them, the tension in the room so thick you could basically see the lightning flashing between stares and glares.

“Yes”, Lucifer clasped a hand to his mouth, eyes wide as gasps echoed through the room.

You attempted to diffuse some of the tension, stepping between Satan and his brother, “Lucifer… he didn’t mean that, it’s a hard question to answer truthfully, especially in one ans-“

“I knew it. You just want to keep us locked up down here, with you!” Belphegor pointed at Lucifer, daggers in his eyes as Beelzebub held him back. Venom was basically dripping from Belphegor’s words, poison spat with the last two.

“I’m keeping you all safe!” Lucifer spun around, hand cutting through the air as silence fell over the room, furrowed brows and agape mouths directed to him. No one spoke, no one dared to, not a single person in that room wanted to break the silence with their words, instead they chose to remain quiet and go their separate ways.

Lucifer turned back around with a huff and stormed off to his study. Mammon sighed and sat down onto the sofa. Leviathan walked off behind Lucifer mumbling to himself about something, Satan stormed into the corner of the room so he wouldn’t have to see the back of his eldest brother. Asmodeus, Beel, and Belphie all sat down together talking amongst themselves about the revelation. All that was left was you. You stood there dumbfounded and at a loss for words, no way of knowing how you wanted to tackle this situation and which one of the brothers to go and check on first.

“MC?” Mammon’s voice cut through the silence, and you turned to face him, a genuine look of concern on the demon of Greed’s face, “are you alright?”

“That was a shit show, Mammon” you sighed and walked over to sit next to him, planting your head in your hands and staring over at Satan. He was sitting in the chair and reading, a pout on his lips and a furrow upon his brow as his hand supported his slightly red face. 

“Yeah you ain't gotta tell me that” Mammon leaned back and held his hands against the back of his head sighing frustratedly, stretching his legs out and letting his tension melt away. “The fact of the matter is that this ain’t gonna be a quiet house until this curse wears off”

You were still staring at Satan, a lovelorn look in your eyes but a naturally furrowed brow. “Mammon, why are things always so complicated here?”

“It’s only natural for demons to run wild, ya know? We weren’t allowed to do much of this when we were angels, got our orders and then we had to stick to ‘em”

“Satan never got that though, did he?”

“Naw, he was born out of Lucifer’s wrath, so he only spent a little while in The Celestial Realm gettin’ to grips with being alive and all, and then suddenly we were at war, and then we were here”

“Do not talk of me as if I am not here.” Satan stood up and glared at the both of you before walking past, presumably to his room or the library. You gave him a sorry look, and stuttered to apologise but it was denied, he had already walked past you with his nose held high and a huff in his breath.

“MC?” Beelzebub called out your name and you looked over, another demon who was concerned for you, “don’t let it get to you” he gave you a soft smile as Belphegor ignored Asmodeus’ pleas for attention.

You replied with your own smile before standing and sighing, “thanks Beel.” The room was cold, the fire doing nothing to ease the freezing tensions of previous confessions.

The house being quiet was alien, there was always an argument, music, conversations happening throughout the halls but not now. It was deathly silent, the soft sound of the teaspoon clinking along the sides of the mug as you stirred the sugar into your tea.

“I wonder if Satan is okay?” You murmured to yourself as you stirred aimlessly, sugar completely dissolved and liquid sloshing around without intent. A few minutes passed before the slamming of a door pulled you from your daydreams, you gasped and proceeded to compose yourself, cleaning off your dishes and walking back to your room.

As you passed Satan’s room you heard what you could only assume were books being thrown about as his voice rang out amongst the desolate stillness. You stopped at the door and knocked lightly, the throwing stopping as a stern statement rang out.

“What?”

“Satan are you alright?”

“No. Do I sound like I’m alright?”

“No…”

“Then go away.” His words hurt but you understood, he needed time alone before he could think rationally about it all and talk about it. He had to let his wrath calm down so you could talk about it, the perks of the Demon of Wrath having a soft spot for you.

“If you need to talk, then please come and see me. Okay?” You awaited his response but nothing came, so unfortunately you had to use a last resort. “Satan, will you come and see me about all of this when you’ve calmed down?”

“Y-yes.” The spell worked and he told you the truth, content with his reply you hummed affirmatively and began to walk back to your room.

Beel came walking down the other side of the hall, towards the kitchen and looking for a snack no doubt.

“Hey, Beel, are you okay?”

“Hungry”

You could see his brows furrowing as his eyes shone with a desperate tone, his stomach growling as evidence of his words. You chuckled and placed a hand on his bicep before stopping and tugging at the clothes, Beelzebub looked down at you with raised eyebrows and gave a confused hum.

“Beel do- do you really think you’re more handsome than Asmodeus?” His eyes widened before he sighed and looked away.

”Hmmmm, yes and- and no, I work hard to keep myself fit, Asmo works hard to keep himself looking like- him- I dunno I just feel like I work more to keep looking this way”

You looked at him with a newfound sense of awe, the gluttonous demon’s honesty making you feel just that little bit sad that his hard work to keep fit and healthy goes more unnoticed than Asmodeus’ work.

“Yeah you do have a point, this honesty thing is really hard to keep black and white when it’s all such a grey area…” Beel smiled at you and placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair slightly and giving a small chuckle.

“It’ll be okay, we have you MC! You always get us out in the end” his reassuring words and smile brought a warmth to your chest, you wrapped your mug free hand around what you could of him and gave Beel a hug, his appreciative hum telling you he enjoyed it.

“There’s a Toad Mucus doughnut in the fridge that has my name on it, you can have it as a thank you” Beel’s eyes widened and he smiled thanking you silently.

You walked off to your room and proceeded to study for the night, cramming in as much research for your schoolwork before heading off to bed, still worried about Satan. He hadn’t come to visit you, even though he said he would and being under a truth spell means he wouldn’t have been able to lie.

Was he still angry? Was his room burning? Was everything smashed? As you spiralled into your thoughts a knock came at the door, and it didn’t even wait for you to say enter before opening. 

Satan stood at the door frame as you popped your head out of the covers, he was dressed down in a t-shirt and some slacks and a slight frown on his face as he stood there. In the dim light he looked so small, frail and fragile as his emotions were laid bare amongst the two of you, his eyes averted as he lingered at the door.

“Do you want to come in?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb his delicate state.

“Yes…” You sat up and pat the space next to you signalling for him to join you. He closed the door and shuffled towards you before kneeling on the bed and sitting down in the space you had pat.

“Are you feeling better?”

He nodded and murmured, “I am”

“Good, I’m glad” you looked down at his hand, resting on the bed, curious whether he’d allow you to take it in this moment of fragility.

The silence was thick and impossible to cut through, you didn’t know what words you wanted to say, or what he wanted to hear. It was just the soft sounds of the echoes in the night, floorboards creaking and the sound of the heating system running through the pipes.

Satan grunted softly as he shifted around, it was so unlike him to come to you without knowing what he wanted, or what he even wished to ask in that moment. You both just sat there in the desolate silence, either enjoying eachothers company or desperately searching for something to break the tension.

“Did you break a lot?” Your voice could barely be heard even though silence was enveloping you both, Satan winced at your words and sighed.

“Yes, I did” you could hear the disdain in his voice, almost frightened by his own anger, as he curled up into his knees, chin resting upon his knees as you stared absentmindedly.

“I’ll help you tidy it tomorrow, would you like to sleep here tonight?” Your question took him by surprise, a gasp echoing into the night as your hands fiddled around with each other anxiously, sweat beginning to pool within your palm.

“I would” seeing his vulnerability laid out so bare just continued to take your breath away, you reached for the duvet and pulled it back, inviting him in. As you both shuffled around in the darkness, legs sliding into the covers and light grunts echoing amongst the rustling of fabric, your hands got tangled and ended up upon each other. Time stood still.

You stared down at your hands, breath hitching in your throat. What should you do? Should you pull away from him? Did Satan even want to hold your hand, was he enjoying this as much as you were?

His fingers curled around yours, body leaning in closer as his other hand came to your arm, thumb tentatively rubbing at your skin, heat crackling out from the contact as your breath quickened. You had no clue how one person could make you feel like this, a simple touch reducing you to a mumbling mess with sweat pooling at the base of your hairline.

His lips were an inch away from yours, hesitation in his breath as his jaw trembled, eyebrows twitching as his eyes darted around your face, taking in your structure, memorising it, making sure he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. Nothing in your language told him to stop, the tremble of your breath merely activated by his intrusion as you leaned your face into his, the skin of your lips barely grazing over one another as your breath intermingled.

“Do you want to kiss me, Satan?” You barely finished your question before he replied, his voice shaking, all the confidence he placed in front of himself before his brothers vanished, the weak side of him being the only part he showed you now.

“I do, I have for weeks… longer than I’d care to admit” he leaned forward and closed the gap lips tingling against each other as your chest fluttered, the feeling that you’d been aching for was finally happening. Satan was kissing you and your whole body was melting into it, your fingers playing around and entwining with his, your other hand reaching out and resting upon his waist.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours, breath trembling as he gave a single breathy chuckle.

“You taste exactly like I thought you would” you returned the laugh and leaned in to kiss him again, pushing your body closer to his and leaning your head into his touch, deepening the kiss. The hand on your arm worked down, along your waist, and rested upon your hip with the tips of his fingers sliding into the hem of your shirt. Satan liften himself onto his knees and crawled towards you, his body over shadowing yours as you leaned back and let him take you.

Your lips battled against each other as the heat kept rising, your bodies desperately trying to get closer as his chest rested upon yours, hand sliding up the crook of your back as his other hand supported his weight. One of Satan’s knees came between your legs, his other touching the side of your leg.

You grunted against his lips as your hand pulled him closer, his moans were soft and mewling, the hand at your side coming to your legs as you anchored it around the back of his knee, the sensation of his fingers sliding along your bare thigh making stars enter your vision.

Your hands tugged at his shirt, eager to remove the clothes, eager to just see and feel more of him within your grasp, his skin burning against your bare knuckles as they grazed fleetingly against his flesh in your hurried attempts to undress.

“Do you want this?” Satan pulled away from you and leaned his forehead against yours, the moment hanging in the air as you both lost yourselves within each other. You nuzzled your head into his just a little and snaked a hand up his shirt, feeling his skin shudder under your finger’s languid gaze.

“I do, Satan, I really do” your reply was hasty, eager to feel his lips upon yours again, your knee lifting up and softly caressing his groin and hardening erection. He sighed happily and returned to kissing you, the hand upon your back coming around and exploring your stomach, a shaky gasp echoing into his lips as your skin burned under the tips of his fingers.

You gripped the bottom of his shirt and tugged it up over his head, forcing both of you to part so you could receive what you so desperately craved. His skin looked flawless, your eyes widening in the dim light as your fingers shakily reached out to caress him. He had seemed so delicate before, you were scared to touch him lest he break under your hungry appetite, eager to have more of him around you, on you, within you. 

“Touch me, please, I need you to” words you never expected to hear from Satan, he always seemed so composed and proud, but he was putty in front of you, half-lidded and desperate.

You nodded and sat up onto your knees, placing your lips upon his chest and dotting soft kisses along the top of his pecs and up his neck. His skin felt so warm, inviting you to touch it all over, your hands running along his chest and caressing the soft blonde hairs as your palms were gliding over his skin. His breath echoed in the night, raspy and desperate, his chest shakily shuddering under your touch. He leaned into your touch as soon as he felt it, your kisses on his jaw causing Satan to dip down into you, your hands drawing his body closer with each slight sensation until he was almost on top of you once again.

“I can’t wait anymore” his voice was low and dripping with his lust for you, a soft sweet melody accompanied by the lyrics you had so desperately craved for him to sing to you. His hand tugged your shirt over your head to reveal your chest, nipples perking up harder at the sudden hit of cool air. Satan wasted no time, he wasn’t joking around when he said he couldn't wait for you any longer, his mouth was already kissing around one of your nipples, and his hand sliding down your shoulder to your chest with the perked bud resting comfortably between the tips of his fingers.

A slight mewl escaped your throat as he licked at your skin, your stomach heating up with the newfound arousal, each touch beckoning you to melt within his grasp. Everytime Satan pulled away you could feel his breath on the wetness of your nipple and each time it drove you crazy, a shudder ringing it’s way up your spine accompanied by a sweet groan of his name. His other hand was stroking along your waist desperate to remain close to you as your body went limp in his grasp.

His knee was between your thighs and softly grinding against your clothed groin, your leg lifting and rubbing on his hip and upper thigh as your hands came to his neck and hair. One cupping his jawline with your thumb softly rubbing against his cheek as your other hand entwined within his golden locks, fingertips massaging his scalp begging him not to leave your chest. Satan was only too happy to comply, his tongue hungrily lapping at the bud, teeth nibbling at the skin, his fingers pinching your arousals, you could hardly control yourself. Your back was arching in pleasure and your hips working against you to grind your groin into his leg just to feel more of him upon you.

Satans lips left your nipple, the bud screaming out for him to return but it was soon silenced as he made his way down your abdomen, leaving a kissing trail so he could find his way back in the darkness. Your hands followed suit, remaining in his hair and upon the side of his neck and softly fondling his skin and hair as he silently worshipped you. Soft kisses and heated breaths were the only thing breaking the sexual tensions along with the soft darling of fabrics against the bed spread.

Satan’s head came to your groin and he nuzzled his nose into the areas just above the waistband of your trousers as his hands cupped the outer sides of your thighs, lifting them up slightly. The demon grazed his nose against the fabric of your crotch before dragging his lips on the inner of your thigh, your stomach flipping as shockwaves coursed through your skin, each nerve on end, every hair standing up as you gasped Satan’s name. His hands were so deft, lightly holding onto your thighs as he kissed your skin, taking your scent in with deep breaths and holding onto it for a few seconds just so he could savour it.

Your hips rolled around as you got more and more aroused, his hands sending flames through your nerves with each passing graze, green fingernails digging into your skin slightly. His lips continued to kiss around both of your thighs, going between left and right and giving them both equal time as he worshipped your skin.

After a while you became restless, wanting to give him a semblance of the same pleasure he was giving to you. You leaned up onto your elbow and threaded your hand back into his hair, alerting him to your ideas, a soft hum escaping him as he understood the look in your eyes.

“Please?” you whispered as he smiled at you, pressing one last kiss on your thigh before crawling back up over you and kissing your lips. In this moment you took it upon yourself to change it over, maneuvering your bodies so you were on top of him, your freshly kissed thigh between his legs and a hand resting upon his stomach. The soft muscle of his abdomen and his barely visible hairs felt upon your fingers as they caressed over his skin, a slight shudder felt through his breath as you leaned into the kiss even more.

His erection was at the forefront of your mind, the clothed muscle grinding softly against your lower stomach as your bodies rubbed together. You parted from his lips but not his skin, darting back to kiss down his chin, down his jaw and ending up on his shoulder sucking softly at the flesh between bites, nibbles, and kisses. It was Satan’s turn to become unravelled, his hips rolling into yours and softly grinding his dick against the bare flesh of your stomach.

You pressed your hand down onto him, silently telling him to desist so you could work your magic. Satan reluctantly stopped his hips and leaned his head back as your hand travelled down, palming his erection over his slacks, a soft gasp escaping his mouth as he sighed in relief. He was warm, even through the fabric, you could feel his dick twitching under your grasp as you massaged it slowly. You leaned down and kissed his chest, getting closer to his nipples with each lingering peck, your hand continued to massage his erection, the soft rustling of fabric against flesh filling the room.

Satan’s breathy moans spurred you on, hand clasping the waistband of his trousers and sliding them down, slowly revealing him in the most teasing of ways. His hips rolled around in an effort to quicken your pace but you kept steady, kissing the area around his nipple and denying him the touch he so desperately craved. A light grunt came from him as he looked up at you, a playful plea in his eye, aching for you to hurry.

The trousers, along with his underwear, were slid down and Satan’s erection popped out, lightly slapping his stomach as his hips jolted up. You smirked against his skin before softly grasping his dick, thumb square on the base of his head and massaging in tiny little circles over one of his veins, and slowly rubbing up and down the top of his shaft.

His breathing was erratic, chest heaving with tiny gasps as his body twitched with pleasure. You brought your tongue down onto the sensitive skin of his nipple and began to lick small, concentric, circles over his hardened bud, and for the first time, Satan audibly moaned. A moan that meant something, it could have been an echo of your name, you couldn’t make it out but this was progress. Satan was opening up and letting you in, letting you see this vulnerable side, the side of him that you drove wild, the side of him that was so obsessed with you that it was hard to even breathe around you without becoming enthralled. 

His whole body was reacting to you, chest heaving with anticipation, hips rolling around with your teasing touches, breath getting hotter with each adrenaline fueled shock to his nerves. You began to pump his dick, hand working slowly along the shaft and keeping in time to the sensual rhythm you had both composed. Satan’s hips were rocking in time with your hand, his legs twitching as your thumbed over veins and skin, breath quickening, then halting as he took your touch in, before exhaling his tensions.

“MC- hah- that fe-” you shushed him as you looked up at his flushed face and knitted brows telling you everything you needed to know. You kissed his chest and began to move your lips downwards planting small smooches along various parts of his stomach and abdomen as you travelled down towards his erection. As you came to his neatly trimmed pubic hair Satan’s breath hitched in his throat, anticipation taking over his whole being as he found himself unable to breathe, hoping to feel the entirety of the pleasure you were about to grant him.

Your hand was still on his shaft, body sliding between his legs as you had travelled further down the bed. You kissed around the base of his dick, towards his balls, and moved his dick to softly graze along your cheek as you passed. The tiniest breaths escaped Satan as he looked down at you worshipping his skin with the daintiest of kisses dotted around his balls and the base of his dick. His hands gripped the bedsheet beside him, his knuckles bare white as your lips kissed up and along his shaft.

As you came to the tip you looked up at Satan and smiled at him, admiring his desperate lust and breathy sighs. Your hand pumped his dick a few more times as your lips were teasingly smiling against the tip, his breathy pleas becoming more erratic, brows furrowing down as he got impatient. You smirked before sticking your tongue out and licking along his slit, the precum dripping from the hole salty upon your tastebuds. Satan hissed in pleasure and his head dropped back onto the bed as your tongue licked up and down along the slit of his head.

A low moan escaped him as your tongue rolled it’s way around his dick, slicking it up with your spit before taking it within your mouth and bobbing your head up and down the top of his shaft. Another moan, slow and drawn out, as you took him within your mouth and moving your head up and down, your hand clutching the base and massaging it gently with the tips of your fingers digging in slightly. Satan’s hips began to rock slightly as he lifted the sheets within his hands, fabric rustling along with the soft mewls of the night. Satan’s soft grunts and moans as you pleasured him only made you want to continue like this, keeping him all to yourself but the deepinging hunger in your stomach only demanded that he pleasure you, too.

It had been a few minutes of your mouth around Satan’s cock, his hips rolling around as he panted in agonistic pleasure. You pulled off of him, enticing a small whine as he looked at you with lust-filled, half lidded, eyes that screamed for release. His face was flushed, eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you with an open mouth and heaving breaths.

“MC?” Satan’s voice was shaky as he leaned up on his elbows, releasing the bed sheets from his grasp and lifting his knees slightly as you dotted kisses around the base of his stomach, slowly making your way up to his chest and sucking lighty at a spot upon his neck causing his to suck in another breath and to wake him from his lustful hypnosis, and wake up he did. His hand came to your waist and you both moved around with each other, his leg coming between your knees as he kissed your lips deeply. 

Satan moved his face and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck and began to bite and suck at the skin of your shoulder, his hand slowly moving down to your waistband as his finger tips danced around the skin of your stomach taking in all of the crevices, every dip and turn of your flesh bore into his mind as he memorised your body through his touches. Everywhere he felt you sent tingles through your body, the heat in your stomach rising as he closed in on the waistband of your trousers.

As Satan’s fingers slipped into your clothing, under the trousers and within your underwear, you rocked your hips into his waiting touch. The sensation of him touching you was heaven, coupled with the feeling of his lips upon your skin causing you to become winded. His teeth softly biting down into your flesh a small amount of pain but mostly pleasure, the adrenaline covering anything that wasn't rapture in that moment. You could feel his tongue within his mouth as he bit you, rolling around on your skin desperately marking you as his with saliva.

His fingers slid down further and you raised your knee to accommodate the invasion, his fingers slick with your horny juices as he travelled further to your hole. Your trousers became a nuisance, getting in the way of his conquest. He huffed and moved back to rip them from you before taking his own off, leaving you both naked and desperate. No time to admire before he places your leg over his shoulder, leaning your body to the side while he sucked on the fingers he was going to enter within you, slicking them up for his grand entrance.

Once again Satan leaned down to kiss you while placing his fingers at your hole, one of the tips circling around slightly as your hips twitched into the touch. You brought your hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks, your fingers pushing away and entwining within the strands of hair that had fallen onto his face and stuck to the sweat of his brow. Your knee anchored on his hip as Satan tentatively inserted a finger within you, the tip moving further and further in, slowly and timid as your breath hitched within his mouth. You sucked in his remaining air as your back arched and your lips were ripped away from his, a sharp breath at the feeling of his finger within you, stretching your hole just a little.

“Hah!” a shrill gasp as Satan curled his finger within you and you felt yourself stretch just that little bit more, he smirked at the twisted pleasure on your face admiring the way he made you feel under his hands. Once again he memorised the way you looked right now, making sure he could remember it or time later in his life where, perhaps, you weren't around for him to have an, up and close, personal view. Another finger was inserted within you as Satan made an appreciative grunt, admiring how you were writhing and moaning along with his fingers.

“MC you look so beautiful” he whispered into your ear and you smiled in response taking fistfuls of his hair and softly pulling him towards you to plant a kiss on his lips as he thrusted his fingers within you, deeper and deeper until his knuckle was rubbing against your ass cheek. You were moaning into his lips and grinding into him with your hips, your groin slightly grazing against the skin of his thigh in an eager attempt to feel more of him on you.

With each thrust of his fingers your stomach flipped, an echoing chasm of arousal that sparked each nerve in your body as Satan’s fingers worked within you. It hadn’t been long but you could already feel your orgasm rising, that unmistakable thrumming of your groin as your muscles lightly contracted around his digits.

Satan’s fingers stopped and he smirked into your kiss, “already?” Pride was radiating from him as he slipped his fingers out of you, your hands unthreading from his hair as the thrum of your arousal dimmed down, still there but becoming dormant. Your breath was no longer quick and raspy; it mellowed out as you leaned towards Satan, slowly lifting your body up and dragging your hands down to his waist.

“Satan I-” you kissed his lips and began to move yourself around, switching your positions one more time, “-let me touch you, please?” Satan stuttered, his eyes glazing over as he darted between your own. Hesitantly he nodded, pride receding back as he let himself calm down once again, you understood him so well. Asking permission for you to see him in this vulnerable state only made him care for you more, he wanted to show you it, he craved the intimacy of you knowing him like that.

You smiled and took a breathy sigh, reassuring yourself and letting Satan feel comfortable with his decision. The sheets rustled as you moved down between his legs, your arms sinking below his thighs and pulling them up over your shoulders as you lay down between his knees. His dick lightly hit his stomach as you liften Satan’s hips and spread his ass cheeks, showing you his asshole.  Your hands were cupping a cheek each and you licked your lips in anticipation of your next meal, his ass looked so inviting and the blush dusting his cheeks only attested to that.

With desperate anticipation you leaned down and licked at his hole his thighs shuddering against your shoulders as Satan gasped in pleasure once more. He tasted immaculate and your tongue only wanted to go deeper, you rolled it around the tight skin and savoured his flavour listening in on the sharp breaths of his pleasure. Satan’’s cock started twitching as you ate him out so you reached one of your hands over and began to pump it, lightly grasping the flesh and massaging it gently. 

Satan moaned out your name as his thighs twitched and convulved next to your head, your own sense of pride radiating from within as he melted in your grasp. Once again he gripped the bed sheets to ground himself in his euphoric moans, your name cascading from his lips as his legs twitched in pleasure. You relished in his delighted whimpers, over stimulated with pleasure from your tongue and hand.

“M-Mc I’m-” Satan’s hips were bucking around, restless with their movements, a sweat once again on his brow as his orgasm drew near.

“Hush darling”  you whispered, bringing your mouth away from his ass and kissing along the skin as you lay his hips back down onto the bed. All the way up his body Satan trembled at each kiss you dotted upon his skin, your legs coming to each side of his hips as you leaned down, ass in the air, and kissed his nipple. “Are you ready?”

“I am, I- I’m already close though” you smiled at him and cupped his cheek with your hand, “don’t you worry about that” he needed the reassurance that you would be fine if he came first. Satan smiled back and brought his hand up to yours to grasp it lightly. You leaned down and kissed his hand, then his forehead, and finally, his lips, before lowering your hips down and teasing your hole above his penis.

You rocked your hips against the tip of his cock, slightly taunting him as you kissed Satan deeply. His breath hitched as you slid yourself down and slowly entered him within you, a shockwave rupturing your nervous system as you finally got the satisfaction of what you had been craving. Satan hissed and pulled away from your lips his hand gripping yours as his breath hitched once more. You continued to slowly sink down onto him, his dick filling you up in all the right ways as your breath quickened, that pit in your stomach echoing into your chest as pleasure took over your soul.

A soft moan escaped both of you in unison, the feeling obviously mutual as both of you sighed in pleasure. Satan brought his hands to your hips as you lifted them up, your chest tightening as his dick pleasured you, electric running through your veins as you continued to fuck him. Your legs twitched at his sides and Satan’s convulsed behind you as you connected, the light slapping of flesh and your breathy moans ringing within the room as your muscles screamed out in rapture.

Satan became more confident as you both continued, anchoring his feet into the bed and lifting you up with his hips before dragging himself out of you and slamming himself within you. With each thrust of his hips your vision became clouded, words struggling to form within your head, all you could think about was the insurmountable pleasure you were receiving from Satan in this moment. Your moans became mindless babbles and the same happened for Satan, his thrusts becoming erratic and out of rhythm as fatigue pooled in droplets of sweat upon his brow.

You leaned down and kissed him, planting your hips onto his and forcing them down onto the bed once more, and then with your own rhythm you took over the pleasure. Both of your brows were knitted together and you sloppily kissed each other through the gratuitous sex, Satan’s dick touching your walls in every heavenly way you could imagine as you lifted and lowered yourself onto him.

His hands gripped at your hips, fingernails digging into your skin, before muttering your name through his raspy moans. His legs were twitching and you could feel the tension within his body as his orgasm climbed, you were closing in too but not as near as Satan.

“I- I’m-”

“Cum for me Satan, please?” You begged him in a hushed tone, lips right by his ear as he gasped in satisfaction. His breath was shaky as he nodded silently, eyes glazing over with tears as he absent-mindedly thrust his hips into you a few more times before crying out in a muffled whimper as he came within you. His cock pumping his seed into you as Satan’s chest heaved with his rapturous breaths, stray tears fell from his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling of your room. As he came down from his high you kissed his cheek and nuzzled your nose into his skin, offering him reassuring compliments.

“You didn’t cum, here let me” his dick was still within you but Satan moved his hand to your groin and began to massage you, the still waters of your orgasm once again rekindled as your hips moved with his fingers, you had been close before and the edging had only done wonders for your climax as his fingers danced and maneuvered around the most sensitive points. Your breaths became loose once again, disheveled through his tender touches, and soon enough you were cumming. Your back arched, planting your chest against his, as you muttered his name over and over again into his ear, your walls closing around his softening dick within you in sheer pleasure.

“Hah- hah- ahh~” you could do nothing but breathe your moans as you came down, the orgasm taking any energy you had previously causing you to slump on top of him, Satan’s hand wrapping around you and pulling you in close with nary a hair between your skin.

“That was-” he smiled with a breathy chuckle, “amazing”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean it. All those night’s yearning to know what you felt like within my arms, I’m glad to know it’s better than I was letting myself believe”

“I feel the same” you lifted yourself up and placed a kiss on his cheek, stopping to appreciate the lovelorn glaze over his eyes.

“We should go to sleep soon,” he admitted with a tone of disappointment.

“At least we’ll wake up next to each other” you kissed him again before peeling yourself off of his chest, your sweat mixed in together with each other’s juices. “I’m going to go and clean up, okay? I’ll be back soon” Satan nodded and you quickly redressed and left for the bathroom.

Once you returned Satan was fast asleep on your bed with his boxer shorts hastily pulled on in his tired state. You smiled and walked over to join him, pulling the sheet over you both and placing a small kiss on his forehead, your own silent goodnight.

[dindjarindiaries]

Pretty Please

gif via @pedropcl​

summary: You’ve developed feelings for Javier, but you’ve been great at concealing them—until now. You find yourself wanting him now more than ever, and you’re not sure you can take it anymore. (As inspired by Dua Lipa’s “Pretty Please”)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: sexual themes, pining, non-descriptive sexual content

rating: R

word count: 4.256k

masterlist

You must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning—or, rather, inside the wrong bed.

The feeling is sudden and it’s sticking within you. Even as you’re rushing through your morning routine as usual, sliding on your tight-fitted jeans and buttoning up your three quarter-sleeve dress shirt, you can’t help thinking about them coming right back off. You’ve even decided on wearing your best matching set, hopeful that the black lace still remains concealed underneath the purple hue of your shirt. Though, you wouldn’t mind a certain pair of eyes noticing.

You blink a few times, shaking your head. No, you chastise yourself. You can’t give in. You can’t do this.

But you know the truth. You can’t resist anymore. You need Javier fucking Peña just as badly as he needs his cigarettes.

You’ve been trying to avoid this for so long. Coming to work in Colombia wasn’t supposed to mean pining after one of your new partners, but almost as soon as you acquainted yourself with Javier, you were a sucker. His charm, his wit, and his goddamn sex appeal were just too much to resist. It only got worse when you actually learned more about him, joining him and Steve on after-work ventures either to a bar or just a restaurant to get away from the stress of work. You’ve discovered that he’s extremely protective, quite caring, and very passionate—and that just makes you want him more. In multiple ways.

Today, a certain way seems to be making itself very known as your mind can barely focus on whatever you’re doing. When you’re brushing your fingers through your hair and adjusting it to your usual style, you imagine his fingers running through it, tugging on it, even panting into it. When you’re applying your light lipstick, you picture the way his lips would look after crashing against yours, taking some of the color onto his own but caring less in the heat of desire. Even when you’re grabbing your keys and getting into your car, you imagine yourself trapped between the seat and him, hands exploring each other with absolutely no destination in mind.

You try to think about anything else, but you can’t. You continually curse to yourself under your breath. If you can’t get rid of these thoughts, then work’s going to be a shitshow, considering you have to stare at Javier’s face the entire day whenever you’re at your desk. With absolutely no interesting information on Escobar, you know you’re bound to another day full of paperwork at your desk with Javier sitting just a few feet away—which means you’re in deep shit if you can’t get your frustrations under control.

Once you get to the office, you park and take a deep breath, looking at yourself in the rearview mirror and flashing a confident smile. That look falters when you notice Javier’s car pulling in from behind you, and your head turns to see him pulling up right next to you. Swallowing hard, you instantly look back to the wheel. Calm down, you tell yourself. It’s fine. You’ve worked here everyday with this man for months now. It won’t be any different today.

But then he gets out of his car flaunting a bright red shirt, and damn, does red look good on him. You find yourself biting the corner of your lip as you practically undress him with your eyes, studying the usual way he leaves a few buttons undone. You’re lucky he never notices as he strolls inside, especially since your eyes fell to his ass quite a few moments ago. With yet another shake of your head, you curse and slam your hands against the wheel, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

When you manage to at least fool yourself into thinking you’re composed, you finally step out of your car and start to head inside. Your mind goes blank as your eyes watch the tile floor underneath your feet, and you only look up when you know you’re coming upon your cluster of desks. Steve and Javier are both there, and Javier’s already on his first cigarette as you toss your keys onto your desk and pull out your chair.

“You’re later than usual,” Steve observes, looking at you with a raised brow. “Usually Javi’s the one I gotta worry about.”

“Oh, fuck off, Murphy,” Javier jokes, scoffing as he takes a drag of his cigarette. You sit down slowly as you watch his action more closely than usual, seeing the way his lips close around the cigarette and then separate ever so slightly to let the smoke escape.

No, fuck me.

Your eyes widen at your own thoughts, your eyes darting away from Javier quickly as you instead look blankly at the files already awaiting you on your desk. You almost think you’ve somehow managed to get away with your strange behavior until Steve speaks again. “You good over there?” You look up, seeing Steve looking at you through narrowed eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a goddamn ghost or something’.”

You chuckle, hoping it doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels as you open up your first file. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “Let’s just say I had a rough night.”

Steve whistles, and Javier sets his cigarette onto the ashtray as he looks over at you with a single raised brow. You try to ignore the way your entire body practically hums at his attention. “Who was it?” Javier asks, the simple sound of his roughened voice practically making you beg for him right then and there.

Yet, still confused by his question, you tilt your head at him. “What?”

“Who’d you fuck?” Javier’s voice is casual, but with all the thoughts that have been swimming through your mind so far today, you nearly choke upon hearing the words. You manage to grit your teeth before you can get the words I wish it was you out of your mouth.

“Jack Daniels,” you confess, impressed with the way you’ve lied so effortlessly. Steve chuckles, and Javier’s mouth makes an “o” in understanding as he turns back to his work. The action still makes you bite your lip, and you start to bury yourself into your work before your mind can think up more things to drive you absolutely crazy.

After at least an hour spent in silence while the three of you shuffle through paperwork and try to ignore the fact you’re bored out of your minds, Steve breaks it. “I can already feel this damn heatwave,” he mutters, starting to fan himself with an empty folder.

“Heatwave?” you echo, looking up from your paperwork curiously.

“Yeah,” Steve responds. “It’s supposed to be hot as hell tonight. I was trying to get Connie to cancel our date because of it, but she’s a stubborn one. You didn’t hear about it?”

You let out a huff. “No, I must’ve missed it somehow.” You curse to yourself, suddenly feeling the intensified heat as you adjust yourself in your chair.

“I’m surprised,” Javier’s voice suddenly joins in, and you look over to see him giving you an amused expression. You practically melt into your chair upon seeing the way his dark gaze glitters at you. “You’re always on top of things.”

I’d like to be on top of you. Your mind thinks the words without hesitation, and you nearly spit them out before you manage to catch yourself again. “Like I said before, rough night.”

Javier lets out a low chuckle, a sound that practically radiates from your head down to your very toes. “Sounds like it.” He pauses for a moment, flipping open a file and looking at you briefly between his lashes. “Should’ve invited me.”

You nearly gasp upon hearing his words, instead managing to keep it cool as you shrug. “Next time.”

Javier offers you a small smile, returning to his work shortly thereafter. You know that on any other occasion, that whole exchange would’ve been fine—but now, with your mind running in such an intense direction, you feel as if you’re about to explode on the spot. The rising temperature of the building doesn’t help, and soon you’re joining Steve in the attempt to fan yourself with a nearby folder.

Things only worsen as the day continues. The heat’s getting unbearable, and the three of you are now visibly being affected by it. Your sinful gaze, of course, continually glances towards Javier, and you shrink a bit in your seat when you observe the bead of sweat that falls from his temple. It moves slowly against his tanned skin, as if mocking you for being unable to touch his skin in such a manner, and dips over his jaw to his neck. You lick your lips as you watch it travel down the length of his throat, finally pooling into the notch of his jugular and joining the rest of the perspiration on his glowing, exposed chest.

Damn.

You have to drop the pen that’s been in your hand and rest your elbow against the desk, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeeze your eyes shut. The fact that this is affecting your work is making it dangerous, but you can’t help it. You need him. It’s so overwhelming that it’s practically suffocating you—but you can’t give in. It’ll be like giving oxygen to a raging fire. You have to keep it concealed.

Willing the strength to do just that, you take a deep breath, opening your eyes again and letting your arm fall from the desk. You use your hand to release a few of the buttons on your shirt, needing to let your chest breathe in the midst of this heat. It would’ve been fine had you not felt a burning gaze coming from the same direction you’ve been looking in all day, and when your eyes raise to view him again, you notice him watching you from his peripherals. Thinking he likely hasn’t noticed you’ve caught him, you see his eyes explore whatever he can of your exposed chest, and his Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows hard and looks back to his own files.

You nearly collapse from your chair on the spot. Holy fuck.

Staying concealed is suddenly a lost cause. The temperature feels as if it’s risen by tenfold, and you find yourself brushing away a bead of sweat from your forehead as you try your very best to focus on your work. Things are muffled, but you manage to make some progress for another hour until you notice Javier staring again. This time, though, he’s truly looking at whatever you’re reading, as if he’s studying the words on the page. His gaze then looks up to yours, and it’s almost as if you see a light bulb go off over his head.

“Hey, do you mind if I take that for a second?” Javier asks you, gesturing to the file you have opened.

How about you take me right here, right now, on this desk? You make a valiant effort to swallow the words back. “Yeah, of course,” you answer, handing the file over to him. Javier gives you a nod in thanks, and you simply manage your best smile as you watch him look between the file you’ve given him and the papers on his desk. His eyes widen, and soon he’s standing up to walk over to your desk. He places the papers side-by-side in front of you, one of his hands leaning on your desk as the other rests on the back of your chair. You nearly freeze, squeezing your legs together at his sudden close presence.

“See this?” Javier questions, looking over to see if you’re following where he’s now pointing his finger. You nod—knowing your brain’s in a complete fog and you’re definitely not going to process anything he says next—and you resist the urge to completely breathe in the smell of his fading cologne and smoke. Javier goes on to point out some kind of consistency between the two files, but all you can do is focus on the heat that radiates from him and nod as if you understand. It gets especially difficult when he brings one of his hands to his forehead, wiping away some of the sweat that’s gathered there. You bite your lip, trying harder than ever to focus on the papers.

But you just can’t. I can’t fucking take it anymore.

You’re about to whisper something dangerous into his ear when he suddenly pulls away, taking the files from your desk. “I’ll type something up,” he tells you, returning to his desk as he reaches for his typewriter.

“That’ll be great, Javier,” you say, earning a nod as he focuses in on typing whatever the hell he’d been trying to tell you earlier. You let out a huff, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking from the brief interaction.

This man’s going to be the end of you.

It’s nearing the end of the work day, and Javier’s still typing away vigorously. You’ve noticed that he’s been sweating a lot more just from taking up a slightly more demanding task, and you’ve tried to stop watching the beads of sweat fall down his face—but it’s not to much avail. At one point, though, he stops typing, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. His mouth opens just a bit, and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to try to keep your mind from running. Yet, it’s already taken off. You’re suddenly wishing you could be under his desk.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Javier grumbles, wiping his hands over his face and wiping them on his thighs. He looks over at you, gesturing to the longer sleeves on your shirt. “I don’t know how the hell you do it.”

You shrug, trying to get words through your tightened throat. “You get used to it.”

“You’d think she’s the one that’s been living here longer,” Steve jokes, standing up from his desk and collecting his things as he speaks. He looks up to see Javier giving him the finger, causing him to snort. “I’ll see you two tomorrow. Let’s hope I don’t burn to death on this date.”

“I hope you do!” Javier calls after him.

“Fuck you, Peña!” Steve remarks without looking back.

“Gladly!” Javier exclaims, laughing to himself before he returns to his typing.

It’s finally your chance to escape the hell that’s been today’s torture. You stand up and get your belongings together, watching to see if Javier looks your way. He doesn’t, as he’s already focused back in to his work. “I’m headed home,” you inform him. You successfully draw his attention, almost falling to your knees when you catch his gaze looking you up and down momentarily. “Don’t stay here all night, Javi.”

Javier chuckles and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’ll try not to.”

You try to return his look, beginning to turn and walk out. You stall, however, when Javier calls out your name quickly. Your head turns to face him, and you see his brow lifted in concern.

“I just wanted to ask, are you sure you’re okay?” Javier’s dark gaze is sparkling with hope—hope that you’ll tell the truth. You swallow hard. “You just don’t seem like yourself today.”

You want to melt upon receiving his tender care, especially when you hear the sincerity in his tone. Yet, you know you can’t tell him the truth, and so you give him a nod. “I’m alright, Javi. Just succumbing to this goddamn heatwave.”

Javier exhales and widens his eyes for a moment. “Understandable.” He nods once. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You simply choose to give him yet another nod, turning back around and nearly speed-walking to your car. Once inside, you let out a heavy breath, running your hands down your face. You can’t believe you’ve managed to make it through the day, and you can only hope that you get your act together. Still, you can feel yourself wishing you’d gotten what you needed, but you push back the feeling as you head back to your apartment.

Once inside, all you can think about is the heatwave. The air conditioning unit in your apartment does a relatively good job at keeping you cool, but it’s still much hotter than usual, and you find yourself quickly exchanging your work clothes for a simple pair of cloth shorts and a V-neck as you prepare yourself a small dinner. By the time you finish, Javier’s completely left your mind for the first time today, and all you can think about is drowning yourself in the glass of condensing water you have in your hand.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at your door. You put down the glass and furrow your brow, walking over to it and checking the peephole. You’re in disbelief when you see who it is, and you open the door quickly to see a disgruntled Javier standing there.

“I’m sorry to… uh, interrupt.” You watch as his gaze temporarily falls from your eyes to your chest, and you look down to see part of the lace from your bra peaking out from the collar of the shirt. Your cheeks heat up, and when you look back up at Javier, you see that his gaze has returned to yours. He clears his throat. “I just—my air conditioner’s a piece of shit, and it just broke. I was wondering if I could crash here until I cools down later tonight.” He holds up the bottle he has in his hand. “I brought some whiskey.”

You laugh, stepping aside to make room for him. “Of course, Javi.” He walks through the door, and you close and secure it behind him, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes. Keep yourself together, you tell yourself. You can’t think like you did earlier. Yet, as soon as you turn back around, you notice that Javier’s now unbuttoned practically half of his red shirt, exposing a much larger amount of his chest to the cooler air of your apartment.

Well, fuck.

You stroll over to where Javier’s sitting at your kitchen island, grabbing two clean glasses from the cupboard and letting Javier distribute some of the whiskey into them. You start to sip at yours, completely unable to think of anything rational to say. All you want to do is admit that you��d rather taste his lips than the whiskey, but you know you can’t, and so you continue to let the alcohol burn down your throat. You watch as Javier observes this, soon letting a low chuckle rumble from his chest.

“You know, it’s real funny to me,” Javier suddenly says, letting out a sigh as he leans back in his chair. He takes a swig of his whiskey, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “I just can’t believe you’re standing here right now, not mentioning anything about today.”

You swallow hard, slowly resting the glass of whiskey onto the counter as your gaze with him never breaks. “What do you mean? The files?”

Javier shakes his head, a smirk stuck on his lips as he also rests his glass onto the countertop. “No, not the goddamn files.” He raises his eyebrow back at you. “The eye-fucking.”

Your eyes nearly double in size at his words. “Javi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Javier sighs as he stands from his chair, slowly making his way over to you. “You really thought I didn’t notice all of that?” He lets out another chuckle, shaking his head as he looks down at you. “You were practically in a daze, hermosa. I’d recognize that look anywhere.” Your gaze falls to the floor, embarrassment pulsing through you as you stand dumbfounded at the counter. You see his feet stop just in front of you. “I thought maybe you’d tell me earlier, but you’re a tough one to crack.”

You look back up but continue to avoid his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Javi, I don’t know what got into me today. I just—.”

You stop when you feel Javier’s fingers touch your chin, forcing you to look back into his eyes. His gaze is even darker than usual, and your stomach twists in pleasant knots when you study his expression further. “What you didn’t realize was that I was doing the same exact thing back to you.” His hand brushes up along your jaw, his fingertips sending shivers through your spine as he tucks your hair behind your ear. He leans forward so that his lips are brushing against your ear. “Were you also imagining those different scenarios? Sneaking away to the car, or just being taken right there on the desk?” Javier pauses to chuckle lightly. “You were driving me crazy.”

Unable to believe it’s actually happening, you let out a struggled breath, watching Javier’s gaze only darken more at the sight of your pure instability at his words and touches. He pulls himself completely away from you, raising his brow at you once again.

“Is that what you want? Do you want me, hermosa?”

You’re so close to just flinging yourself onto him, but you try to retain some sort of self-control, swallowing hard as you finally get the words out. “Please,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper.

“What was that?” Javier teases, stepping even closer to you. You’re eye-level with his glistening chest now, and you’re absolutely certain you’re going to fall apart at the seams.

“Pretty please,” you nearly whimper, unable to hold yourself back any longer.

“Since you asked so kindly,” Javier assures you, and no later does his arm wrap around your waist as he pulls your body flush against his. Within seconds, his mouth’s on yours, and you drown in the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his breath as you press your tongue against his. You nearly melt at the relieving feeling of his touch, especially as his hands glide over your ass and touch the bare skin of your thighs. He lifts you so that your legs wrap around his waist, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your hands—once unable to leave his face—start trying to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Javier stops the kiss to laugh against your lips, starting to make his way towards your bedroom. “At least wait until we get somewhere, hermosa.”

You let out a curt laugh before reattaching your lips to his, unable to get enough of the feeling. As soon as you’re inside your bedroom and Javier’s eased your back onto the bed, all clothing’s strewn to the floor and you’re sure you’re not helping Javier with the situation of trying to stay cool. Your lips are already swollen when he pulls away to rest his sweating forehead against yours, looking deep in your eyes for a moment.

“Before we go any further,” Javier starts breathlessly, “I need you to know that I haven’t been wanting you like this just because of your body, like you might think.” Javier pauses, as if he’s searching for the right words to say. “I’ve wanted you in this way and many more for a long time now. I—.”

“This is all really sweet, Javi, and I’d love to hear more,” you cut him off. “But please, I’ve been waiting for this for way too fucking long, so please wait to tell me the rest after.”

Javier chuckles at your desperation, giving you a reassuring nod as he reconnects his lips with yours. The next few minutes feel like heaven on earth, even if the temperature represents something more like hell. Your bodies together create a heat that rivals the wave spreading throughout Medellín, and even hotter are the words you share with each other. The confessions, the utterances, the way you say each other’s names—it’s enough to turn this heaven into something much more sinful. Everything that’s been building up for so long is seeking release, and you can feel the opportunity approaching the faster things start to go. With your fingers practically embedded into his slick back and his holding you in place beneath him, Javier urges you to finally follow through with what you’ve been waiting for so relentlessly. His mouth covers yours just in time to muffle your voice, and he’s not too far behind from getting that same relief before he rests beside you. He looks over at you, laughing a bit as his fingers brush over your cheek.

“Was it worth the wait?” Javier questions, and you giggle as you let your face fall into his slick neck.

“Hell yeah,” you admit, feeling his throat vibrate against your lips as he chuckles. You close your eyes as you absorb the euphoric feeling you’re drowning in. “So, can I hear the rest of that speech now?”

Javier runs a hand through your messy hair. “What’s the magic word?”

You smile against his neck. “Pretty please?”

[anotherhargrovebitch]

call me baby again, please : b.h

this is part two of don’t call him baby. heavily requested and thanks for the support, glad you enjoyed part one enough for this to be continued. (1.6k)

(there will be a part three/final part and it’ll be up over the weekend) 

* stranger things writing * 

one // two // three 

He’d never seen you happier, and it hurts to admit that it’s the truth. You were beaming, happily serving every customer as you sway with joy from the various rails you reorganise. It doesn’t matter about the teenagers who conversed through the garments, ruining the order you spent hours working on. For once, it really didn’t matter to you.

Billy would only see mere minutes of your days whenever he wasn’t working at the pool. Max didn’t have to ask for a lift anymore. Instead, Billy offered. At first, Max was wary of his intentions but when she walked into The Gap to see you working there, it all clicked into place.

What Billy noticed more often than anything else was the skip in your step as you wandered out from the store. He saw your hips swaying and longed to hold you again.

Your fingers tapped on the escalator as you rose to the food court and walked into Scoops Ahoy! with pure happiness in your expression; something Billy hasn’t felt since he broke your heart nearly a year ago.

You had moved on, and Billy was trying. At least, he told himself he was trying to by flirting with Karen Wheeler, but that was just to occupy him for a while. When he was left alone it hurt the most, the memories of what he once had lost. And it’s his own fault for his wandering hands and mind.

In the back of your mind, Billy hovered there. Whenever you heard his name being mentioned in a conversation you tense. You hear snippets of these discussions, listening in as girls say he’s his old self. How Billy the ‘bitch killer’ was back.

You tried to ignore the small slice that glides over your heart, that old wound close to healing. But you smile as the sweet scent of ice cream fills your nostrils, and the laughter shared between Steve and Robin.

Walking up to the counter, Steve keeps his back turned whilst Robin faces you. “Customers, dingus.” Robin motions and Steve rolls his eyes before turning around.

“Ahoy, Sailor!” He yells with a forced enthusiasm as he faces you, immediately regretting the greeting as you stifle back a laugh. “Don’t you even think about laughing,” He raises a finger to you, watching as you keep a straight face and shake your head.

“I can’t promise I won’t.” You reply with a small smile lacing your lips, one Steve always forgives even if it’s making light-hearted fun at him.

“Every time.” Robin mutters as she goes to the stockroom, pulling out the board and marking yet another on the ‘you suck’ side.

Leaning against the counter, your eyes flutter down to the same selection of ice creams. Steve watches as you hum to yourself, your nails tapping on the counter absentmindedly.

“Same as always, Y/n?” Steve questions, catching your eye as he raises an eyebrow to you, only to receive a bright smile in response.

Lifting yourself up from slouching over the counter, you eye up your choices once more. “How about strawberry?” You suggest, and Steve pulls a face in surprise. “Gotta be more to life than butterscotch, Stevie.” You chuckle, watching as he passes you a small spoon to sample.

Outside the shop, Billy watches from across the escalator. He sees Steve in that dumb sailor hat that he’d love to knock off that head of hair, but he can’t. He lost his chance, especially after he caused a few injuries over last summer.

“Hey, Billy.” Turning his head, he forces a smile to a series of girls who crowd around him. 

“Hi.” Billy huffs, glancing back into the shop, ignoring the giggles and flirtatious comments from the girl's eye-fucking him. 

And as always, Billy watches as Steve removes his little hat and places it on your head. You look adorable, and Steve knows it. 

You lift your hands to your head, rolling your eyes as Steve smiles to you. “I look stupid.” You joke with him, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“Now you know how it feels to be us.” He motions as Robin leans through the window doors, nodding along. 

“It’s true, Y/n.” She adds. “You’re one of us now.” She smiles and you take the hat off, placing it back on the counter.

“As fun as it’d be,” You trail off, licking your ice cream to stop the sweet substance clinging to your fingers. “I have to get back to work.” 

Leaning over the counter, you kiss Steve softly before pulling away, unaware of his eyes following your ass as you leave.

“Can I get a tally on the ‘you rule’ side for that?” Steve jokes and watches as Robin adds another tally to the ‘you suck’ side instead. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He mutters before carrying on his with his job. 

*

His foot refused to sit still as the cool metal rested between his lips. 

Since he took the job, Billy knew he’d receive plenty of attention and he liked it. He had his pick of the litter, choosing a different girl most days to take into the showers after he closed up for the night. 

Billy liked to keep himself distracted, feeling someone else’s hands over his body. How some liked to bite whilst others were timid. But none of them were you. 

Sitting beneath the shower, Billy listens to a soft giggle echo as Heather walks away. “See you tomorrow, Billy.” She waves half-heartedly, pulling on her shorts and fixing her bra whilst Billy hides away. 

Leaning his head back, he lets the droplets of water consume him. He blurs everything else out as he lifts his fingertips to the locket around his neck. If he can, he’ll always wear it. A snippet of you, all he has left to hold close until it has rusted beyond recognition. But he didn’t care who noticed, but no one was allowed to open it. 

Slowly, Billy forces himself to his feet. “Shit.” He mutters, feeling the water temperature dropping down his spine as he turns it off. 

Silence follows him as he dries off and changes, still avoiding the house as often as he can. 

That was something you always understood. You were there for him when a new wound happened. He didn’t have to explain anything to you. Instead, Billy sat as you helped patch him up, slowly putting him back together.

He swears that he caught you looking in senior year sometimes. A quick glance to see if he’d been taking care of the latest cut lip or bruised cheekbone. And in truth, you were- not that you’d ever admit such a thing. 

Taking the short ride home, Billy steps into the house silently. He has learnt Neils routine, the days to be out and stay out to the few days he can have in solitude. 

As Billy lies down on his bed, the door creaks open. “What do you-” Before he can finish, Max quietly enters and closes the door behind her. Billy sits upright, seeing her sad eyes. “What’s wrong?” Billy questions softly, something he’s been learning to do with Max now that she’s getting older. 

He’ll never forget the time you snapped at him for being mean to Max. You told him that they’re family, and to support one another. It took time, and a lot of convincing, but he’s making the effort to now, even if you aren’t around to notice.

“I, I broke up with Lucas today.” Max sniffs to herself, still nervous to be vulnerable around her stepbrother.

Yet, Billy rises to his feet and wraps his arms around Max. She quietly cries for a moment before composing herself. “That Sinclair kid ain’t shit, Max.” Billy comments under his breath, listening as Max chuckles quietly to herself. 

“He’s not so bad,” She shrugs her shoulder. “I, I spoke to Y/n about it.” Max nervously states, feeling Billy tense as he slowly releases her from a hug. 

“Oh?” Billy questions, taking a seat back on his bed whilst Max remains still, staring down at the grubby carpet. 

“She, she saw it happen. Outside of The Gap.” Max sighs, regretting having done it in such a public space. “We erm, we had a chat.” 

Billy nods along, not wanting to know truly how you are. He doesn’t want to listen to how well you’re doing, that you’ve never been better because he can see it. He doesn’t need it to be thrown into his face as well. 

“You can still talk to her, Max.” Billy states bluntly. “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I’m annoyed.” He clarifies, looking up as Max nods repeatedly as words fail to follow her actions. 

“I, I know, Billy.” Max responds softly. “It’s just, I don’t want to upset you by still being friends with her.” 

It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. 

“It’s okay, kid.” Billy lies, but Max plays along for his own sake. “Anyway, I gotta get some sleep. Opening shift in the morning.” He says with a half-smile as Max makes her way toward the door. “Oh, Max?” 

Max turns back, her hand resting on the door as the blotchiness of her face has died down. “Yeah?”

“If that Sinclair kid gives you shit, you tell me.” He says, pointing a finger causing Max to laugh to herself. 

As she closes the door and walks to her room, she can’t help but think aloud. “Exactly what Y/n said.” 

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS. ❜ ( 2 )

Summary:  Kuro asks the important questions before he and Cthugha decide on a starting point for their investigation. Warnings:  N/A. Notes:  N/A

    'I need to think about it.'

    Kuro slouched in his armchair, the events of the morning playing on loop in his head.  After Cthugha's untimely arrival, the Sheriff had taken it upon himself to take the rest of the afternoon off in an attempt to compartmentalise his thoughts.  He seldom ever took breaks, but when he'd emerged from his office as white as a sheet, his colleagues had ultimately pulled the plug on his hopes of remaining at work, advising insistently that he should go home.

    'Fine.  But you just remember, every minute you sit around ruminating about your stupid little life, that's another minute that this girl is missing, and that means it's another minute closer to doomsday too.'

    Could it be true?  Doomsday?  The end of the world?  It sounded to him like the paranoid ravings of a conspiracy nut...  yet he'd spoken with such calm authority, countered every one of the problems he'd had with a rebuttal of his own.  Every one of his questions had an answer;  everything he'd said about Raku  ( at least as far as his limited understanding of Gods was concerned ) was true.

    Mia Vanton's case sat on his lap.  It was a thin file, one that spared details for there hadn't been many to uncover, but in that moment it felt heavy.  Cumbersome.  As if he'd been shackled to the floorboards.

    This thing's been shut since 2001.

    One calloused thumb traced over its front, teasing the corner away from the papers inside.  He really didn't know whether he wanted to look at it or not.  It felt oddly like picking at a scab wound, baring himself to old pain that needn't be revisited.  Did he have it in him to feel as hopeless as he did twenty years ago?

    He grunted as a headache set in. It had steadily been growing for the past two hours, fostered in his brain like a bad habit.

    Is there any point in opening this up again?  Surely if she was to be found, she'd have been found by now.  This year marks the twentieth anniversary of her disappearance.  In two weeks, in fact.

    Was that relevant?  He couldn't help but consider it.  As much as he wanted to push Cthugha's prophecy aside as garbage, the fact was that he was impressed  -  and a little worried.  He knew things that nobody could have known, and deep down he knew that his colleagues wouldn't sell some random kid information.  Huron's task force was known for being small, humble and honest, and it's good service had been a near constant hallmark for the district's deep sense of peace.  There had never been a recorded incidence of internal corruption--  not even with other, less composed Sheriffs in the front seat.

    How else could he have known about Olivia?  About Raku, even.

    The Sheriff let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, knowing already what he had to do.

    “I’ve decided t’help y’.”

    “Thank.  God.”   The statement trembled with sarcastic frustration, Cthugha’s cobalt eyes all but grey on account of the storm that had entered them.  He sat in Kuro’s chair, his feet propped up on his desk.  The rubix cube--  the one that had previously been half-completed--  sat in his hands, its coloured faces now perfectly arranged.   “While you were busy jerking off to the end of all life in this realm, I was busy compiling resources that might help us stop it.”   He paused to reach inside of his jacket, retrieving a file of his own, before he dropped it unceremoniously on the desk.   “You’re welcome.”

    “Where were y’keepin’ that…?”

    “Just look at it.”

    Kuro hesitated briefly before dragging the file closer, opening it up to find himself staring at a myriad of newspaper clippings, interview transcripts and photographs.  It was makeshift work, by no means tidy, but the sheer wealth of information was staggering to him.  Even so, as he skimmed over them briefly, he realised that there was nothing there that he didn’t already know.

    Of course there isn’t.  Why would there be?

    I don’t know.  Maybe I assumed he was an agent of God or something.

    “Aside from all that,”   Cthugha started, rising from his commandeered seat.  In what felt like a flash, he’d moved from the desk to the far corner of the room, grabbing a hold of a whiteboard on wheels before reappearing where he had been.  Kuro blinked hard.   “We can rule out all the places you already searched in your previous hunt for her.”   Feverishly, the rifter began to fill the board with haphazard notes.   “That means you don’t have to trawl through Whit’s a second time, nor do you need to bother checking their home or questioning her papa.  He came up clean, remember?”

    “Yeah…  he was so dedicated t’findin’ his daughter that he all but singlehandedly led the search party campaign despite us tellin’ him that it was dangerous.  Had t’bust him outta a few compromisin’ positions fer his efforts...”

    “Exactly.  Also means that the tunnels are a bust too, so you don’t have to waste time trawling through the underground like a family of sewer rats.  Wherever she is, she’s somewhere ya didn’t think to comb through.”   He paused when he found his whiteboard pen beginning to run dry.   “Damn it--”   Much like before, he flickered away, a brief rummaging sound filling the quiet office before he reappeared before the board.   “Okay, so--  here’re all the places you don’t gotta worry about that I can think of off the top of my head.  There’s…  what?  Why’re ya staring at me like that?”

    “How’re y’doin’ that?”

    “You can write too, Kuro.”

    “I mean the…  disappearin’-’n’-reappearin’ thing.  Obviously.”

    “Oh, that.  Yeah, I guess that makes more sense…”   It was the closest to sheepish that he’d seen Cthugha thus far;  a break from his smug attitude was certainly refreshing.   “It’s just a teleportation shtick.  Think of it like…  instead of macro-leaps, I’m performing micro-hops in time.”

     "Huh,"   said Kuro, deciding not to question it.

     In truth, the more they talked about the Vanton case, the more he began to recall.  Kuro seldom ever forgot a victim - even though he'd been the Sheriff of Huron for over three centuries, and a police officer for even longer than that - but he wouldn't say that the details were as long-lasting.  There were simply too many nuances in too many cases--  too much information for him to store everything tightly away.  His brief read over the case file before he'd come back to the office that following morning hadn't helped much either, if only because there hadn't been much for him to garner in the first place.

    "I do have a question though,"   Kuro spoke up as he handed Cthugha a cup of coffee.  He wasn't sure whether he was trying to placate or subdue him.   "... or a couple."

    "Are they constructive?"

    "Maybe.  I mean--  y'mentioned parallel timelines 'n' shit.  Couldn't y'just…  hop into one where I found her 'n' tell me where she is?"

    "Parallel timelines are born out of choices, dummy.  Unless you're admitting that you purposefully didn't find her, that isn't gonna help at all."   A swig of his drink was taken, the rich flavour seeming to soothe his annoyance somewhat.   "Nah.  You're thinking of alternate timelines."

    "Then what about that?"

    "We're not really supposed to dip into those if we can help it.  Definitely a last resort sort of deal.  It creates the possibility for people to run into themselves;  fractures the separation between realities.  Doppelganger action is a one-way ticket to hell for the Universe.  Also the fact that, like parallel timelines, there are MULTITUDES of alternate timelines where everything's the same except one little thing, meaning it'd take a shit-ton of time to comb through 'em all--  most likely more time than we’ve got.  There're several versions of you out there, Kuro, but you're this one.  You should focus on that."

     "This's all real confusin’…"   the Sheriff mumbled, deflating a little.  He was so sure he'd had a good idea under his belt, but hell, what did he really know about the way that reality worked?

    "Mm.  Anything else?"   Cthugha asked tersely, eager to move on.

    "Just one more thing,"   Kuro affirmed, shifting in his place for a moment before deciding that brevity was more favourable than kindness.   "... how does this girl stayin' missin' end the world?  People go missin' all the time.  Some come home, some're found dead.  Some’re never found, yet the world keeps on spinnin’.  's just a cruel fact’a life."

    For the first time since their meeting, Cthugha fell silent.  A harrowing emptiness entered his eyes as he thought about the bleak future that awaited them if they did nothing.  A hazy field of fire, the once clean air ashen and thick.  The destruction spread like cancer, first exploding in Huron before it gradually spread outward.  What was perhaps even more frightening was that the one responsible for it seemed impervious to the herculean effort required to topple a district;  by the time he was done with Huron, he was already looking for a bigger, more developed fish to fry.

    It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the Universe in ruins by far, and he doubted it’d be the last.

    That didn’t mean he was accustomed to seeing it though.

    “Well,”   he said softly, whiteboard pen twirled absentmindedly in between his fingers.   “... let’s just say, grief does things to people.  Do you have any clue who Mia’s father is?”

    Slowly, Kuro squinted.    “Aside from knowin’ his name ‘n’ his daughter’s case?  No.  Should I?”

    “No.  That’s exactly why ya should be worried:  he’s got nothing left to lose.  Do you think he’s going to care about hurting anyone when he’s hurting this much himself?  He’s got no children to provide for;  no public image to protect.  When he loses his mind, he does it for real, and damned’re the consequences, get it?”

    “Got it…”   Kuro muttered.  He knew all too well about people like Mr.Vanton.  While an anonymous existence was ultimately a peaceful one, when crime was brought into the mix, it became a dangerous shield.  Who suspected the nobody?  Nobody, that’s who.   “Then we gotta get movin’.”

    “I have to ask,”   Cthugha started as he stepped towards the chair he’d been sprawled in, reaching for his jacket and shrugging it on.  Now that he had a little time to look over him properly, Kuro noted its strange cyan decals and the symbol that he’d never seen before adorning the right side;  two parallel lines with a small triangle beneath the centre point of the bottom one.  It looked vaguely like a seesaw with two slats on top instead of one.  "What made you change your mind?"

    “Well, I guess I never got over the fact that I couldn’t solve it.  D’y’have any idea how hard it is t’look a parent in the eye ‘n’ tell ‘em that the search fer their child is over?  There was nothin’ else I could do, but I still felt guilty.  I figure, even if yer full’a shit ‘n’ this really is some heartless stunt all fer yer own amusement, I can at least make sure that there really was nothin’ else I could’a done fer the Vantons.”

    The rifter hummed softly as he adjusted his tie.   “Heh.  Ya really are a good person.”

    “Y’had doubt?”

    “Who doesn’t?  Much easier to expose a bad person who’s pretending to be good than to find an actual good person these days.  I guess it’s just an unfortunate byproduct of evolution.”

    “Yer wrong,”   Kuro said firmly, pulling his black coat closed.  The gun at his hip was touched briefly before he pocketed his hand, satisfied that he had everything he needed.   “There’re a lot more good people in the world than bad.  ’s just that the bad leave behind their messes t’clean up.”

    “Well, whatever the truth is, it’s clear we’re dealing with a bad person here, huh?  So, got any bright ideas?”

    Already were the gears in his head turning.  With the compiled notes to aid him, he knew of the place that he wanted to start with.  It may have been a dead end--  wishful thinking more than anything--  but he wouldn’t be able to progress until he knew he’d upturned every stone on this property.   “We should head t’the Valerie Vineyard first.”

[isthisthingeven0n]

my number neighbour : part two

brief summary: after a few months of talking back and forth, it’s finally time to meet one another in person. and what a better time to meet than on new years eve in new york city?

word count:  2.4k requested: yesss by so many people! i’m so glad to continue this story :) warnings: literally none. i just love this so much

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

P A R T  O N E 

when this goes live i’ll be out at a party with friends so I hope you all have a wonderful new years celebrations whatever you may be doing! and thank you for such a memorable year. none of this would’ve been possible without you guys supporting and here’s to 2020 - maybe Ilya will finally notice me lmao. Love you all, stay safe. x 

“Okay, so who is down for Miami?” David asks as he draws a line down the whiteboard, making a note of potential locations for everyone to go for New Year's Eve. 

Looking around, David makes a note of those holding their hands up. “And those for LA?” Jason speaks up, and David copies down those names again with a small sigh. 

“What about Hawaii?” Corinna suggests and a few voices cheer in agreement. “Or Vegas? New York?” Her voice pauses as she raises an eyebrow to David who clears his throat, making a small note at the bottom of the board for these new potential locations. 

“Yeah, those sound good.” David mutters to himself, unable to shift his eyes from New York and it does not go unnoticed by the others.

“I think New York sounds like a good option.” Jeff states, smirking as he glances to Jason who gives him a knowing nod. “I heard there’s someone there too that would like to meet you in person.” He adds, and David smiles to himself as he continues to face the whiteboard. 

Eventually, David turns around with a smaller smile. “Yeah, she, Y/n is wondering what my plans are.” David shrugs his shoulder, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal when internally, his systems starting shutting down when you asked. 

“How long ago did she ask you this?” Jason questions, sitting upright as David focuses on his feet.

“About three hours ago.” David mumbles, unaware of the shared looks of excitement and adoration for his newfound interest in his number neighbour. 

“Well,” Jason rises to his feet, standing beside David in front of the whiteboard. “we can’t disappoint Y/n, so those interested in going to New York?” Jason speaks up, and David lifts his eyes to see the majority of hands raised. 

Jason pats David on the shoulder, trying to distract David from overthinking the fact he’ll be able to meet you at last. “New York it is.” David says with a smile as he turns around, rubbing off all the other potential locations and circles New York. 

*

Rushing around your apartment, you kept swearing under your breath. 

“What’s got you all flustered?” Nick questions as he leans against your doorframe, seeing your room having been turned upside down. 

You remove your head from the dark depths of your wardrobe as you let out a long sigh. “I’m looking for this one dress. It’s that ivy lacy one, you know?” 

Nick chuckles to himself, nodding. “Your slutty but not slutty dress?” He rephrases, watching as you rest your hands on your hips. “But super flattering and makes your ass look great dress?” He forces a smile, seeing you roll your eyes. 

“That’d be the one.” You respond before returning to your wardrobe. “I just can’t find it!” You groan and Nick appears by your side. 

“Probably because you lent it to your best friend.” He trails off as realisation hits you. 

“FUCK!” You yell, collapsing down into the wardrobe in defeat. “Of course she had to go and move to Liverpool.” You shake your head, burying your fingers into your hair. 

“Why’d you want the dress so bad anyway?” Nick helps you sit upright, removing you from the dangerous void your wardrobe is. You glance up at him, and watch as it clicks into place in his brain. “No,” He raises an eyebrow and your prolonged silence answers for him. “he, he’s coming to New York?!” He yells and you laugh happily.

“I think so?” You say with a hint of confusion in your tone. “Well, I invited him and his friends,”

“You invited the vlog squad?!” He yells once again, gripping your shoulders tightly. “If you don’t get me a chance with Corinna or Zane I’ll move out.” 

You roll your eyes. “You have such a varied taste, Nick.” You joke, ignoring his rambles of how perfect he’d be for any of his friends. “But, he didn’t respond about it yet.” You add, and Nick’s shoulders drop in disappointment. 

“He’s missing out if he doesn’t come. New Year’s at ours beats any shitty attempt LA has to offer.” He speaks proudly, ignoring the look you give him.

“Nick, you passed out two minutes after midnight and barely remember any of the party.” You remind him, chuckling as he glares over jokingly. 

“Well, I’d remember more if David came so I could finally meet the guy who has you digging up a dress you’ve not worn in two years.” He states and you can’t argue back, knowing it’s true. 

You didn’t intend for this to happen, but when you first FaceTimed him, he seemed like a genuinely sweet person. He was kinda shy which you liked, but as your conversation went on the more grounded you both felt talking to one another. 

Since the first FaceTime you two had, it became almost daily. Eventually, he told you more about his line of work and it clicked where you knew his voice from. You introduced David to Nick, and Nick screamed down the phone which made you laugh hysterically. Since then, Nick has been a cocktail of love, support and amazement that your number neighbour is David Dobrik. 

The sound of your phone pinging made your ears perk up as you resurfaced from old jumpers and darted for your phone. 

You manage to narrowly beat Nick, and you squeal as you read David’s message. 

“Well?” Nick asks eagerly as you type a response before turning back to face your flatmate. 

“We’ve got just over a week to find me a new dress.” You say with a smile as you laugh, feeling Nick lift you off the ground as he hugs you tightly. 

*

Fidgeting, you’re barely able to stand still as guests start arriving. You agreed to take a few shots with Nick to help your nerves, but your body seems immune to anything besides growing anxieties. 

“Hey, he’ll be here soon.” Nick smiles softly to you and you nod in response, knowing if David would cancel, he’d have the decency to message you first.

A loud knock starts on the front door, and you remain blissfully ignorant as you stand with your back turned, talking to some old friends. 

“I gotta admit, I blacked out last year.” One friend tells you, causing you to laugh remembering the whole ordeal. 

Sipping your drink, you shake your head. “You and Nick were clearly shot buddies last year then.” You say, watching as she retells the events she can remember, hoping to not repeat them tonight.

As your friend reminisces on 2018 New Years Eve, Nick opens the front door to see David stood with a bright smile and camera in hand. 

“Holy fuck.” Nick mutters as David chuckles. 

“Hey, Nick.” David speaks up and Nick stutters over his own breath. “I brought some friends with me. This is Zane, Carly, Corinna, Matt and Jeff.” 

Everyone waves politely as Nick barely manages to raise his hand to wave back. “It’s good to meet you guys.” Nick manages to force his words out, oblivious to David’s eyes darting around the room in search of you.

“Can we come in?” Corinna speaks up, smiling to Nick who chuckles under his breath before moving aside. 

Across the room, your friend's attention is immediately diverted. “Hold on,” She holds your arm, staring straight past you. “you never mentioned him bringing hot friends.” She says with a humourous scoff as you remain cemented on the spot, too afraid to turn around. 

“She’s just over there,” Nick moves to stand by David, able to fully compose himself. “you can’t miss her, she’s a stunner in that red dress.” Nick comments with a slight wink as David smiles. 

“Thanks, Nick.” David says before Nick walks off in search of Corinna to try and swoon. 

Taking a deep breath, David pushes back all the nerves that have built up over the past week. Now is his chance, he flew to come see you, just you. After all this time this is the moment he’s been waiting for since you replied to that first dumb message. Yet, it feels fake, but for once it isn’t a prank. 

Walking toward you, David watches as you begin to turn around.

Mentally, you were psyching yourself up for the moment, not sure what to expect. 

Neither of you was aware of the eyes pausing, having heard the stories about you two - the number neighbours whose friendship has the potential to blossom. You were the Twitter thread’s idea of fate working its magic. 

Facing him, you opened your mouth to speak, but David mirrored your exact actions. “I, erm, hi.” You manage to force the words out, glancing out of the corner of your eye to see Nick facepalm.

David chuckles softly, realising you’re even cuter in person. “Hi, Y/n.” He says softly before bringing you into a hug. 

Being in his arms, you began to relax your body from the tension you were holding in. It was comfortable, it felt right being close to him after almost two months of speaking through a screen. 

“Oh my god if they don’t end up together I’m going to scream.” Carly comments as the others nod in agreement as you two walk-off elsewhere in the apartment, engaged in conversation.

Whilst talking to one another, hours passed by like minutes. You felt like you had known him your entire life, and the feeling was evidently mutual. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” You repeat for the tenth time, and despite your nerves having died down, there is still a small part of your system that is in a permanent state of shock.

His hand slipping down toward yours, David smiles to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m glad you invited me. Otherwise, I’d most likely be in some bar in Vegas.” He comments, hearing you scoff lightly.

“How painful that would’ve been for you, Dave.” You joke, hearing him laugh in response. 

“So painful. Having to accept free drinks and see Zane drunk,” David sighs heavily. “it’s a hard life.” He comments with a shrug of his shoulder before returning his attention back to you. “But I’m really glad to be here, really.” He squeezes your hand lightly, watching as a smile ghosts your lips playfully.

“I’m glad you came. I mean, I knew we’d meet eventually but, but I’m glad you came for New Years.” You lean against the kitchen counter, looking out from your windows at the hectic citizens thriving below. 

David focuses on the features he couldn’t see crisply on video or through photos. He couldn’t see the small dimples or freckles dotted across your face. The iPhone camera never did you the full justice, you’re more beautiful in person than he could’ve anticipated. 

“Well, if it means one less single for 2020, I’m all for it.” He comments but as he listens to the words leaving his lips, your hand drops from his. “Wait, I, I meant,” He rambles, but you shake your head.

“I didn’t wanna assume,” You start, both of you stuttering and struggling to find the right words.

“Oh god,” Corinna cringes, looking up to Nick who winces at the sight. “they’re hopeless.” 

Nick rests his hand on Corinna’s shoulder for a second, a lightbulb moment occurring. “I’ve got an idea.” He says with a smile. “With Y/n, actions speak louder than words.” He states, glancing to his phone to see the time. “The countdown will start any minute.” 

Moving through everyone at the party, Nick walks toward the pair of you. “Oh, hey Nick.” You welcome the interruption, breaking the awkward silence between you and David. 

“Hey Y/n, David.” He says with a smile. “Okay, everybody!” Nick claps, offering his hand to you to join him on the kitchen counter. 

As you stand beside him, David moves back into the crowd, finding Jeff who looks at him with excitement, only to see it quickly fade. “What happened, dude?” Jeff questions, seeing David looking like a lost puppy.

“I think I fucked it up.” David states, sighing heavily. 

“I’m sure you didn’t, David.” Jeff says, patting his back lightly. “I mean, look at her, she can barely take her eyes off of you.” Jeff mutters, motioning up to you as you desperately try to not stare at him. 

“So, it’s nearly midnight so everyone pair up!” Nick cheers and everyone rummages through the crowd whilst David nears you, helping you down. 

His hands rest on your waist. “I, have you got a kiss at midnight?” David questions, slowly feeling his sense of confidence return around you as you smile to him. 

“Is this your way of asking me, Dobrik?” You ask in return. 

“If you say yes, that is.” He retorts playfully, watching as you nod. 

“I’d love to.” You tell him before moving into the crowd as the countdown begins. 

One minute left of 2019, of the decade. 

“Do you feel like it’s been worth it?” David turns to face you, wanting to drown out everyone else and focus just on you. “Do, do you regret answering my dumb message when I sent it?” 

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “Of course not.” You say as if it were obvious. “You, you coming into my life happened at an almost perfect time. I, I secretly look forward to our calls, knowing you will find a way to make me laugh at something stupid.” You ramble, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“After tonight, would you like to go on a date with me?” He questions, but the one thing he’s been wanting to ask you all night is drowned out by the countdown.

“THREE, TWO ONE.” 

As everyone reaches one, you rest your hands on David’s cheeks, pulling him closer into you. 

The sound of cheers and confetti surrounds you as David deepens the kiss, his arms resting on your wait pulling you closer. 

“Happy new year love birds.” Nick yells to you both as you pull away, smiling like idiots. 

“Hey, Dave?” You ask, looking up at him. “I’d love to go on a date.” You reply, before kissing him softly. “Happy new year.” 

The rest of his friends walk over, joining in the celebrations as the party continues. 

But all David can think about is how grateful he is to some dumb trend on Twitter, that he’s able to start a new year with you. 

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

chapter 2!  she’s here, she’s long, she’s very delayed, but she’s here.  you can also read this fic on ao3 under the username joylight if you want!  i’d almost suggest it as the formatting is probably a lot better lmao.

here’s the link to chapter 1

without further ado!

When Julie wakes up the next morning, she feels slightly as though she’s broken out from the surface of a very warm but turbulent lake.  After her impromptu performance yesterday where oh my God she sang again, she had been dragged from the bar by her friends.  Guitar Player had chased after her for a moment, before supposedly clocking the look on Flynn’s face and backing off.  Her best friend had been quiet the whole drive back, and Allison, besides complimenting Julie calmly on her performance, had also remained silent.  Allison’s silence was normal; Flynn’s was not.  It was only when Allison rolled to a stop at Julie’s house, Flynn was supposed to sleep over, that Flynn broke the quiet.

“Actually, Allison, could you take me home?” Julie’s head whipped around so fast that she would have fallen if she was standing.

“You’re going home?”

“Yeah, I am.” Flynn’s tone was set and Allison simply pressed her lips together and pointedly looked out the window.  Julie shook her head.

“Why?”

“Well you clearly didn’t need me to sing again, so I’m assuming you don’t need me to sleepover either.” Julie’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Flynn, it’s not like that.  They needed me-”

“Oh so when three random hot guys you’ve never met need you, you find your voice, but when your best friend begs you for six months to sing again, you can’t do it?  I see how it is, Jules.” Julie couldn’t find any words to counter that, seeing as she hadn’t processed that she had sung again, so Flynn glared pointedly at the door.

“Could you please get out so Allison can take me home?”  Allison had shot Julie a sympathetic look but offered no advice, and Julie had managed to stumble from the car with her head still spinning in shock.  She had managed to get up to bed without her dad or Carlos giving her any issues, but before she could really process what had happened, the adrenaline drained from her body and she had fallen asleep.

Now, laying in bed, she allowed herself a moment to put together the pieces.

She had sang again for the first time in six months.

She had sang again for the first time in six months with three random strangers.

She had sang again for the first time in six months with three random strangers in front of an entire barful of people.

Flynn was incredibly mad that she had done the above things.

And she had a shift at the coffee shop in forty minutes and it took thirty to drive there.

As she pulled on her work uniform and tugged a comb through a few pieces of her hair, Julie tried to feel something other than shock.  Nothing came to mind.  Maybe if she had just sang again, she would have been able to process it.  But Flynn was mad at her too.  That alone scrambled her brains.

Her dad simply waved as he saw her tear from the house and into her car.  The radio blared for a moment and Julie hesitated.  All the times before when music had started playing, she’d been quick to turn it off.  Now, she hovered her finger over the off button on the radio for a second before letting it play.  Another baby step, even smaller than the one she’d accidentally taken last night, but important nevertheless.

She stumbled into work two minutes before she was supposed to clock in.  Allison was already there, expertly pulling shots of espresso and looking ultimately way too put together.  She offered Julie a calm smile.

“Hi, Jules.”

“Clock in.  Gotta.  Almost… late,” Julie’s heaving breaths.  Her normal parking space was filled and she ended up parking a good ten minute sprint away.  And Julie is not a sprinter.  She manages to swipe her card on time, locates her apron, and joins Allison at the espresso machine with her heart still pounding against her ribs.  Allison’s hands move quickly enough as she assembles a line of mobile ordered lattes, and Julie takes the second of reprieve from the lack of customers in the shop to catch her breath.

Allison tucks the drinks into a carrier, and finally turns to Julie with the same calculating look she had given last night right after Julie had said the guys needed her.

“So.”

“Soooo…” Julie runs her fingers over the touchscreen of the till.  Allison raises an eyebrow.

“You sang.”

“I did.”

“With total strangers.” “Yep.”

“I’m really quite fucking proud of you,” Julie’s eyes widen as Allison finally breaks eye contact and begins filling the whipped cream canister.  

“You’re proud of me?” Julie’s voice squeaks and Allison sends her a smirk.

“Obviously.  You finally let that killer voice out of its cage for the first time in months and you had fun.  And you’re okay.  That’s all that matters to me.”

“How did I do that though?” Julie asks, though she doubts Allison will have an answer.  She doesn’t even know.  What she does know is that when she hit the high note at the end of the song, it felt like her lungs had finally opened up again after a long time crushed under her grief and it had felt better than good.  It had felt amazing.  Allison sets the whipped cream down and shrugs.

“I’m not sure, Jules.  Maybe you were just ready.  Didn’t you say those guys needed help?”

“Yeah, I guess their rhythm guitarist bailed on them last minute,” Julie chews her lip, remembering the dejected looks on the faces of her impromptu band.  She hadn’t even gotten to ask them if she had butchered the song or not.

“Then it sounds to me like your mama bear instincts kicked in a bit.  That, and I’m pretty sure you were into the guitar player.” Julie’s head shoots up.

“What!  I don’t even know his name!  I was helping for purely unselfish reasons.”  Allison raises an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me that you didn’t even notice his biceps?  Or that smile?”  Julie would normally begrudgingly admit that yes, Guitar Player was ridiculously cute.  But her mind had wandered yet again to her best friend, and she felt the familiar tug of sadness at her chest.

“Flynn hasn’t texted me back.”  Allison’s teasing expression falls solemn and Julie almost wished that everything had been a giant dream. She missed her, and it had barely been 24 hours.  The last time they’d had a fight, Flynn had tried to egg her room.  Julie didn’t even want to know what would happen this time.

Allison hasn’t given any advice, which means Flynn ranted to her the whole drive home and she’s either being very respectful or is sparing Julie the specifics.  Either way, it makes her slump against the register and attempt to forget her issues as milk froths and keyboards clack around her.

Her shift passes in a blur, the post-lunch rush nearly overwhelming the small shop.  Allison leaves an hour before Julie, and as she does, she lays a gentle hand on her shoulder.

���Just go see her.  I’m sure she won’t be as mad if you explain your thought process.” Julie desperately wants to scream that she didn’t have one, but Allison is already gone and there’s a stressed college student in front of her looking for six shots of espresso.  As she pulls the shots, she mulls over the previous night in her mind.

She knows inherently that the reason she was able to perform was because someone needed her.  Someone needed help.  That was different than people wanting her to sing so she could get back to normal.  She also knows she sang because it was a song which had nothing to do with her mother, whereas the songs she sang for class or the songs Flynn tried to get her to belt out at karaoke had all been songs her mother knew and loved.  It was a complicated mix of reasons, but Julie needed to sort them out before she went to Flynn.  Otherwise, the eggs were gonna come out again.

By the time she closed up the shop with hands still faintly smelling like espresso and sweet cream, Julie had basically given in to the fact that she was never going to figure out how to apologize to Flynn and that there was going to be an omelette frying on her windowsill for the next few days.  Then, as she was tucking the keys into her purse, she heard the tell-tale rumble of her best friend clearing her throat.  Julie’s head shot up and it was indeed Flynn, arms crossed, and bejewelled sneaker tapping a beat into the sidewalk.

“Flynn!”

“You’ve got two minutes to explain.  I’m about to be towed,” Flynn jerks her head towards her car which is, naturally, parked in a drop off zone for Uber drivers.  Julie nods quickly, trying to order all her thoughts from during her shift into orderly lines in her head.  She needs to mention the “someone needing her” thing, and the “song her mother never knew” thing too.  

All that comes tumbling out of her mouth is: “I’m sorry.” Flynn sighs.

“I know that, Jules.  But you still haven’t explained why you did it.  Why you sang with a bunch of random strangers!”

“I told you, they needed me!”

“Yes!  You said that!  But how is that any different from me needing you?”

“Because!” Julie runs her hands down her face in frustration as she tries to compose herself, “You needed me to sing because you needed me to feel better.  You needed me to go back to normal and grieve and whatever.  These guys just needed a fourth singer.  You should have seen them.  The guitar player was almost crying.” Flynn remains silent for a moment and Julie takes the silence as an excuse to guide her to a bench beside the coffee shop.  The silence continues to hang over them for a moment, and Julie is shocked when Flynn finally turns to her and there are tears rimming her eyes.

“Did you feel like I was forcing you to sing?  Did I push you?” Julie’s heart thaws.

“I mean, yes.  A bit.  And I completely understood why.  But I just couldn’t sing unless I was ready, and for a bit it felt like you didn’t understand that.”

“Of course I get that, Jules!  I’m sorry!” Flynn opens her arms for a hug and Julie tumbles into them without hesitation, inhaling the scent of vanilla that still clings to Flynn’s skin from her job at a bakery near the pier.

“I forgive you, don’t worry.  I just hope you can forgive me too.” “Obviously.  I know how you are with the “need to help everyone who needs it” thing.” Julie shoves her but her heart soars when Flynn tumbles into giggles.

“I still don’t really know how I did it,” Julie admits, tracing her toe on the concrete.  Flynn frowns slightly.

“Do you think it was a one time thing?”

“Maybe?” Julie winces a bit at the thought of taking a step back again.  Even though she knows healing isn’t linear, she’d really like to get over this specific part of grief a little faster.  She couldn’t ignore how good it felt to belt out the penultimate lyrics of a random band’s song either.  Flynn wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Whatever it was, I support you 100%.  And those guys were super cute!”

“You’re a lesbian, Flynn.”

“I still know eye candy when I see it.” Julie bursts out laughing.

“Okay, maybe they were cute!  But I’ll probably never see them again.”

She thinks.

The rest of the week goes by a lot easier knowing Flynn is no longer mad at her.  When she comes to work the next day and regales Allison with the tales of how her and Flynn patched things up, Julie pretends not to notice the private smirk that overtakes Allison’s face as she mentions how Flynn showed up at work.  Julie even manages an A+ on an essay the day after, and finally makes a venti half-caf skinny peppermint mocha with no screw ups at work.  She listens to music again normally, and joyfully hugs her dad when he notices.

Life’s pretty normal, until of course it’s not again.

Their coffee shop hosts open mic nights a lot, and when Julie started working she requested to be scheduled away from them.  When her weekly schedule comes out displaying a shift during the three hour long open mic and her heart rate doesn’t immediately rise, she’s pretty excited.  She even manages to shock Allison when her friend offers to switch shifts with her and Julie heartily declines.

“Look at you go,” Allison flicks her towel at Julie, “That open mic really did something to you, huh?”

“Yeah!” Julie smiles as she restocks the caramel sauce, “I actually feel like I can be around music again.”

“I still think it was Grinny McBiceps that did a number on you, not the music.” Julie tosses a bottle of sauce at Allison which she readily catches with a surprisingly loud laugh.

“I’m just saying, Julie-”

“So that’s your name!” Both girls freeze and turn to see none other than Grinny Mc- no! Guitar Player and his band all gathered at the counter with their jaws open.  Allison recovers first and arranges her face back into the cool expression she uses with customers.  Julie can’t exactly manage it, because even though she’s spent the last week denying how cute these boys are, the hint of abs poking through Guitar Player’s cutoff are scrambling her brain.

“So the girl Luke can’t shut up about now has a name,” Drum Player says dryly, shoving Guitar Pl- Luke in the shoulder to break him from the trance he’s apparently entered along with Julie.  Bass Player leans forward excitedly.

“We’ve been looking for you since the open mic!”

“You found me,” Julie’s voice feels dry.  Luke grins at her and she feels her stomach swoop as he does.

“Where did you end up?  We wanted to ask you if you wanted to jam with us again,” Luke says, leaning against the counter.  Julie’s brain whirrs as she processes this, and luckily Allison steps in.

“I had an emergency.  Had to take her out of there.”

“What sort of emergency?” Bass Player asks, leaning forward with a smirk and a wink.  Allison raises an eyebrow.

“Forgot to take my birth control.” Bass Player chokes on air and Drum Player bursts out laughing.  Luke doesn’t seem phased and turns back to Julie.

“So do you wanna?  Jam with us again?  We’re signing up for the open mic here.” Julie tries to shrug noncommittally.

“I dunno.  I’m pretty busy.” Luke deflates, but Drum Player steps in.

“No pressure, obviously.  Just if you end up wanting to play with us again, you can.  You completely elevated our sound.  I’m Alex, by the way.”

“Reggie,” Bass Player adds, though he still seems shaken by Allison’s words.

Julie smiles at them.  Luke seems to recover some of his energy at her smile and pulls out a piece of paper from God-knows-where and a pen and scribbles something on it.

“This is my number.  Seriously, call me at any time if you wanna play again.  We’re totally into it.  Even into having you in the band if you want.”

“Dude, stop being so intense the second you see a cute girl,” Reggie groans.  Both Luke and Julie blush and it’s at this point that Allison fully steps in.

“I appreciate the business transaction that just occurred, but this is a coffee shop and not a corporate mixer.  Can I get you anything to drink?”  The boys chorus their orders and Julie turns to make them as Allison fends off Reggie’s renewed advances with a sigh.  They leave the shop with a loud “goodbye” and Julie slumps against the counter when they leave.  Allison evaluates her with a steady gaze.

“Are you going to play with them again?”

“No clue.” Julie pushes her hands into her face and groans.  Allison pats her back.

“Think about it.  They seemed nice.”

“Even Reggie?” If Julie hadn’t been mistaken, a hint of flush appears on the apples of Allison’s cheeks.

“Even Reggie.  Now get up.  You’ve got another hour left of your shift and Caleb told me I’m too nice to you.”

“Still very weird to me that you call your dad, Caleb.”

“Adoptive father,” Allison corrects and turns away before Julie can prod more as usual.  She takes another second to compose herself and stow Luke’s number deeper in her pocket before turning to the stack of green tea lemonade she has to make and burying her nose in her work.

It’s later, when she’s sitting alone in her room massaging her sore feet and looking at the keyboard in her room, that Julie truly considers Luke’s offer.  It’s not that she doesn’t think playing music with them again will be fun; she does.  But there’s something holding her back, and she’s pretty sure it’s the four sheets of piano music laying on her keyboard.

It’s a huge step.  A massive, giant, life-changing step.  One her mother would want her to take.  Does she want to?  Julie pulls out her phone and texts Flynn, who’s in the middle of sending her opinions on episode six Outer Banks.

from: julie molina is a star

what would you say if i told you i was considering playing music with those ute guys again?  slash maybe joining their band?

from: double trouble

i would say your pacing deeply confuses me.

but i am proud.

and very supportive.

Julie smiles, and sets her phone to the side and stands.  Her keyboard sits in front of her, no longer mocking, but encouraging.  She lifts the sheets of paper and spreads them on the stand.  “Wake Up.”  Her mother’s last gift to her.  The last thing she needs to do before she can play music again, for real.

Julie’s pretty much fucking terrified.

But she still presses the keys.

Here's one thing I want you to know

You got someplace to go

Life's a test, yes, but you go toe-to-toe

You don't give up, no, you grow

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 2 (d.d)

A/N: i’m sorry this is so short ): i think it’s a vibe tho. enjoy. talk to me while you read & let me know what you think. love u. thank u for reading. grateful for y’allllllll

WC: 5.1k

You see David again a week after you give him your first handjob, and it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve begun texting each other – about anything and everything. He texts you on his lunch breaks, when he gets off of work, when he’s going into work, when he’s bored, before he goes to sleep – you name it. You text him when work is slow, in the middle of church, during the weekly family dinner at your parents’, anytime — constantly attempting to see each other. 

 At noon, David texts you while you’re about to go on lunch break, usually an uneventful hour:

 It’s so slow rn. Come see me whenever you go on break. Pls. I’m losing my mind. This old woman won’t stop hitting on me. All she wants are mimosas.

 Of course, you tell him you will. Why sit in the break room and waste your own time when you can go see him? 

 He had mentioned to you in passing where he bartends; a few streets up and over, but not too far – speed walking distance if you wanted to see him for longer than thirty minutes. 

 You make it as quickly as you can, composing yourself before opening the door. As soon as David gains sight of you, the look on his face indicates you saved him from a bartender’s Hell. He fakes an excuse to the woman, the only other person in the bar, to come speak with you. He leans against it when he’s in front of you, eyes on yours.

 “Hi, baby. Do I need to card you?” he asks, watching the familiar blush spread across your cheeks, “It’s so good to see you. What are you drinking?”

 “I’m still working!” you excuse, bitching him out playfully, “Nothing!” 

 “That’s no fun,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s on me. What do you want? Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll pick.” 

 “By the way, that’s what you wear to work?” David questions, looking you up and down approvingly as he pours a shot for you, “Sexy.” 

 “If I take a shot, you have to take a shot, too,” you bargain with him, ignoring his comment as you blush even more, “We’re both working!”

 “The only way I can drink on the job is if you buy it for me,” he explains, looking around the room and the older woman, “buuuut...is anyone looking? And I’m not the lightweight here, remember?” he chuckles, “Miss Two Drinks and I’m Drunk.”

 You flush as he places your glass on the bar, “It’s tequila. Salt on the back of your hand, honey.” 

 “I know how to do a shot of tequila,” you gripe, eyes rolling as you lick the back of your hand, “Just ‘cause I’m a virgin doesn't mean-”

 “Okay,” he shrugs rudely, not caring about your defense, “Just do the shot, baby. Cheers.”

 “Cheers.”

 You clink your glasses and David’s eyes follow your tongue when you dump some salt on top of the wet skin. You lick at it, meeting his eyes and downing it. You reach for the lime and suck on it as he finishes his, taking your glass from you.

 “When can I see you again?” you ask, gazing at him as he leans against the counter, “I’m off at five.” 

 “I’m off at six. You wanna go dealing with me tonight? I need some company, and we can go back to my place afterwards,” he questions, eyes on yours, “You can weigh everybody’s shit for me and split it up.” 

 “Okay,” you agree, slightly excited at the prospect, “Do you want me to come back here when I get off?” 

 “Yes,” David replies, “I’m getting you high afterwards, though. Don’t say no. I’ll give you, like, the whole experience. Are you working tomorrow?”

 You shake your head, blushing, before he responds, “Great. Me either, so you’re spending the night.” 

 You gape at him, “I don’t have my stuff-”

 “I’ll take you by your place beforehand,” David offers, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Stop stressing, baby.”

 You sigh, hating how many hearts are filling your eyes as you gaze at him and hating that you have to leave, “Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you in a few.”

 He tells you to wait, slipping out from behind the bar and leaning his head down, kissing you. “Okay. You can go now. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck with that one over there.” 

 ++

 Five-thirty seems to be around the time the bar is getting busier due to everyone getting off of work, and the stress on David’s face is evident. He hasn't even noticed your arrival yet, attempting to keep polite conversation with his customers. 

 Six rolls around and he’s immediately clocking out, gruffly wishing his coworker good luck and making his way over to you, “Sorry, sweetheart. Fucking busy tonight. Let’s get out of here.” 

 You do, and David’s immediately lighting a cigarette and unbuttoning his black dress shirt as soon as you step outside. He had rolled the sleeves up since you last saw him, and he slips the garment off while his cigarettes and lighter are still in his hands and out of his breast pocket. 

 His black t-shirt remains, tucked into his slacks which are secured with a belt. He’s guiding you to his car silently for a few minutes, tossing out his cigarette before unlocking the vehicle and climbing in. 

 “I gotta shower before I do anything else,” David tells you, starting the car and pulling out of his spot, “It’s been like that in there since three. I’ve been sweating like a bitch; I feel disgusting.” He casually rests his free hand on the inside of your thigh as he drives, leading the small talk – as he always does. 

 David doesn’t mind being the talkative one; he likes bringing up subjects that are taboo to you, watching you refuse to meet his eyes and blush as he presses the topic, becoming more detailed as he speaks. 

 He usually goes until you tell him to stop, reacting with an affectionate rub at the skin of your thighs, “Sorry, baby, you know I like seeing you get all worked up and not know what to do about it.”

 Once at his place, he quickly showers and changes while you patiently wait on him. It takes him ten minutes, tops, before he’s ready to go. 

 “Alright,” David says casually, grabbing his keys and motioning to his bedroom door, “Come here, follow me. My roommates and I all deal at least a little bit — I’m the best one of all of us — so this is where we keep our shit.” He takes you into another bedroom, turning the lights on and pulling out his phone.

 “Okay, baby,” he sighs, “This is the part that sucks. We gotta go through what everyone wants and weigh this shit. I don’t like weighing as we go. It’s time consuming. It’s gonna take some time. Let me explain how this works. Hand me that bag.” 

 You do, grabbing it and passing it to him, “So, I’ve got a pretty big amount of this shit – for Chicago, at least. I buy from a guy who grows in Iowa, so I can get his bud for cheap and sell it for good cash here. Weed’s legal now, so it’s kind of fucking me up, but kids eighteen to twenty-one can’t buy, so they’re who I sell to the most. I don’t sell to minors — obviously.” 

 He continues, “This is a pound, and it’s the best weed I’ve had in a while. Here, in Chicago, this is worth two thousand.” 

 “Dollars?”

 “Yeah,” he laughs slightly, “I buy it for half that, but the most people usually buy at a time from me is an ounce. I go see him like, once a month? It depends on how much people are buying. It’s a long fucking trip and I always have to do it in one day because of work – maybe you can come with me next time I have to go.”

 “Anyway,” he sighs as you try to not think about how much money he must be making under the table, “We gotta do this, baby. Here’s the list of people and how much they want.” 

 Admittedly, he does all of the work, but talks you through the process and answers your questions. He weighs the weed and puts them in plastic bags according to size, writing their name and amount in Sharpie on the front.

 You get to a certain guy named Luke, and David reacts, “Oh, fuck Luke. He doesn't get the good shit and never will – I hate his stupid ass. I have a whole stash of shitty weed for him in the cabinet right there.”

 David weighs Luke’s weed and describes why it’s shitty and how you can tell, bitching about the kid, “He’s a fucking idiot, though. I overcharge him for terrible weed, and I get texts from him saying how good it is. It takes, like, an entire eighth to feel anything. He’s a rich white nineteen-year-old, so I don’t really feel bad about it.”’

 “So, how much will you make tonight?” you ask as he puts it all in one bag, sighing and doing the math in his head.

 “Fuck, I don’t know – six hundred? Six fifty? Maybe seven at the most? We can count it when we’re done,” he shrugs, “Let’s get going; it’s getting late. This is my favorite part.” 

 David goes down the list in his notes and calls them on speaker phone as he drives, script usually sounding the same for every person: “Hey, man. Do you want me to pull up or meet you somewhere? I can do either one.”

 Before he meets his first guy, David reaches over and gently tucks your crucifix into your shirt, slightly rubbing at it over your blouse affectionately, “Druggies are atheist shitheads. They’ll talk about it if they notice it. Keep it there until we’re done. I’m sorry.” 

 It’s too hot seeing him get out of his car, weed in the palm of his hand as he daps his customer up and sneakily slides the cash into his pocket before bidding them a polite farewell, keeping the conversation short. 

He has to make about fifteen stops before he’s completely done for the night; some of them ask about you, wondering your name and age, before David defends you, “Alright, bruh, just pay me. Stop hitting on my girl.” 

 After every time he says it, he feels the need to immediately apologize once you’re alone again: “Sorry again. I know you’re not my girl, but I know you don't want them trying to talk to you. It’s just easier to say you are. They’re not going to fuck with their dealer’s girlfriend – especially since you go to the parties, too.” 

 David’s parked outside of your apartment building as he quickly begins counting how much money he made, murmuring under his breath as his thumbs do all of the movement. He counts it in under ten seconds, passing the stack of cash to you, “Seven thirty-five. I was close – sold a little more. We didn't even sell that much, honestly.” 

 “Count it again,” you tell him, “I want to see that again.” 

 He chuckles, eyes glancing between you and the cash, biting at his lips as he quickly counts it again, “Seven thirty-five, baby.” 

 “Hot.”

 David laughs at you and stuffs the cash into the pocket of his shorts, “Let’s get your shit and go home, honey.” 

 It's his first time visiting your place, and he expects it to be littered with misplaced Bible references and at least semi-unorganized, but it's not: you’re as organized as he is and oddly, there’s no clear evidence of your beliefs – something which surprises the shit out of him for someone who wears a cross around their neck every single day. 

 He keeps his eyes mostly to himself as you rifle through your belongings in your room, glancing at your walls and around your living room.

 “Jesus, sweetheart, how long are you planning on staying?” He motions towards your bag once you come out, watching your eyes widen.

 “I mean...you’re saying could stay longer than tonight?” you suggest, bargaining, “Two nights. I’m off the next two days.”

 “Fine,” he gives in, eyes rolling and giggling at you slightly, “I work the day after next, but you can stay as long as you want to, baby. You’re always welcome.”  David takes a step towards you, kissing you quickly, “Put your clothes back. You’re gonna be wearing mine.”

 “No,” you resist, his hands coming to your waist, “Those are yours.” 

 “Put them back,” he repeats, kissing you, “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

 “Ugh,” you groan, listening to him and doing as you’re told – you love when he tells you what to do, and he knows it. It’s his favorite button to push. 

 You return to him, and his fingers gently tug the chain of your necklace out of your shirt, fixing it so the clasp sits at the nape of your neck. “Better. It feels wrong to see you without it.”

 ++

 David’s two roommates are home, now, and he briefly speaks with them with you standing at his side, his arm shamelessly thrown around your shoulders. 

 “Dave,” one of them calls out, “Come here. Dude. Ester called the house. Call her back.” 

 “What?” he replies, “Why the house? She has my number. Fuck, okay.” 

 You don't know who Ester is, and David sits on the couch, tugging you into his lap in front of them as he pulls his phone out. His roommates don’t seem to be paying you any mind as they watch TV and smoke, and you wonder how many other girls he’s brought home. 

 “Bro, she didn't even call my phone,” he states, rolling his eyes, “I didn't think she did. Me and Y/N were just out delivering for, like, two hours.” 

 “Oh, shit!” the other one exclaims, “You’re Y/N? Sick. Nice to meet you.”

 “Sorry, baby,” David apologizes quickly, dialing Ester and introducing you, “Dima. Ilya. Both are idiots and shitty dealers–”

 “Heeeey, Ester!” David’s tone changes immediately, “What’s up? Why’d you call the house and not me? Is something wrong?”

 You hear a voice on the other line, his arm draped around your waist as he listens, eyes rolling back, “No, Ester, I can't help you with your Precalc homework. I’m sorry, kid. You know that I took idiot classes in high school. You’ve always been smarter than me. Ask Dad! Or, better yet, why don't you just look it up?” 

 David shuffles slightly with you in his lap and lights a cig, letting you rest your head in his neck, “I’m sorry I can’t help you, honey. You know that I miss you. I want to come up next Friday...I’ll be off. Will everyone be home?” 

 It’s now obvious that he’s speaking to his sister as he listens to her chatter, absentmindedly rubbing at your back, his leg bouncing up and down, “Okay. I’ll be there. I promise. Tell Ma that I’m coming. I love you, Es. You know you can call me whenever. You’re my best friend.”

 He hangs up shortly afterwards, taking a drag from his cigarette and sighing, “Christ. Vernon Hills next week, you guys. It’s official. You fuckers are coming with me, so make sure you’re off,” David demands, motioning towards Dima and Ilya. 

 “Whatever,” he continues, standing and putting his cigarette out, pulling you with him, “We’ll be upstairs. Leave us alone – she’s staying the night and I’m off tomorrow.” 

 David daps both of them up, before Ilya speaks, “Sick. Have fun. Goodnight, bro.” 

 David quickly tells you to ignore him and leads you up to his room, shutting the door behind you. The first thing he does is rifle through his drawers, tossing clothes at you. He’s surprised at how quickly you react, requesting that he unzip the back of your dress.

 He does, slowly, pushing your hair away from your neck and patting your waist politely before removing his touch. You pull on his smallest pair of sweats, still having to tighten the draw string around your hips and slipping on one of his t-shirts. 

 You’re not sure why it feels so easy to be intimate with him in ways you never could with anyone else while only knowing of him for a few weeks; maybe it's how nonchalant he is, or how unabashed he is. Nothing is too embarrassing or unbearable for him, and it rubs off on you. 

 David’s polite, and doesn't judge you over things you’re ignorant about; he’s happy to explain and guide you if you want to know about what he does, and he fucks heavily with your eagerness to please him and learn. 

 He doesn't know if this will turn into casual hook ups or something more, he’s going to leave that up to you, but he enjoys your company and bashfulness. It makes his dick hard. 

 David casually makes out with you on his bed, hands to himself and not grabby, before pulling away and asking, “You wanna smoke?” 

 “Sure,” you reply, sitting up with him. He digs through his bedside table, muttering, “I’m gonna teach you how to roll. It takes a little bit of practice, I guess. I don’t know – I’ve been doing it for so long, I don't even pay attention anymore. Hand me that tray.” 

 You lie down on your stomach, facing him as he sits cross legged on his still-made bed. He breaks open a pack of Berry Dutch cigarillos with his teeth, "So, the first step is to split it. Some people can crack a blunt with just their hands. I can't. I need a blade for it." He grabs a razor blade from the tray before sliding the edge of the blade down the middle of the blunt precisely.

 "You want it to be a spliff or a blunt? You pick, I don't care," he asks you, watching your clueless features, clarifying, "A spliff has tobacco still mixed in with the weed, and a blunt is straight weed.”

 “Um,” you shrug, meeting his eyes, “Blunt, I guess.”

 "Okay," he replies, dumping tobacco onto the tray, "Scrape out the tobacco. I’ll clean it up later."

 David grabs his weed and his grinder, "Grind your weed down into shake – it takes, like, a gram or a gram and a half to fill up a blunt." He stuffs the grinder and closes it, twisting it and tapping the top.

 “I don't smoke what I sell,” he explains, “My personal stuff is from one of my buddies in Vernon Hills.”

 “Oh,” you reply confusedly, “Why not?”

 “‘Cause Biggie said not to,” David shrugs, quoting, “‘Rule Number Four: I know you heard this before, ‘Never get high on your own supply.’ You know, like, Scarface?” 

 “...What are the other rules?” You ask, not getting it.

 He chuckles, scoffing slightly, “Later, babe.”

 “Anyway,” he says, getting back to the subject, “Some people put in a filter at the front, but...I don't have time for that. I’m too impatient for it," he explains, "Hold the blunt wrap and dump it, but make it even."

 He spreads out the shake into the blunt while flattening it against the tray, folding the seams over each other, "Roll."

 "You lick," he demands, leaning down and holding up the edge for you to lick, "Along the line. Not too much, though. Just enough."

 You obey and he watches your tongue, making a soft noise at the sight, "Goooood. Now, we stick it."

 David sticks the seams together, folding and pressing them together, "Okay, now you bake it, baby."

 He fumbles for his lighter, a fancy refillable Zippo, flipping it open and running it over the sides to ensure they stay conjoined. He puts it between his lips, lighting it and blowing out the flame at the end.

 David hits it, placing the tray on the floor by his bed, passing it to you, “Done. It’s pretty easy, just remember: split, empty, grind, stuff, roll, lick, stick, and bake.” 

 You get better at hitting it by yourself every time you smoke with him, exhaling easily as you scoot over to him. You pass it back to David as he lies against his headboard, tugging you into his chest and placing his hand on your waist. 

 “David,” you say after a few minutes of passing it back and forth, him grunting out a Hmm? a response, “Um. You asked me last week what I like. I don't know, but what do you like?” 

 “I’m not telling you yet,” he stifles a laugh, moving to put the roach out in an ashtray on his nightstand, “‘Cause I don't want you to like something just ‘cause I do. You wanna find out what you like?” 

 “Yeah,” you nod, blushing, “For you.” 

 “Okay,” he gives in, shrugging, “Can I touch you?” 

 You nod as he sits up and stands from the bed, “Whatever you wanna do. Go ahead.” 

 David tells you to stay where you are, rubbing at his eyes and grabbing his laptop, tossing it on his bed in front of you, “We’re gonna watch porn. Take the sweats off.” 

 “Wait-,” you say nervously, chewing at your lips, “Nevermind. Okay.” You obey him, untying the string and pushing the garment past your hips, already nervous. 

 “Don’t get anxious, baby,” David reassures as he climbs into bed with you again, “I’ve got you – this is just the easiest way to find out. Sit between my legs.” 

 He leans his head over your shoulder and logs into PornHub, wrapping one of his arms around your torso comfortingly as he feels you already blush against him. You’re visibly mortified as he clicks a video in his recommended tab, his free hand coming to palm you over your underwear. 

 You make a slight noise before he hushes you quietly, “Watch. Don’t touch yourself.” 

 David doesn't move his hand as he reads your body language, not watching the video at all as you buck up into his touch. “You like that or you like me touching you?” 

 “You,” you reply, clearing your throat and repeating yourself, “You.”

 “Stop thinking about me being here,” he advises, voice gruff behind you, “Think about me doing the things to you that they’re doing. Think how you would if I wasn't here. Got it?”

 You nod against him, eyes on the screen as he holds you close to him, your back pressed against his torso. Your breath becomes heavy as you watch the man eat the woman out and finger her, wanting it to be you and David. Your pussy must be thinking the same thing you are as you involuntarily twitch and clench against his touch.

 David murmurs in approval, “Good. Just like that, baby.” 

 He switches to another video, a deep throatfuck, and watches your face as the woman gags around her partner – lips parted and breathing heavily. Again, you want it to be you and David, but you tell him this time, cheeks red: “I wanna be able to do that for you.” 

 “We can work up to that,” he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck, “I like that too.” 

 “That’s enough of that for now,” David says, reaching forward and shutting the computer, “We can do it again tomorrow. We’re not done – I want to touch you.” 

 He breathes over your shoulder, muttering and tugging at the waistband of your underwear, “But can you take these off for me?” 

 You do, slipping them down your thighs and legs before he moves from behind you. David props you against the pillows, where he was, and lies on his stomach between your legs, scooting himself closer.

 “Jesus fucking Christ,” he comments as his eyes land on your pussy, gasping softly and glancing back up at you, “Can I touch you?” 

 You say a quiet yeah before his fingers are spreading your pussy apart delicately with one hand, the other arm wrapping around one of your thighs. He places his free hand on top of your stomach affectionately, eyes flitting between you and your pussy. 

 “Oh, God,” David says to himself, fingertips running over your folds and collecting your slick. You’re so wet he can hear every move his fingers take, and David takes it upon himself to press kisses up along the inside of your thigh, meeting your eyes and watching your face as he slips his middle finger inside of you.

 There's so much resistance that, even with your wetness, he can barely get it inside of you. He watches your mouth drop open silently in response, before he speaks, “Holy fuck. I don't know what I was expecting, but you’re so tight.”

 “If it hurts at any point, tell me,” he advises, moving his arm from around you to spread you apart again, still in disbelief at the sight, “Fuck me.”

 You’re embarrassed as he spits on you for more lube, spreading it around and rubbing it in before trying to move his finger again. You gasp as he hits the knuckle and he glances up at you quickly, not saying anything – he knows the difference between a good and a bad gasp.

 “Jesus,” David advises, pulling his finger out slowly and spreading you apart, “I can literally see your…”

 He cuts himself off and trails, not wanting to finish his sentence, moving from between your legs and into his nightstand. You make a noise before he hushes you, “Shh. Give me a sec. I’m not done. This’ll make it easier.” 

 He grabs lube and settles between your thighs once more, putting some on his fingers and beginning to touch you, “It doesn't even look like you touch yourself.” 

 “I don’t,” you admit, embarrassed as he gapes at you slightly.

 “Oh, my God,” he says simply, slipping his middle finger in easier this time, “So you’ve never cum?” 

 You shake your head and he exhales sharply, beginning to move it in and out, “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t be nervous.” 

 “Relax, babygirl. You’re too tense right now – even with the weed,” he comments, still working, “Stop thinking so much.” 

 You sigh and nod, trying to relax yourself, but it doesn't work, and David pulls away entirely, “Now’s not a good time.” 

 “What? Yes-” you attempt to reply before he cuts you off, shaking his head.

 “No. It’s not,” he moves to lie next to you as you slip the sweats back on, kissing your forehead, “It’s okay. It’s not a bad thing, I promise. You’re just super in your head right now. We can try again later.” 

 “Ugh, I just want to be able to-”

 “I know,” he replies, moving to light a cigarette, “I know, honey. We’re both high, though – maybe when we’re sober.” 

 You move to rest your head in his neck as he gazes at the ceiling, “Your pussy is so nice, no cap.” 

 “It is?”

 “Hell yes,” he says confidently, “Ugh. Wow. I’m gonna have dreams about that one tonight.” 

 “David...” you trail nervously, anxious to ask your question, “Can I ask you something? How many girls have you been with?”

 “Honestly, sweetheart,” he replies with ease, still nonchalant about something so personal, “I don't know anymore. I don’t keep track. Maybe thirty? I don't even remember most of their names. If you’re asking because of, like, STDs - you don’t gotta worry about anything. I’m clean.” 

 “That’s not why I was asking,” you clarify, getting the guts to take his cigarette from him and taking a drag, easily now, “I wasn’t worrying about that, but literally, like...how?” 

 He shrugs as you pass the Camel back to him, “You’re a nice girl, baby. I’m not nice. That’s how.”

 Your eyebrows scrunch together as you move to look at him, “You are nice, though.” 

 David scoffs, “Honey, I’m a drug dealer. Just because I’m a good man doesn’t mean I’m nice.”

 “Yeah, but...you’re nice to me? You don’t even have to be. You could be mean and I’d still want to have sex with you and stuff.” You’re still confused as he takes a final drag and puts out his cigarette, tugging you closer.

 “You saying that is exactly why I’m not a nice guy,” he promises, “Because you don’t even have to tell me that. I know you would.” 

 You don’t understand at all and you sigh against him, David continuing, “I know that I’m nice to you, baby, but that’s because I like you. Why are you even picking me to do this with?”

 You roll to settle on top of him, looking up at him, “I don’t really know. I just trust you. Don’t deflect...You like me? I thought you just wanted to fuck me once and leave.”

 “Ew, it’s so weird hearing you curse,” David reacts, nose scrunching up, “Yeah, I like you. No shame in it.”

 He pushes your hair out of your face and licks his lips as he watches you blush at his words, replying, “I like you, too.”

 “Yeah?” he says, “Your parents definitely wouldn’t.”

 You roll your eyes, “My parents can - Ugh. I’m twenty-two. I can date who I want. I don’t want my father knowing what goes on in bed, and honestly? It’s kind of weird that he feels the need to know.” 

 “Jeez,” David’s eyebrows fly up, “I thought you were, like, devout.” 

 “I am,” you shrug, “But just because he took a celibacy vow doesn’t mean I can’t get laid. He’s not even a priest, ‘cause he has kids. The Church won’t let him be. Ever.”

 “So, what is he, then? My parents are Catholic, but they don’t go to church here. They said they liked Slovakia’s better,” David asks, eyes on yours, “‘Cause, you know, they speak Slovak.” 

 “I don’t even know what he is,” you admit, “He won’t tell us. My mom knows. He’s just not a priest. I think he resents me and my brothers for it.” 

 “Bruh,” David says informally, rolling his eyes, “I’m sorry, but, like...fuck your dad.” 

 “No, I agree. It’s okay,” you shake your head, “Fuck my dad.”

 “Ew,” he reacts the same way, “Stop it. It sounds so dirty coming out of your mouth.” 

 You giggle and move up to kiss him slowly, arms wrapped around each other, before David breaks, “After we fuck, lemme meet your parents.” 

 You laugh slightly, surprised, “Okay. Why? You’re gonna have...to not be you.”

 “Because,” he kisses you again, “I just want the satisfaction of knowing I railed the fuck out of their daughter when it’s something they fear so much.”

 “You’re such a bad influence,” you press, rolling your eyes, “You’re gonna ruin me.” 

 “You want it,” he rolls both of you over, now hovering over you, “That’s the goal.”

 “I guess so.”

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART SIX

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 4273 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS A/N: I got thinking today and realised that most of my multi-chapters before have been between seven and eleven parts in length... and this one is going to be way longer. I planned most of the future of the fic out this afternoon while stacking shelves at work and I can easily say there will be parts into the late teens... definitely don’t want to rush this one, and Hux isn’t one that can be rushed! But for now, please enjoy the sixth part – this is the longest one so far and also my favourite to write so far! Read it on Ao3 here.

When Poe informs everyone that you’ll be arriving on Ajan Kloss within a matter of minutes, Armitage takes a deep breath to try and steady himself. He runs a hand through his hair, which is no longer as perfect as he had made it look that morning. With the escape, the crash landing on Kef Bir and the wind on the ocean moon, some of the hair had escaped its confines. He doesn’t quite care as much as he thought he would and happily messes it up a little more in his stress. There’s nobody here to judge him for hair that isn’t perfectly gelled, though he does feel a little like an officer could turn a corner at any second and ridicule him for it.

You’re sat beside him, eyes scanning the pages of a book you’d found on the ship not long after leaving Kef Bir. You’ve been reading it most of the way back, and Armitage has been carefully and quietly sneaking glances at you. The words he’d heard you speaking to Jannah, the woman on Kef Bir, were not missed by him. He’d heard them – several of them. You considered him a friend, and he’d never really had one of those before. He supposes that he considers you as one too.

He watches you as you finally close the book and then stifle a yawn. As you sit the book down on the table and then turn to him, meeting his eyes and catching him the act of him looking at you, his cheeks redden a little and he looks away.

“Are you ready to meet the Resistance?” You ask him, crossing your arms. He’s nervous, and you can tell – not only because he’s been anxiously bopping his knee up and down for the last ten minutes or so.

Armitage finds himself nodding.

“They might take a bit of convincing to trust you, Hux. They’re a good bunch, all of them… but none of them have a particularly good impression of you, what with everything they’ve been through with the First Order these past few years… but give them time. They’ll warm up to you, just as I did.”

He believes you on that, and he tries to focus on your good words, but his mind stalls on one thing in particular – you called him Hux. And he’s suddenly struck with a strange dislike for the name.

“Call me Armitage, if you would.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Don’t you usually prefer Hux?”

“You called me Armitage once before on Steadfast. When we left,” he reminds you. “Hux… it was my fathers surname. He wasn’t a particularly kind man. Hux… the name Hux, it commands a certain kind of feeling, a certain kind of responsibility and title that I don’t think I want to carry with me into the Resistance. I have been General Hux to everybody in the First Order for years now, and that name holds something dark, something I think I want to forget… being just Armitage… it could be the change I’m looking for.”

It feels strange to ask something like that of you, and he worries for a moment if he’s doing wrong by asking you and confiding so much personally in you. But then you nod at him, and he sees a look in your eyes that makes him want to smile and crumble, both at the exact same time.

“Armitage it is, then.”

–

As you enter the cockpit, you can see Ajan Kloss in the distance. It fills you with a sense of peace as you slowly advance towards it, towards the place you call home. It’s been a long few hours, and you’re ready to just retire to your quarters and take a second to breathe and relax in comfort before jumping back into everything.

Poe looks up as he hears you. “We’ll be landing in a minute. Finn and I were talking before, we’re going to go and tell Leia about what we found on Kef Bir, about Rey, and then I’m going to go to the infirmary to get patched up,” he explains. “You should head there straight away.”

You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“It isn’t?”

“No,” you shake your head again. “I’m coming with you all to talk to Leia. I need to introduce Armitage to her, to tell her that he was the spy. To explain why he’s with us. I need to break it to the Resistance. I’m not just going to leave him to fend for himself, no matter how injured I am. And the pain isn’t too bad anymore. The rest on Kef Bir must have done me some good.”

Poe doesn’t seem too impressed, and you understand. He’s protective of those he cares about, and you slot into that category. Ever since you met him and joined the Resistance with him, since you started flying in his squadron. But he understands. You see that in his eyes as he looks back at you, narrows his eyes and then nods.

He turns back to look out at Ajan Kloss as you slowly begin your landing – it’s bound to be a much safer, softer landing than the one on Kef Bir so you don’t bother bracing yourself or finding yourself a seat to settle in. Then, without looking at you, he speaks.

“You called him Armitage.”

“He asked me to.”

The Falcon settles down on the ground of Ajan Kloss. He glances back at you.

“Just… be careful. I trust you, and if you think he’s good, then I think he is too. But… be careful. For your sake. For your safety. And for the sake of everyone else’s.”

–

Armitage stays close to your side as you all exit the Falcon. It’s his first look at Ajan Kloss, the planet you call home, and he’s surprised by it. He didn’t expect it to be this green, this… open. It’s been a while since he’s been in a place this full of colour and this full of light. He would almost call it beautiful, though the word seems foreign when he thinks it.

He knows he looks out of place on the planet next to you. You, in your dark green and browns. Him, in his black. The only parts of him that are no longer First Order regulation are his hair and his allegiance. He watches as people catch sight of him and sink back into themselves. He slightly self-consciously tugs on the bottom of his coat in an attempt to assert some kind of dominance, and then he stops. That’s not what he’s here for. That’s not him anymore.

You glance back at him as Poe, Finn and Chewie push past a Resistance commander he doesn’t recognise, but you do – Larma D’Acy. He gives you a small nod, a nod of reassurance, or the best he can manage of one. This place, it’s your home. The place you command respect. He refuses to let you sink down so low as to be someone like his keeper. To have to constantly be checking on him. You deserve better than that.

“We’ve gotta see the General,” he listens to Poe say to the woman, and he notices how you give her a tight-lipped smile as you slip past her with Armitage in tow.

But then you stop as she suddenly speaks, and he forces himself to a stop just in time to not run into you.

“She’s gone.” The woman says.

He spins around and looks at her as Poe, Finn, Chewie and you do the same.

“What?” Your word is merely more than a breath, and only Armitage hears you because he’s standing so close to you. It goes unheard by everyone else.

And for a moment, Armitage is confused. Gone? As in, gone to see someone, to do something – off planet, perhaps? But then he hears Chewie bellow, and he watches as you stumble sideways away from him and brace yourself on the ladder leading up to the X-wing beside you. He watches how Finn buries his face in his hands and how Poe tries to comfort the wookiee before being pushed away. And he knows that gone means something different to you.

Not gone briefly. But gone for good.

He watches you carefully. As you stand, hands on the ladder, and shudder in your grief. You’re crying, he knows that much. But he doesn’t know how to comfort you. He’s never been good at comfort, and part of him wants to walk over to you, to just try, but the part of him that wins out is the place within him that fears for you pushing him away.

And so he stands still. Allows himself to keep his distance. To let you and the others sit in your grief for a moment without interference. The woman stays standing and watches alongside him, and she gives him a strange look, but the look disappears soon after.

There are more important things to worry about than him right now.

–

He’s surprised at how quickly you compose yourself. Eventually, Chewie joins Finn and Poe and they slowly make their way back to the centre of the base in silence. Poe gives your shoulder a squeeze as he leaves, and it’s only minutes later that you’re standing up a little straighter and taking a deep breath. Armitage watches as you rub your face with your hands to remove the remaining tears as best you can, and then you turn back around and face him.

Your eyes are bloodshot and red, and his heart twinges.

“She was like a mother to me. That’s all.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

That earns him a look of relief.

You take another deep breath and then glance off to the side. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Resistance soon. I’ll make an announcement. I just need a second to…” You drift off and pause for a moment. “I’m going to go back to my quarters. I’ll find you some clothes and you can freshen yourself up before I introduce you. Come on, I’ll take you the quick way.”

Armitage joins you and walks alongside you as you lead him around the base. He takes in as much as he can – the people, the locations, the green of it all. It’s entirely different to the First Order, and he hopes that he can one day find a sense of comfort here that he never found in the First Order. He ignores the eyes that fall on him and his obvious black uniform and tries to focus on the future – soon enough, he will be in the Resistance completely. Soon enough, he will properly be fighting alongside you. Not flying, but fighting.

And then, moments later, you’re pushing a door open, welcoming him inside your quarters, and the first thing his eyes fall on is the First Order uniform he’d given you sitting by the end of your bed, folded neatly.

“I knew you didn’t forget them.”

Your eyes fall on the uniform and you chuckle. “It was a choice I made, to not wear them.”

Armitage scans your room. It’s small, much smaller than his quarters back on Steadfast, and he’s surprised by the size of it. It looks like you’re yet to really make yourself at home. The only personal items he sees are several of the small devices he’d given you over the months to give the Resistance information, and your clothes folded on a table beside your bed. There’s a small framed photo above your bed, but he can’t make out who’s in the photo from the door.

“There’s a small bathroom in there where you can freshen up. I’m going to go and get you some clothes. I’ll leave them on my bed and wait outside for you,” you explain, and then you’re gone, leaving him alone in your quarters.

Hesitantly, he wanders towards the room you’d motioned to and sees himself inside. There’s a shower, and he takes full advantage of it, and when he walks back into your quarters he sees the Resistance uniform sat on your bed like you’d said it would be. He picks up the clothes. They fill him with a sense of something he’s never felt before. And he pulls them on and finds himself surprised by how much more comfortable they really are compared to his usual First Order garb.

It’s only about twenty minutes after he first entered your quarters to when he opens the door and walks outside to find you leaning against the wall, fiddling with a bracelet around your wrist. You glance up at him as you hear the door and involuntarily gasp.

Armitage looks like an entirely different person.

He looks less harsh in the browns and greens of the Resistance. He looks much more comfortable. The trousers are a little tight on him, and the shirt a little short on him due to his height. But it suits him. The Resistance look suits him. And his hair– he’s entirely washed out the gel. His red hair falls over his forehead, and it’s a little longer than you thought it was without the gel in it, holding it in place. It looks… surprisingly soft, despite the darker patches which are still a little wet and drying. He looks entirely Resistance worthy.

You clear your throat. “How does it feel?”

He looks down at it and attempts to smooth his shirt down. “Scratchy.”

You laugh at that. “I never denied it.”

Then, you step forward and surprise him by straightening up his uniform a little. He looks lopsided, and the collar of his shirt is buttoned up so high it looks a little like he has no neck at all.

“You’re not First Order now. There’s no need for you to choke yourself with a buttoned up shirt. We’re a lot less strict on the uniform policies here, I imagine.”

He tenses up a little as you start to unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt, and for a moment he thinks he stops breathing entirely. You’re standing closer to him than you’ve ever been before and he’s not sure what to do with that information other than pause. When you’re done, you take a step back but your hands fall onto his shoulders as you survey the look. Then, you nod.

“Better. Much better.”

One of his hands goes to toy with his collar. It’s much looser than he’s used to. He feels strangely exposed… but he also feels freer than he’s ever felt before. It makes a surprisingly nice change from the uniform he’s been wearing for years. He finds he likes it.

He meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

“Oh, only doing my job to make you fit in.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Thank you for offering your hand.”

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Thank you for taking it.”

–

Armitage is nervous. He can’t bring himself to admit it to you, but as you take his hand and lead him towards where Poe has assembled the entire Resistance, he has to force himself to keep his feet moving. This moment, it’s make or break.

You fix him with a reassuring smile as you stop in front of the Resistance, and as you drop his hand, he quietly wishes you hadn’t. But he pushes the thought of his mind as soon as it entered and, instead, focuses on the way everyone is looking at him. He feels different, better, in his new Resistance uniform, but he can tell that everyone thinks it’s a facade of sorts. That he’s wearing it to fit in. He knows that several people probably just think he’s planning on taking them down from the inside. He, and you, are the only ones that know for sure that he isn’t.

He stands up straighter and remains by your side as you look around at everyone.

Then, you speak. “You all have probably seen him by now, and I know there are rumours floating around about why he’s here. I’m here to set those rumours straight,” you begin. “Armitage Hux, previously known as General Hux of the First Order, has been spying on the First Order for the Resistance for months. He’s the spy that I’ve been flying out to meet with and the one I’ve gotten all the information from.”

In the distance, someone loudly protests. Armitage watches as you shut them down with a look, and he’s impressed at how you take charge. At the respect you command among the Resistance. It’s a side of you he’s never really seen before – a side of you that he’s known has always been there, but one he’s never been able to see in all its glory. He likes seeing it.

“When Chewie and I were taken captive by the First Order, and after Poe and Finn came to rescue us with Rey, Armitage helped us. He helped us escape, and in return I offered him a chance at a new life. A chance at a life within the Resistance, helping us take the First Order down.”

“How could you do that? He’s killed us before! He’ll do it again!” Someone yells. He can’t see who they are or where they’re coming from, but their voice ignites a few cheers of agreement from people around them.

Armitage’s straight posture slumps a little.

You step forward and raise your voice equally. “We’ve lost too many people already! We’ve fought enough! I can’t force you to trust Armitage, but I can ask you to trust me. I know who he is. I know who he is now. And he is here, in our uniform, willing to help us win.” You glance back at him and he nods.

He’s not sure if it’s the right time, nor is he sure if it’s what you want, but he does it anyway. He steps forward, looks around at the Resistance, and decides to address them for the first time.

“When I first started sharing information with you, it was born out of a hate for Kylo Ren. I still remained loyal to the First Order, but I wanted Kylo to lose. I didn’t care for who won,” he speaks, and it’s the first time he’s spoken in this way since leaving the First Order. He commands no respect here, only hatred and minor fear, but he says it anyway. “Over the months, in meeting with her,” he nods towards you, “I have learnt to support the Resistance. I still want Kylo to lose. But now I wish for the Resistance to win. And I am here, alive, thanks to her allowing me to choose a different life. A different path. I intend to fight for the Resistance, and I am here asking you to let me.”

There’s silence after his words, and he steps back and wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything. If his words were just said and not heard. But then a woman he recognises steps out from the crowd and fixes him with a look. He doesn’t remember her name, but he’s seen her before – a year ago, he’d nearly killed her with Finn by her side. His resolve crumbles a little.

She looks between you and Armitage, and then she nods. “I can’t trust you, Armitage,” she speaks, and then looks at you. “But I can trust you. People can change. I trust that. And if we turn away someone wanting to help us, what sort of people are we? No matter where they come from. If we turn them away, we’re sinking to a level I don’t think any of us want to be at.”

You smile proudly at Rose and make a note to thank her later.

–

When the Resistance disbands and goes back to work, you take a moment to turn to Armitage. His appearance is still strange for you to take in, but it’s slowly becoming normal to you, to see him so similarly dressed to you. And you’re proud of him for stepping up and talking to the Resistance, explaining so you didn’t have to.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” You cross your arms and look up at him.

He raises his eyebrows. “I thought I was about to be kicked into the nearest X-wing and blasted off into space for a moment, but no, not so bad.”

You flash him a grin and then glance over to where you see Poe’s retreating form – he’s going to where Leia’s body is. “You know the way back to my quarters, don’t you?”

Armitage nods.

“I’m going to go and talk to Poe. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. Wait for me there, would you? We’re going to have to sort out a few more things,” you hum.

He watches you as you jog off after Poe – your side, he supposes, mustn’t be causing you too much pain anymore after you got it patched up in the infirmary before the meeting. And then, when you disappear, he sighs and turns.

Armitage takes a second to look at the Resistance around him. His new home, if he could call it that yet. But the place he’s supposed to find comfort. There are less eyes on him this time as he walks on his own back to your quarters. He knows that has to do with you. And he’s thankful.

–

Poe taps his fingers together as he stares at the sheet covering Leia’s body. You’re sat beside him, legs crossed on the chair you’re sat on. It’s been a few minutes since you joined him, and neither of you have said a word.

You both find just sitting in her presence is as calming as it always was.

She had been like a mother to you both when you joined the Resistance. And when you’d doubted your flying ability when you accidentally nearly cost a member of Poe’s squadron their life on a flight drill, she had been the one to assure you that you were a valued pilot. Her belief in you had been what forced you to keep trying. To keep pushing yourself to be better. To become the pilot you were today – unafraid, willing to do whatever it took, ruthless, when necessary.

You owe that to her. You wish she knew it.

And most of all, you wish you could tell her about Armitage. About his spying for you, and about how much you’d grown to like his company. How it surprised you – how he surprised you, nearly on an hourly basis these days. How he had come to be a person you considered a friend.

You’re grateful that you at least can share that with Poe.

It’s nearly like he can hear what you’re thinking when he finally breaks the silence and meets your eyes. There are tears in his, and they take you aback, but he’s blinking them away before you can mention them.

“You held your own out there… when you explained everything to everyone. I think Armitage was impressed with you. I was too,” he pauses, and then looks back at Leia. “I think she might have made a mistake in naming me General instead of you.”

“Leia knew what she was doing.”

“Yeah? It doesn’t feel like it.”

You sit up straighter in your chair and knot your hands together in front of yourself. Poe doesn’t look at you as you look at him. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Leia, but you know he’s hearing you when you speak.

“You’ve technically been her second-in-command for over a year, Poe. You’ve been leading missions, saving people. I would never have even met and started communicating with Armitage if you hadn’t made contact with Boolio,” you tell him. He’s the best damn leader the Resistance has now that they no longer have Leia. You only wish that he could see it.

Poe shakes his head at your words. “I’m never going to be the General that you could be.” He doesn’t say what follows. You know what he’s thinking: transferring it to you could be the way to go.

“You’re right.” His head snaps towards you. “You’re going to be better than I ever could be. I’m not built to lead the Resistance, Poe. I’m built to fly in your squadron, under your command. I’m built to be there when you need me, just like Finn is, just like Chewie and Rey and BB-8 and every other person on this base. I’m built to fly into battle on Exegol beside you when you need me to.”

He opens his mouth to protest. You beat him to it.

“I have a healing blaster wound in my side, but I can damn well fly an X-wing when you need me to. I can be anything you need me to be, Poe, but I cannot be General of the Resistance. Leia picked you for that. You’re allowed to do with that what you will, but you will not transfer command to me. I won’t let you.”

Poe fixes you with a look. “I think I need some time to think this all over.”

You smile sadly at him. He’s not wrong, and even if it’s not what he meant, you push yourself to your feet and then lean down to squeeze his shoulder with a hand. He needs time alone to think. To process. And you need to get back to Armitage.

“I’ll fly at your command, General. I trust you’ll do what’s right.”

–

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