#but I had to draw the sad face of a man who has rolled into a river during a storm multiple times

[luvbinnies]

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable. 

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building. 

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media. 

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has. 

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index,  hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes. 

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours. 

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months. 

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him. 

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them. 

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault. 

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution. 

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to. 

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly. 

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil. 

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care. 

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands. 

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his  stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug. 

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything. 

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away. 

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then. 

So now you hold on to that damn pencil. 

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday. 

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to. 

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. 

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying. 

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it. 

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do. 

But he does.

He always does. 

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page. 

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.” 

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble. 

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance. 

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out. 

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns— 

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing. 

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar. 

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners. 

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists. 

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen. 

 The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His. 

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. 

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze. 

Sunghoon had turned in his seat. 

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other. 

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised. 

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day. 

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: yn@beliftuniversity.com

To: parksunghoon@beliftuniversity.com 

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done. 

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not  even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates. 

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game. 

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it. 

He doesn’t hit send. 

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder. 

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin. 

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor. 

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face. 

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today. 

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses. 

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold. 

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin. 

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents. 

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more. 

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered. 

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you. 

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project. 

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time. 

—

Two year ago

 It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started. 

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race. 

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone. 

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable. 

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it. 

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all. 

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken. 

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed. 

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself. 

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened. 

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always. 

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it. 

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet. 

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. 

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out. 

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted. 

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks. 

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past. 

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else. 

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon. 

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you. 

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking. 

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out. 

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself. 

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical. 

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged. 

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right. 

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name. 

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him. 

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too. 

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again. 

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid. 

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is. 

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate. 

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat. 

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for. 

But you can’t. 

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you. 

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well. 

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss. 

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you. 

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best. 

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him. 

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression. 

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer. 

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it. 

Because he knows.

Because he did leave. 

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all. 

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid. 

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder. 

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills. 

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle. 

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers. 

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished. 

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him. 

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line. 

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over. 

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge. 

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?” 

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky. 

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.” 

-

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

[demonic0angel]

:33 Can. Can... Cough. DCXDP PROMPT

Dan is the crowned Ghost King, Dani and Danny are like his kids and Jazz his sister ofcourse. Dan tries to be peaceful and shit for his siblingskids' sake but the GIW has other plans and kidnaps/Ambushes the two and boom. Chaos. Dan loosing his shit and the JL having to be involved (I wanna see a rare pair for Dan <33)

-A.E. 👻

Ps. I'm drawing an animation for this prompt <33

Pps/pass(??). I'm still drawing the cutting Wit ship, never forgot that <33

Part 2

Superman froze.

There was a monster in the middle of the room. It had a humanoid shape, but its general form was incomprehensible, unable to be understood even by Superman. Something white resembling clothes covered its body, but it was stained crimson. Rivers of blood dripped onto the floor in puddles.

The creature was clutching at two smaller beings, who were desperately clawing at its back and cape, whimpering. The creature made noises alongside them, a strange sort of wheezy noise.

Superman looked around at the torn apart corpses on the floor. Limbs laid askew and organs were separated from bodies. Everything smelled like blood and fear.

The creature made another soft sound and Superman finally realized what it was doing.

It was crying.

“… excuse me?” Superman asked, because he wanted to know everything, “are you alright?”

“… disgust me,” the creature mumbled.

“I’m sorry?”

The being turned and its glowing red eyes struck Superman and froze him in his place in fear. The color was unlike anything he had ever seen, like fire and death and glowing ashes from complete and utter annihilation. The creature was crying brightly colored, acidic tears that trailed down a green face, with each droplet rolling down its cheek and burning holes onto the ground.

“You humans disgust me!” The creature roared, flashing sharp fangs that could break through bone. “I held myself back! I tried to be a good person! A better person! I tried so hard to make good decisions and be a good king and a good family! And this is how you repay me?! By hurting the ones I love?!”

Superman’s gaze involuntarily darted downwards, to the two other beings. They whimpered, and Superman suddenly realized that they were this creature’s family. They were sluggishly bleeding and they were also crying softly, the same tears flowing down their faces as they sobbed.

Superman’s heart simultaneously broke in two and dropped to his feet from fear as the creature snarled.

“I was too kind. I should’ve eradicated all of your worlds! Every single one of you will die for hurting them!”

Superman floated an inch back and the creature bristled like it was an offense, wispy hair flaring like a roaring flame before it prepared itself to lunge forward, and just as Superman readied himself to fight, a woman stepped in front of him and a whip immediately wrapped itself around the creature’s throat, holding him still.

“Danny! Calm yourself! We’re fine!” The woman said, and Superman immediately snapped back to attention.

“What do you need for me to do?” He asked, and the woman, who was bravely defending herself against the creature, waved a hand for him to leave.

Superman blinked. And then he stayed, watching. The creature calmed, still crying, but now it— he just looked sad, brows furrowing as he then reached for the woman with another sob, not dissimilar to the children in his lap, “Jazz!”

The woman stepped forward, dropping the whip without a second thought, and enveloped him in a hug. “Shhhh,” she said. “You did so well. You protected the kids. You did well.”

She calmed the creature with a few more words, stroking the creature’s hair, and after a few long moments, where Superman started to feel like a fifth wheel, there was a bright flash, and the creature that once had white fiery hair and luminescent skin, turned into a normal man with pale skin and long, raven locks.

Superman’s eyes widened. The woman finally turned back to address him and said, “I’m sorry, can you take Dan, please? I’ll take Danny and Ellie.”

Superman nodded, drifting down to carefully handle the now unconscious man. He was surprisingly light, despite his bulky frame, and he was also undoubtedly beautiful. His eyes were closed, but he had a shadow of fear over his face. Superman gingerly held him close, a mixture of worried for the man, afraid of him, and also very confused at the entire situation. The man stirred, causing Superman to tense, but then he only buried his head into Superman’s shoulder.

A shiver ran down Superman’s spine. He felt irrationally conflicted within himself with how close the man was to tearing his throat out.

“I’m sorry, but can you please explain to me what happened? Who are these people? What is this place? What happened, and who is this person? Who are you?”

The woman nodded, picking up the two children. One of them tucked his head into her shoulder, but the other hissed at Superman, bright blue eyes flashing as she bared tiny little fangs. Oddly enough, Superman felt extremely endeared.

“I’ll tell you everything. Just take us out of here first.”

Superman nodded, and off they went.

(Side note: I have a hc that the name ‘Danny’ is very important to Dan and Dani, since it is a name that they chose for themselves. However, since Danny is considered more important, they ‘surrendered’ the name to him, but only Jazz really knows how much they like being called “Danny,” which is why she uses it to calm the two down or address them, and then uses “Dan” and “Ellie” anytime else.)

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter four: you said no attachment

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - talking things out seems impossible, so you give up and do exactly what you shouldn't. you, azriel, and eris seem to never be able to find a way to communicate or to tell each other how you feel.

word count - 3.2k

a/n - man. i'm sorry. i love making things go horribly wrong. i swear things will work out at some point, but right now everybody has to be sad and afraid otherwise it's too easy. ALSO thank you to everyone who is showing so much support for this series. like i wish i could buy you all cookies or something.

read the rest of the series here!

You push your way into the locker room slowly. It’s filled with steam, curling its way from the showers, around the lockets, pooling at your feet. Almost like it was reaching you, pulling you towards him. You hear the steady stream of water against tile, broken only by the body under it. He wasn’t facing you. His back taught and head down, letting the scolding water stain his hair darker. 

“Eris?” 

Your voice was wavering and unsure. Your feet moving from side to side, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. He straightened, his head raising, his entire body stiffening. Hackles up. The water turned off. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall next to him and wrapped it around his waist before turning around, towards you, but not looking at you. He traipsed across the room to his bag and started rifling through it for his clothes. His only acknowledgement of you, a small sniff as you sighed. 

“Please talk to me” 

It was the closest thing to begging he’d ever heard from you. Those four words drenched in desperation that was so out of character that his eyes snapped to yours. He shook his head, 

“I don’t have anything to say.” 

You take a deep shuddering breath. Trying to think what he wants from you. Scraping every corner of your mind for the right thing to say. You come up empty. You study his face, the cut on his lip, his forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a garish bruise was starting to form on his cheekbone. You take a tentative step towards him. He doesn’t move an inch, almost as if he’s frozen. A deer in headlights. His eyes don’t leave yours as you draw closer and raise a hand to brush your fingers over the welt now blossoming under his skin. His eyes flutter closed and it takes all of his effort to lean away from your touch instead of into it. 

“Don’t” A small warning. Enough to force you a couple steps back. “I don't think I can do this. I meant it.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Please don’t say that. Please. You want to talk? Let’s talk. You can’t just decide you’re done. There’s two of us in this Eris.” 

“You want to talk? Talk then.” 

He stares at you. His face completely unreadable. Cold in a way that it never had been before. His eyes always sold him away, always carried all of his feelings, like a window straight to his heart. But now, looking at them, you couldn’t see a thing. The only other person who ever managed that kind of mask….was Azriel. 

“I didn’t mean to blame you.” It was a lame response. You knew that. But you continued anyway. “You were hurt, and you'd gotten into a fight with Az, and I was worried, and lashed out.” 

He didn’t say anything. Small droplets of water rolled down his chest. His hair was tousled and damp. The heat of his body contrasting so harshly with the cool air, that small wisps of steam curled from him. It would have been a beautiful sight, if the look on his face didn’t scare you quite as much as it did. 

“Who were you really worried about?” His voice was low and calm. Horrifyingly calm. 

“Both of you.” 

It was an honest answer. Just not the one he wanted to hear. 

“I’m tired. I’m tired of being a second choice. I’m not something you can keep in your backpocket. I l-” 

He shook his head. As if the last couple words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not when he was looking at you, draped in a jersey that wasn’t his, your eyes so desperate and pleading. I love you too much. That’s what he wanted to say. What he couldn’t say. Not when all he could think about was Azriel, and all those unspoken feelings. 

“You’re not.” 

That’s all you could say. Choking down the tears that you wanted to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not like this. You wouldn’t let him see that. It was too pathetic. Too desperate. 

He stared at you. Blankly. Mind reeling. You were on the brink of tears. He could see it plain as day. Just cry. Show some emotion. Any emotion. He wanted to yell it at you. Beg you. At least the tears would prove that this was more than nothing. But you didn’t. You just stood. Like looking at him was the most painful thing you could possibly be doing. 

He thought of Azriel. He had heard the two of you yelling before he had retreated to the showers, hoping that the water would drown out the sound of it. He didn’t want to hear what was being said. Didn’t need to hear more of Azriel’s opinions on him. 

He thought of the way that Azriel had years of history with you. The way he’d seen you cry, something you’d refuse to do in front of him. The way Eris had watched your eyes drift off into some far away thought and had your eyes snap back into focus, on him. Azriel had your embrace in moments of panic, a comfort and a quiet that you floated towards. A solace and hiding place you looked for. You never seemed to grow tired of him the way you grew tired of others. Azriel would have you for lifetimes and Eris didn’t want to be a footnote in that story.

“I just need time to think.” That was all he could think to say before finally pulling a shirt over his head. And turning away from you. 

“I’m scared of what that means.” 

He shook his head. He couldn’t look back at you. One right word from you and he’d cave. He’d give you anything you wanted no matter what it did to him. Your voice hit him again, like a bullet, 

“I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.” 

He pulled his pants on and sat down to lace his shoes. Still refusing to look at you as he said the first thing that came to mind, 

“Well you always have Az to wash away whatever guilt you're feeling. I said it before. I’m done, so why don’t you go cry to him?” 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw your jaw set. The small nod of your head. It was the wrong thing to say. But he was begging you to prove him right. Begging you to do something to prove to him that he wasn’t what you wanted. 

You felt weak. Like your knees were about to buckle. Like every horrible thing you ever thought about yourself was right. It didn’t matter how much you cared about him, you never were able to find a way to make that clear. Could never just say it. Could never really figure it out. But he was right and that was the worst part. You fled from the locker room as quickly as you could while still holding onto a shred of dignity. The tears you had choked down rising like a violent tide. Tearing through your every nerve. Your whole body felt like it was burning, like the loss of him might actually consume you. Alone again. You couldn’t stand it. 

★ ★ ★ 

You shouldn’t have done it. But you weren’t thinking, completely on autopilot as you drove, as you walked up the steps, as your arm raised and knocked on the door. Your eyes still glistening, your cheeks red, and your body shaking lightly as the door opened slowly. 

Azriel. 

His eyes flashed with confusion, his hand going to run through his hair before leaning against the door frame as he took you in. Your jacket is gone. His jersey hanging off you. You looked wrecked. Terrified. So clearly the conversation with Eris didn’t work out and here you were. Like you always were when you lost something. 

“Is Cass home?” 

Your voice was shredded. Hoarse and devastated. The mask of cool collection you usually aimed for completely lost now. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the door slightly more ajar. 

“You want to talk?” 

You sniffled and curled your arms around yourself, “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.” 

“So…What do you want?” 

He knew exactly what you wanted. He just needed to hear it straight from your bitten red and raw lips. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

A whisper. A small admission. Almost a question. 

He held out an arm and you pulled yourself into his embrace too easily. Your arms immediately circling around his neck. He leaned down to pull your legs around his waist and carried you across the threshold. Closing the door behind him. His fingers bruising against your thighs. Like he wanted his fingerprints embedded in your skin forever. His lips never leaving yours as he walked towards his room. As he lowered you to his bed. Only pulling away to peel your clothes off slowly. To press open mouthed kisses against your neck as he let his hands roam. His pace slow and deliberate, as if every small claim of his lips was a victory. 

It was. A small victory. He’d have you for lifetimes, maybe only like this, when he was needed to fill some emptiness inside you. But still. Others would have you for minutes at a time that in their lifespan would boil down to nothing. But he’d have you forever. A small form of revenge. 

He traced every path he thought Eris might have once marked as his own. Neither of you saying a word. Both of you ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Azriel only pausing once to wipe them away with a brief brush of his thumbs and soft shushing from his lips, before he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. The force behind it bruising and almost angry. Like he wanted it to hurt. Like he wanted you to remember that feeling in the morning. Like he wanted you to remember that other men would have your adhd driven drifts of attention, your accolades and commendation. Your fantasies and broken form of love tainted remedies to draw out seconds on a timesheet. Your short term hyperfocus. Your false forms of naive intimacies. Your fleeting fingers through their hair when they bend their heads to you. Your anger when they don’t live up to the image you’ve built in your head. 

You closed your eyes. Letting him take the lead. You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything, but feel him. Because that was the easiest thing you could possibly do. The easiest way to not be alone. 

Azriel reveled in it. Your attention when convenient. Your gaze when you thought he was too lost in his movements against you. The way he could still feel your anger from earlier bubbling under the surface, and the way that it didn’t matter now. The way that you had still come to him. The way that he was always right. The way that the little jersey stunt had worked exactly in his favor. The way he always managed to do exactly what you wanted. The way your nails raked across his shoulder blades and you let out a choked sob. 

He’d let you right to it. Something to be angry about again. The one thing you wanted. The one thing you never wanted Eris to see. The one real thing you were. Angry and afraid. Afraid of everything you had ever felt. 

A small form of revenge. 

He held you close to his chest after. He knew you’d leave. Just like you had done before. Just like you did every time something too intimate, no matter what the scale, happened between the two of you. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You’d stopped crying, but by the way you were breathing he knew you still wanted to. So he held you tighter. 

★ ★ ★

You left while he was still asleep. Seven in the morning. Guilt rippling through your entire body. Eris expected the worst from you, so you did the worst thing you could think of, and it felt good. That was the worst part. You closed Azriel’s door as quietly as you could and turned around, immediately met with Cassian’s hulking form leaning against the wall of the hallways. His arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. Your eyes widened. Since when has he ever woken up this early? 

“Again?” 

You didn’t respond. Heading for the door shaking your head. He stepped in front of you, blocking your exit. 

“Why?” 

His voice was a whisper, but the question hit like he was shouting. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said it. 

“You look like you just had a death in the family or something. That’s not how you should look after hooking up with someone. This is…this fucking sadness that you get from Eris….Even Az can’t fix that.” 

You look at him now. He was wrong. Of course he wanted to blame Eris. Why wouldn’t he? 

“It’s not Eris that made me….” 

You trailed off and Cassian inhaled deeply. Finally getting it. Whatever you and Azriel had going on…hurt you just as much as it hurt him. A mutual form of self destruction. 

“So why did you do it?” 

Azriel’s door opened now. You didn’t hear it. Didn’t notice that Azriel had finally woken up and was watching intently as you responded, 

“Because Azriel….” You push Cassian out of the way and reach for the door, “Eris makes me weak.” 

You close the door behind you and Cassian flinches at the sound of it clicking shut. His eyes looking towards his friend now. Azriel looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eris makes me weak. The only way you could think to say that you were in love with him. The only way you could find to express that the feeling scared you so deeply that you went back to something you, and everyone else, had so adamantly ignored for years. It was almost like falling in love with Azriel and wasting it had turned you into something cold. Something accidentally cruel. 

Cassian sighed and shook his head. The disappointment coming off him in waves. Azriel unsure which one of them that disappointment was really directed at. Cassian watched him, he looked small, and unlike himself. He thought of the years Az had spent chasing whatever had happened between the two of you that one night. Like he was so desperate to prove that he was capable of love. Like having you in any small form would make him better at it, like doing whatever he could to keep you away from other people, and bring you back to him. Would prove that he could love someone. Like letting you in last night and fucking you while you cried was a testament to how much he was willing to ignore. Maybe that was what he thought love was. Ignoring all the bad and taking you anyways, under any condition, nevermind who your heart really called for. 

“You’re just a glutton for punishment aren’t you Az?” 

That was all Cassian said as he turned back to his room and shut the door sharply behind him. Leaving Azriel to stand alone in the morning shadow soaked hall. 

★ ★ ★

Eris’ apartment felt empty. Without your laughter. Without you sitting at his kitchen counter biting your nails and complaining about whatever class was pissing you off at the moment. 

He sat alone in his living room. Your sweater still draped over the back of the chair he crashed into. His eyes falling on the plants you had lined up against his windowsill while muttering something about lifeless male living spaces. The notes you had written him stuck to his fridge. The books you had left scattered across his coffee table. The pair of shoes you placed next to his by the door, shrugging, and saying it’s good to have a spare. Almost every inch of his apartment screamed your name, and begged for your return. 

He remembered the ice in your stare as he told you to run back to Azriel. The kind of cold he could never warm. The set determination of your walk as you strode away from him. He knew exactly where you were right now. He knew that you had done exactly what you told him to, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame you. He should have just talked to you. Should have made it clear to you that he wanted everything. That he was all in. That he didn’t care about the fact that you were scared, he could see it clear as day. He’d seen it since you started seeing each other. The way that you were so terrified that the second you admitted how much he meant to you, he’d leave. 

It wasn’t like you made your affections a secret. You had decorated his apartment. You had spent all of your free time with him. You had held him so tight at night that sometimes he wondered if you thought that if you let go he’d slip away, or fade away. You had given him annotated book’s, highlighting lines you thought he might like. Had sent him playlists and pictures of things throughout the day that reminded you of him. Had wrapped your arms around him lazily and pulled him away from his computer whispering you have to stop being such a workaholic. The closest you let yourself get to exhibiting how much you worried about him. You had made it as clear as you could. 

But he could’t wipe the image of Azriel’s smirk as you had yelled at him what the fuck is wrong with you? Like your outburst was some sort of victory. Like shadowsinger had won. Like getting Eris to fight him was exactly what he had hoped for.

He remembered the way that Azriel went slack under him as they fought, the way he had let Eris throw punch after punch and seemed almost elated as blood spilled from his mouth. Like the blood would stain your hands and force you into remembering what and who really mattered. And maybe it had. 

Eris sighed and stood from his chair. Sleep. He needed sleep. But when he laid eyes on his bed, the sheets rumpled and blankets a mess. He thought of you that morning. Refusing to wake up, quietly calling for him to come back to bed, telling him to stop answering emails and come kiss you awake. The way he’d obliged and reveled in your warmth, and your smell, and the soft graze your fingers across his skin. He should have stopped you from leaving. 

I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.

He should have told you. I love you too much. But he didn’t and now he’d have to suffer the consequences. Maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he thought, this is what happens when he let himself fall in love with someone. When he let his walls down. When he let someone into his space. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@redr0sewrites

[pinkthrone445]

-Baila conmigo- Part 2

(Dance with me)

Part 1

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Fun, soft, first time knowing someone, slow burn

Warnings:a little bit of insecure Mel (future smut)

Summary:Mel finds you sad in a bar and decides to step in, not knowing that life will bring you back together again. When she sees you again, she doesn't know how to react.

What a way to start your first day, with the firefighters emptying the school and finding out that the woman you had kissed the night before worked there.

On the other hand, the kids were perfect, ready as a sponge to absorb everything you had to teach. They were well-educated and learned children, you could tell that their previous teacher was really interested in them. The school also had some glitches and problems, but you didn't plan to complain now that you finally had a job.

At lunchtime, the children went out to eat and you stayed in your classroom drawing on the board to encourage them when they returned. Also, you hadn't brought food and you didn't know if going to the staff room for coffee would be the right thing to do since Melissa would be there.

-"Hey sweetheart..."-one of the oldest teachers got in your classroom with a big smile on her face-"I'm Barbara, nice to meet you. I'm the fist grade teacher..."-She stretched out her hand to greet you and you took it smiling too

-"Hi, I'm (Y/N), the new second grade teacher" - You said irrelevantly since you were in your classroom and it was obvious that you were the teacher, the oldest laugh

-"I can see that... Do you want to have lunch with us? It will be nice to know the others and also see if you have any thoughts about the smoking kid" - she offered and you got a little bit nervous

-"I don't have any food and don't want to interrupt you all, I don't mind staying here drawing for the kids" - You said quickly trying to avoid going to the teacher's room since the redhead would be there

-"Oh that's no problem at all, Melissa always has extra food, she surely will share with you and also, we teachers also deserve a break... Let's go" - she took your hand giving you no room for arguing and guiding you to the teacher's room.

As soon as you entered, you could hear how everyone was talking about the student who had smoked and what to do about it. But the subject quickly turned when everyone began to accuse each other because some of them vaped or ingested an edible from time to time, Barbara quickly intervened to add her comment

-"Don't these children know that smoking kills?" - a young teacher said and one of them scoffed

-"Jacob, you literally vape" - Janine, the teacher you were subbing for spoke

-"Okay, that's different, that's..."-Jacob,now you knew his name, added but got interrupted

-"Yes! And that is worse because you can vape anywhere" - Janine added and you stayed standing in the doorway, being invisible to everyone

-"You inhale thousand of toxins, yuck" - another young teacher added

-"Yeah, well...Janine smokes weed every day" - Jacob replied and everyone gasped, you included to not feel left out

-"Daamm afroman" - Ava said and you silently laughed

-"No! Not every day... Every night..."-Janine said a little bit ashamed

-"The devil's lettuce" - Barbara said

-"That's why your feet are so big" - The janitor said and you looked at her feet curious, they were a little big for her high...

They started to acuse her, specially Ava, but the teacher you didn't knew his name yet, stood up for her

-"Ava you can't talk,okay? you are a hookah head" - He said and the principal nodded

-"Mhhh hhhm, facts. And micro dosing, I just eyeball it and said, yes that's enough" - Ava simply said

-"Now, I don't smoke, but I do enjoy a protein bar edible on the weekends. Research actually shows..."-The guy who defended Janine started talking again and Ava rolled her eyes

-"Wooow, this man just made drugs boring"-she nodded

-"I suggest that you all drop your vices, and take a hit of my drug of choice J-E-S-U-S, street name Christ! - Barbara said and everyone put a boring face on, Melissa scoffed this time lifting her finger

-"Uh, you've been known to demolish those little bottles of Chardonnay" - The redhead said pointing at her friend

-"And you snort that liquid Marijuana" - The friend quickly replied to her

-"You don't snort it, it's CBD oil, and I rub it on my joints" - You listened to her and couldn't avoid thinking about helping her rub that oil in her soft smooth skin, a small whimper escaped your lips, everyone kept talking but the redhead listened and looked at you, turning a little bit red.

The janitor was about to speak but Janine stoped him

-"Don't finish that sentence" - she quickly said pointing at you and it was your turn to blush thinking that someone else heard your little whimper, but everyone stood and walked right out, chasing a student that was hiding behind you and recording all the conversation. You quickly ran after him like everyone else, and you were the first to get him

-"Nice work speedy" - Ava said. Everyone began to interrogate the boy about the video, but before anything could be done he had already shared it and many people had seen it, so the school district immediately took the matter in their own hands, again.

A few hours later, everyone in the school already had seen the video and F.A.D.E came to the school to give a talk about substances and drugs, to make some damage control.

After taking your children to the gym, Barbara invited you to sit with her and Melissa since there was a free space next to the redhead, and you had no choice but to accept since there were no more free spaces around.

You spent the whole talk giving her not so discreet glances out of the corner of your eye, a little overwhelmed by not knowing how to talk to her without making her feel uncomfortable. After torturous hours of listening to meaningless rhymes and bad advice, the meeting ended and still neither you nor she had spoken a word to each other.

Before you knew it, the day of school was over and your new students had gone home. Without thinking much about things and concecuenses, you went to the teachers' room to ask the redhead if the plans of the night before were still standing. Thank heavens, the redhead was in the teachers' room packing some of her Tupperware and none of the other teachers were there.

-"Hola Mel" -You said and she looked at you with a little bit of annoyance in her face

-"Tell me the truth please, what are you doing here?" - she asked and you frowned

-"I was looking for you, to ask..."-you started talking but she interrupted you

-"No, I don't mean here in the teacher's room, I mean in the school" -she barked at you

-"I have a job here..."-you answer and you saw fear in her eyes-"Look, I applied for the job way before we find each other in that bar, I'm not stalking you or anything and I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable to see me here, but I really need this job and I'm not gonna let it go"-You answered confidently and she sighed

-"I'm really sorry, I've dated people who weren't very stable and I was scared when I first saw you... I thought maybe you were a little obsessive."-She whispered embarrassedly, avoiding looking at you and playing with the lid of one of her tupperware containers nervously

-"Don't take it the wrong way, you're beautiful Melisa, but it would take more than one kiss from you to drive me crazy for you" - You joked and she barely laughed, still embarrassed. You carefully approached her side, delicately taking one of her trembling hands, immediately she raised her head looking at you and you smiled- "Look, last night I had a very nice and fun night with you but I thought we would never see each other again since we didn't share our numbers and I was a little embarrassed to ask your brother for your contact, but this morning the universe gave me another opportunity to see you again and that makes me very happy. But if you don't feel comfortable with me being here, it's okay and I understand, I'll keep my distance. You don't need to feel scared or helpless, you can choose what you want to do"-You whispered looking at her trying to calm her down and she smiled at you with a little embarrassment

-"I want to... I want to go on with our previous plan and go out with you, if you think that's okay... Maybe go to dance to a good bar if you know a Latin one with good music?" - she said and you smiled more. You gave her a chance to walk away but she didn't and that made you happier than you wanted to admit.

-"Hey guys, you are still here!"-Jacob entered the teacher's room and you immediately let go of the redhead's hand-"Ready to go home Mel-Mel?" - He asked and she looked at you, you looked at her smiling a little bit-"Am I interrupting something?" - He asked and the redhead got nervous again

-"Not at all... I just invited her for a few drinks to make some friends since I'm new here" - You quickly said and he nodded

-"Can I join? I'm fun to be around. I know some pretty good bars" - Jacob offered

-"You can if Melissa wants to... But I already picked the bar, a gay latin bar" - You said and his smile grew a lot

-"You are gay?" - He asked and you nodded - "I'm gay too! Oh- my - god, are we best friends already?" - The young guy asked and Mel looked at him a little embarrassed for his behavior

-"Not yet, but we are off too a good start"-You said making the redhead laugh-"let's go, it's too late and my body needs a glass immediately after a day like today"

Melissa and her roomate followed you, but along the way the others found you and also joined in, including the school's cameramen, which you were not yet used to seeing.

When everyone entered the bar, the music was playing with a good beat, the food was delicious and there were many friendly people. Quickly everyone settled down and ordered drinks and food, you were about to sit next to the redhead but Ava beat you and sat next to you

-"Hi, I read your file, so you're latin... I know a little bit of spanish..."-she tried to remember and smiled looking at you in a flirtatious way-"Está muy caliente y deliciosa(It's very hot and delicious), they used to tell me that when I went to Cuba, they kept telling me I was hot and delicious every time I went to any restaurant or bar" - She said proudly and you smiled trying no to laugh, maybe they told her that because they were serving her food, not talking specifically about her but you will not burst her bubble

-"That's a very good accent Ava" - You said smiling and kept talking to her. Meanwhile, the redhead was looking at you with squinting eyes, she knew that you and she barely knew each other, but she also knew how Ava was and how much she liked to flirt and she wouldn't let that happen with you, your attention was better when it was directed at her, Ava could find herself another person to flirt with.

-"Hey honey, do you want to dance?" - The redhead asked standing next to you, her jacket was slightly open and as you were sitting, her cleavage was right in front of your eyes when you looked up to look at her and answer, which made you blush

-"Y-yeah, sure, let's go" - You took her hand and headed for the dance floor a little confused, she immediately placed her hands around your neck and directed yours to her waist - "I thought you were going to eat first" - You said and she looked at you frowning

-"Be careful with Ava, she is a flirt" - she said with annoyance in her tone

-"And you are not?"-You asked and she frowned more-"I'm a flirt too, you don't like when I flirt with you? Maybe I should go flirt with Ava" - You teased and she pulled you closer

-"Don't you dare" - she said threatening

-"What is this Mel? I thought you were going to take this slow now that we work together" - You kept teasing

-"This means nothing, we are nothing, I just want your attention on me" - she confessed and blushed when she heard herself - "I mean that is better that you have your attention on me that on the dangerous Ava" - she tried to correct herself

-"I never picture you as the jealous tipe" - You said

-"I'm not, just shut up" - she said anoyyed

-"Make me" - You replied and she gave you a little very short peck that made your brain stop working, you never expected that to happen with her coworkers being there, you knew the low lights and the people dancing around you made a cover, but anyways it made your brain short circuit

-"I thought that might work, now keep your mouth shut and let's keep dancing" - she said proudly looking at your shocked and lost face.

[beansprean]

"So, how did Guillermo get started as Nandor's familiar?"

"Nadja and Nadjita Tell It"; my entry for the Rashomon-style AO3 collection "So How Did You Two Meet?"! Check out the other fic and art entries to see the other characters' perspectives!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Nadja and Dolly wearing matching pinkish-red gowns with dark blue sleeves sitting side by side in armchairs in the foyer, stairs twisting up behind them, as they do a talking head. Nadja tosses her hands up and scowls, rolling her eyes, and says 'Guillermo? What was that, 80 years ago? How should I remember?' Dolly has an open pack of crayons tucked into the chair next to her and has a stack of paper as big as her torso in her hands. She scribbles on it with a red crayon and clicks her tongue dismissively, replying, 'I remember everything. Let me show you.' 1b. Tight shot of Dolly's eyes in extreme closeup in the foreground, Nadja waist-up in the background. Nadja turns toward Dolly with a frown, one hand held palm up beside her head, and points out gently, 'But you weren't even there, my sweet little piglet.' Dolly responds, eyes focused on her paper, 'Then tell me if I get anything wrong.' 1c. Medium shot from the front, focused on Dolly as she smiles and turns her paper around to show the camera a clumsy crayon drawing of the vampire mansion. Nadja leans on one arm of her chair and ducks her head to get a closer look. Dolly begins, her speech bubbles turning into gilded scrollwork, 'Once upon a time...' 1d. The panels are now parchment paper with crayon drawings. This one depicts Guillermo, his body made of a single circle with a head on top and stick arms and legs with little circles for hands and feet. There is a big frown on his face, and behind him is a house shape in green with double doors and a P on the front followed by ellipses. Dolly's voiceover continues: '...there was a sad, round little human man with broken eyes who had a job at... uh... P...Pan...' Nadja's speech bubble appears, now in curly pink script: 'I believe it was Panda Bread, agapoula mou.' Dolly: 'Ah, yes! He had the job making breads from the panda milk, one of the most lowly forms of human labor.' 1e. Repeat of the previous drawing, now with a few additions from Nadja with a pink crayon: the building is titled Panda Bread, Guillermo is holding a load of bread and has a tear in his eye, and arrows are pointing toward him reading 'sad' and 'virgin'. 1f. Drawing of Nandor, whose body is made in the same style but shaped like a triangle, kneeling on the ground and weeping loudly. Pink additions: smell lines, a long dick and balls between his legs, and text that reads 'Oh I am so lonely and I smell bad because my last familiar fell off the roof or some shit'. Dolly: 'Meanwhile on the Staten Island, there was also a pathetic, empty-headed buffoon of a vampire who spent every night crying about how lonely and smelly he was.' Nadja: 'That sounds right.' 1g. Dolly: 'And his beautiful housemate, Nadja-' Nadja: 'That sounds very right!' Dolly: '-kicked him in his ass and said 'Get out of here and don't come dragging your balls over this doorstep without a familiar to take care of you!' The page shows a slightly more detailed drawing of Nadja with full lips and long eyelashes and waves of glorious hair in a big fancy dress, arms and legs held straight out. Nandor, still crying, is crouched over in the foreground as one of her heeled feet kicks him in the butt and sends him flying. Pink additions: dick and balls on Nandor and text that reads 'owie my penis', larger boobs, earrings, rings, and fishnet stockings on Nadja and sparkles surrounding her entrance.

2a. A drawing, torn off on the bottom, showing Nandor standing with his arms out and mouth open in an O, hearts in his eyes as he sees Guillermo crouched by a crudely drawn panda with an udder, milking it into a bucket. Pink additions: Nandor's dick standing at attention, surrounded by hearts; Guillermo surrounded by stink lines and hearts. Dolly narrates: 'So the sad vampire went to the Panda Bread and found the delicious virgin. The vampire wanted to eat him immediately! But he had promised Nadja to bring back a familiar.' 2b. A drawing, torn off at the top, showing a series of Guillermos working: holding a loaf of fresh bread, sweeping the floor, and dusting the wall with his back to the viewer. Nandor stands nearby, pointing a finger in the air with a big grin as he gets an idea. Pink additions: stink lines and hearts around Guillermo, buttcheeks on the dusting Guillermo, Nandor's dick pointing straight up. Dolly's voiceover continues: 'And though he noticed that the virgin worked very hard, he smelled much too yummy-scrummy to bring home alive. So the vampire did the only thing he could do...' 2c. Briefly back in reality, a close up of Dolly smiling and holding up a paper with a single crayon drawing showing a naked Guillermo lying on the floor with his mouth wide open and his legs straight up, Nandor crouched between them. Pink additions: buttcheeks on Nandor, tit and a small dick and balls on Guillermo, text reading 'ooh ahh master' and 'i love you human man'. 2d. Drawing torn at the bottom showing Nandor and Guillermo, now dressed, holding hands and smiling in front of Nadja, who towers over them and gives them a thumbs up. Pink additions: hearts surrounding Nandor and Guillermo, limp dicks on them both, a crown, bat wings, rings, sparkles, bigger boobs, and fishnet stockings on Nadja. Dolly narrates: 'Once his cherry was thoroughly popped, the vampire brought his new familiar home for Nadja's approval.' 2e. Dolly's voiceover continues: 'And then she and her husband fucked all night with no weepy loser to interrupt them!' Drawing, torn at the top, of a naked Laszlo laying on his back on the ground smiling with his arms straight up in a cheer. Nadja, also naked, is straddling him backwards with her arms also up. Pink additions: hearts all around them, crowns and rings for them both, chest hair and tits for laszlo, tits and bush for Nadja along with bat wings, a crude interpretation of their genitals entwined, text by Laszlo reading 'i love my wife', text by Nadja reading 'finally i can be the little spoon'. Dolly's narration concludes with a fancy 'The End.' 2f. Back to reality; repeat of the first panel, wide shot of the foyer with Nadja and Dolly sitting beside each other. Dolly is proudly holding up the final drawing with a smile. Nadja grins at the camera, left elbow braced on the chair arm and idly twirling a blunt pink crayon in the air as she declares, 'Yeah, that was pretty much it. No notes.' /end ID

[kingdomaddiction]

I can’t stop thinking about my Fragmented SQH AU so here I go:

—

Obviously Shang Qinghua is not fine. He tries to be, really. The story is over, his son is finally happy with the love of his life and the world didn’t end. Even his ex-husband (they never got a divorce, Qinghua technically died, does it count as one?) is now free! And his cute and socially awkward King is trying his best to treat him like a friend instead of a servant.

Still, Qinghua yearns.

Sometimes, when no one is looking, he touches his flat stomach and remembers his pregnancy when he lived as Su Xiyan. A strange, lovely feeling to carry someone inside you. Unforgettable. He misses those days, but not so much. Too stressful, always running and hiding in order to protect her little one.

Other days he gets lost in the memories of his life as a washerwoman. Sad, grey days were those. Binghe was her little sunshine, the only reason she kept waking up everyday until her frail body could no more.

He remembers Binghe’s first words, his first steps. He even remembers the things he used to whisper to calm him down after a bad nightmare, kissing his tears away. Back then she used to dream for a better live, hoping to live long enough to see her baby boy grow up and marry someone kind.

He got to see Binghe grow up, yes, but only from afar. Qinghua had to restrain himself many times from killing Shen Qingqiu pre transmigration. Seeing his son cry with no way to comfort him was torture. Or so he thought. Because living right now so close to him and only being victim of his hatred is way worse.

“The traitor.”

“That rat.”

“Pathetic—“

It was too much.

He did deserve it. Qinghua did nothing to stop the stop fate (why was Shen Yuan allowed to change the rules when he was forced to hurt his son?) but it still hurt so much.

So it was no surprise when a few tears rolled down his face after a specially mean comment. A few demons from the court snickered, but Binghe just looks at him with a mixed of confusion and surprise, recognizing the tears as real and not the fake kind Qinghua usually shed around Mobei. He doesn’t feel guilt, because if it isn’t Shizun he does not care, but is still odd to witness.

Shang Qinghua just bows and leaves. He cries the whole way to his rooms. It’s depressing, he knows, but he must endure this. This is his penance, right? Now he must face it.

He tries not to stare at Binghe too much after that or even speak in his presence, but it only draws his attention. Binghe seems to attack him more often as if trying to test something, curious to see his reaction. Why? Qinghua doesn’t know, but it can’t be good. His love for his son does not blind him of his cruelty.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—‘

Why did his little sunshine had to become such a fearful and cruel emperor? Why couldn’t he remain small, and cute and kind? Why in the world did he write that cursed story?

He sighs giving Binghe a quick glance. The young demon looks tense. Qinghua is sure his bad mood is mostly for Shen Qingqiu’s absence, who left a few days ago for serious sect business (yeah, right— you just wanted a break from your clingy husband bro) and hasn’t returned yet. On top of that the last few meetings at court has been terribly stressful. So many demons playing mind games can be exhausting.

Qinghua even after feeling hurt by Binghe feels the need to comfort him. To tell him his doing great and will find a solution. What can he say? The love of a mother (should he say father? He is currently in man’s body, but he took care of Binghe as a woman—) never fades.

It’s a silly idea, but Qinghua sneaks into the kitchen to prepare a little snack. Steamed millet buns. Very cheap and easy to make. He only needed millet flour (which was even cheaper than rice and widely cultivated in poor areas) and water. If they happen to be lucky enough to have more ingredients available then Qinghua added salt or a bit of onions. It used to be Binghe’s favorite— well, he said “everything mama makes is Bing-Bing favorite!”

Ah, he used to be so cute.

He finishes making the buns and brings him back to the court room. The other demon lords are gone and Binghe looks like he has a migraine. Qinghua approaches carefully trying to be brave.

“Junshang…” he calls softly. Before he can say something more Binghe opens his like he’s searching for something and sniffs the air. Then he finally looks at him, well, the tray in his hands.

“What is that?”

“Ah… steamed millet buns, my lord. I— I made them… for you?” Binghe just keeps staring at him as if he had grown another head. Qinghua clears his throat. “This servant thought Junshang should eat something after a long day.”

Binghe looks at the tray, then at him, then the tray again and he seems like his about to reject the offer. Qinghua holds his breath, already preparing for the burning sensation of rejection. Instead Binghe surprises him by saying:

“Bring it here.”

The peak lord nods and feels so excited he almost trips in his way to the throne. He offers the buns and Binghe stares at them with mild disgust (maybe because his treacherous shishu made them) and after long consideration he finally takes one.

He gives it a sniff before taking a big bite.

Binghe’s eyes open wide and for a brief moment they seem to shine. He keeps eating one after the other and Qinghua feels his heart fill with warmth at the sight remembering when Binghe was 3 years old and tried the buns for the first time.

“I’m glad Junshang enjoyed the buns.” Said the cultivator with a small but honest smile.

Binghe seems to finally realize what he had done and cleans the crumbs with his sleeve.

“Shang… shishu,” Wow, really having a hard time respecting your elders, huh, mister? “… made this on his own?”

“This one did!” He says proudly. “If Junshang desires this servant can always prepare more“ Qinghua offers because he knows his son enough to know he won’t ask for them again even if he loved them.

“… Do as you wish.” Oh, someone has been spending some time with his King. Doesn’t matter.

This is a good sign, right? First positive interaction with his son since forever— oh! Maybe he can prepare him some congee and mantuo next time? Yes! He can’t wait!

…

// Binghe’s angrily eating buns the next day in his room, crying: I miss my mom (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) stupid rat—

[i-cant-sing]

This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your Theodore treat the reader if they were childhood friends

Yesss, but like imagine Theodore being a platonic yandere for his childhood bestie Y/n. He knows you inside out and knows every struggle you've been through, all your secrets, even the ones you've never disclosed to him (yes, he was outside your window on October 12th, 2008 when you didnt come to school because you were "sick" as you had told him but had actually started your period).

Imagine just how overprotective he is, and he's so mean about it too. Its in his nature. He's glaring at you as you tell him that he had no right to beat up your date just because that man had his arm around your waist because you were okay with it. Ofc he just rolls his eyes and tells you that you're too stupid to know what guys are actually like, that you dont know about the "locker room talk" and he's just trying to keep you safe from pervs but ofc youre too "dense" to see it. You could've thought that he might be doing it because he's interested in you like that, but no, he violently cringes at the mere suggestion of your friends that you two fight like a married couple, not to mention how he treats you more like a sibling than your own. Bullying you constantly, messing up your hair, putting you in headlocks as often as he could, kicking the back of your knees to watch you flop on the ground, anything he could do to annoy you.

But he's also very helpful, yknow? He pretends like he couldnt give a rats ass about your existence but will just scoff and yank your assignment from your hands and complete it. Working on your college essay? He reads it, insults you at how stupid it is, then write one for you in one sitting, actually writing about your personal experiences that moves the admission officers to fucking tears at the pure raw emotion it draws out of them. About to leave for a date and you ripped your dress? Signs to you that this is just universe telling you to ditch the guy but then one look at your sad face and he's pulling out an emergency needle kit from his pocket and sewing it up. He'll think of another way to end your date <3

Theodore is also very possessive of you. Even as kids, he would throw sand in other kids eyes just so that theyre too busy crying to approach you and try to play with you. In highschool, he's already built like a transformer and with him having this mean look on his face, people definitely hesitated to approach you, especially when you have this brooding man standing behind you, intimidating everyone who dared to step within 5 feet of you. Now that you two are adults, and Theo is still working as a spy, he would use his skills to take out people that become a little to important to you.

I feel like Theo isn't an animal person, he is definitely not a people person, but he also doesn't care much for pets and it's not even cause his work doesn't allow him to care for pets properly but I still think that he would get a dog trained specifically to keep you out of danger. Or more particularly, keep you in home and bark (and bite/mutilate) anyone who is not him. So if you got a date, make sure he's not picking you up from home.

Definitely definitely finds a way to make you move in with him, if not live next to him. Of course, he has a different place where he keeps his work stuff and gear hidden, but he needs to live with you for his own sanity. And even though he has trackers hidden all over your clothes and belongings, he still likes to ask you where you are, what you're upto, etc, just to see if you'd lie to him. And if you do, be prepared for a very pissed off Theo who is just huffing and puffing all day because how dare you not trust him, your best friend???? Offensive.

But also, when he finds out that someone, anyone made you cry, or even is causing you to stress out, guess who's pulling out their murder gloves?

[kelppsstuff]

All these exorcists looking so serious

How about an exorcist reader who's only stoic when fighting but she's genuinely such a cheerful and positive darling?

":0! GUYS LOOK!!" "Awh, don't be sad, I bet lotsa other angels would like to be with you!" "I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to bump into you while flying babes :(("

- sweetheart anon

“Kisses!”

Summary: Basically just a sweet heart angel who kills sinners and has magical kisses!

Warnings: None I can think of!

F!Reader

Navigation — other works!

❦❦❦

“Ouch! Shit.” I look to my left, catching sight of Ariel clenching her side. I hurried over to her — sitting her down while I called for a medic to rush over. “Oh my gosh — are you okay?” I asked, worry laced in my tone.

“Yeah I’m good Y/N. Just need a stitch.” I felt bad at the sight of her wincing in pain. “Oh you poor thing. Muwah, there all better!” I smiled sweetly at her, kisses always makes things better. “Thank you.” She gave me a sweet smile to — and for a moment I saw her relax.

—

“FUCKING SHIT BALLS!” I looked over to the only man who would have such a vocabulary. Adam.

I walked over to him — giving him a worried glance over. “Are you okay? What happened?” I put my hand on his arm — since he was two tall for me to reach his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m cool or whatever I just stubbed my toe.”

“Awe, I’m so sorry. Muwah.” I used my wings to fly me up enough to give a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s, it’s whatever dude.” I could see the smile he had on his face — or maybe it was a smirk.

More often the not after that — Adam always hurt himself being clumsy when I was around. And every time my kisses made him feel better. They were magical.

—

“I swear if I have another sinner punch me one more time I’m going to lose it.” I sip my boba tea as I watch Lute rub the bruise forming on her cheek.

She had gotten a bit bruised up in this last extermination. I couldn’t help but feel guilty that I wasn’t there to help her.

I leaned over the table and gave a kiss to her cheek. A slight blush formed over her face, I could see her rolling her eyes. Though the slight grin on her face told me she was in a lot better mood.

“You should totally try some of my boba tea!”

—

“How did you get in to this elite group anyway?” Ariel asked, I could tell it was genuine curiosity and not teasing like some others did.

To be honest I couldn’t blame someone for doubting my abilities — but I think people tend to forget that we are in a heaven. Not all of us are killing machines.

“I guess I just passed the exam. I had an opportunity and I took it. It’s worked out for me this far.” Me and her shared a little laugh before I offered her some of my candies.

—

I used my sword to slice off a sinners head quickly, not wanting to draw out his death.

Looking over to my right I saw Ariel get kicked into a wall. I flew quickly to her — helping her up. “I think they broke my rib.” I felt it, and yep she definitely did. “Head over to the portal, I think we’re leaving soon.” My voice was emotionless as I gave her a kiss to her cheek.

I rush after the sinner who ran away. I flew in front of him and he ran down an alley way. “Just you and me.” I spoke out drawing my sword. Before he could make a sound I stabbed him through the mouth and pinned him to the alley wall.

Some of his blood splattered on my face as the life in his eyes died. “Time to pay the piper.”

“Now that, was badass.” I looked over to Adam, and Lute. Adam was clapping, a proud smile on his face while Lute looked away — nervous.

I pulled my sword away from the sinner before running over to the two. “Is the portal open yet? Ariel got hurt.” Wordiness was in my tone — to which Adam grabbed chin, stoping me from talking.

“Sush babe — it’s all under control.”

—

I sighed out as I read over Adam’s report. It was normal he’d come to me with his paper work when Lute was busy.

“What? That’s like the fifth sigh.” I looked up to the first man. To be honest I hadn’t really known I was sighing that much.

“It’s just — I give everybody kisses or blow them ones when they are feeling down.”

Adam sat beside me, “uh huh.” Gesturing for me to continue. “Well it’s just sometimes I wish I could get some kisses when I get hurt or feel down.”

“Muwah.” I looked to my left where Adam was sitting. I smiled as I cached the kiss he blew.

—

“Ariel!” My friend looked over to me, “hm?”

“You’ll never guess what’s been happening over the last few months!” She gave me a confused look, “what’s been happening?”

“So you know Adam right? Our boss? First man? Rockstar?” Ariel gave me a smile, “I think I’ve heard of him.”

“Oh Ariel don’t be silly — you’ve seen him. Did you hit your head?”

“That was sarcasm.”

“Oh.”

…

…

…

“Well? What’s been happening these last few months?” She asked after a long silence.

“Oh right! So you know how I give hugs, or kisses, or make people cakes when they get sad or hurt?” Ariel nodded her head, “one of many things I like about you.”

I smiled at her adorableness. “Well — I told Adam I get sad when no one does that for me and well now every time I’m not in a good mood or I hurt myself he’ll pat my head, or blow me a kiss, or will be really sweet.”

“Adam?!”

“Yeah! Like today I dropped my boba tea and he wrapped his wing around me and gave me his!”

“Aweeeeee.”

—

Lute got up from the chair, cursing loudly when she hit her shin. “Muwah.” She slowly looked over to Adam, and he slowly look up from gutair.

“This never happened.”

His voice was low, and you could see his embarrassment through his mask.

❦❦❦

A/N: it’s been awhile, hi! So I’m not going to be posting daily, or to to much, but I’m going o try and get more stuff out. I’ve been inactive and that’s just because in my opinion I haven’t been writing well — and I don’t want to put out writing I don’t love. I will eventually get to your request, however it won’t be immediate. I’m sorry this is so short and please have a lovely day!

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 5

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 4

---

The next night, after a fabulous, early Christmas dinner, everyone gathered at the hall, having drinks and exchanging gifts with each other. Ellie got you a baking tin, hinting that she might feel sad sometime soon, the tin might come in handy. You laughed and gave her a big hug. You watched as her face lit up at the drawing set you got for her. She hugged you around your middle, and stayed there a while, saying thank you over and over again.

She got Joel a picture frame, a sketch of Callus placed in it. You may have been mistaken, but you swore you might have seen him smile a bit looking at it, before nodding his head at her. He got her an easel, surprising everyone, especially her. She looked so touched and gave him a teary smile. He looked away after nodding at her once more.

Tommy opened the box containing your gift to them, revealing an espresso machine. For the kitchen, you said. Since you all love coffee so much. They all thanked the ‘tea-drinking-Brit’ for the thoughtful gift, saying they can drink really good coffee now, to Mrs Adler’s faux-annoyance. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, happy, and enjoying each other’s company, even Joel, who spent the night talking to the men.

When it was time to go, you said goodbye and bid them a safe journey to their destinations, a flurry of hugs and Merry Christmases filling the room, since everyone was leaving early the next day. You were hitching a ride with Bill and Frank, since you didn’t feel like walking in the snow at night.

“Thank you for the espresso machine.”

Joel was standing in front of the building, his hands in his pocket. You gave him a polite nod.

“I got you something too. I ordered one for you. But it’s not here yet.” He shuffled his foot on the ground, looking at you in small dosage, as if afraid you might zing him if he looked longer. 

You nodded, thanking him for the thought.

“If you need anything while they’re gone, just let me know,” he said hurriedly, as you turned to get into Bill’s truck. “Please don’t let my attitude towards you all this while stop you from asking for my help if you need it, I can be an ass sometimes, but I’m here if you need me.” He looked nervous. Why did he look nervous?

Again, you nodded your head, and bid him good night.

Frank was quiet only a few seconds before launching into detective mode. What did he want? What did he say to you? Did he say it sneeringly? Or was he serious? You remained quiet, rolling your eyes at him whenever he turned around to look at you. When you hugged him goodbye, he whispered to you to give Joel a chance to make amends. He’s a good guy, he promised.

---

Two days before Christmas, you woke up to a text from Joel, telling you he had to go run some errands and would probably not be back until later, and to text him if something went wrong, and he would send someone over. You just texted back an ‘ok’ and went about your day. You cleaned, did laundry, cooked, baked, and were about to get more firewood, when you saw that someone had already stacked more wood on your deck. You had some early lunch, and settled to do a bit of online reading when…

Uh oh.

Now you remember what you forgot to buy.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

No one was here, there were no cars available for you to borrow for a quick trip to town.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Okay, don’t panic. Relax. Call someone.

You remembered Joel’s words.

But then remembered Penny’s words.

Also, the thought of having to call Joel for this made you cringe.

There must be a spare key somewhere, right? At the office?

Shit. The office must be locked. It’s always locked when the family is gone.

Tess. Call Tess.

---

Joel stood in front of the store he had sworn he would never enter again. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast. He prayed with all his might that he would not break down. This was important. He needed to do this. This was not about him. It was vital that he complete this mission.

He had gone to the next town over, about two hours from the ranch to run an errand. He left early, not wanting to leave you alone for long with only a few of his younger staff to keep an eye on the ranch. He was almost back in town, making great time, considering it was not even 1 pm yet, when Tess called, asking for a favor.

So, here he was, heart-a-thumping, standing in front of the store where his beloved daughter lost her life. He could feel his breathing getting harder, his legs felt heavier, his chest tighter, and despite the snow and the low temperature, he felt like he was sweatier than he had ever been in his life. And it was not just the fact that his Sarah took her last breath here, it was also the fact that he had never actually carried out this task alone before, usually, he just stood there with the trolley while Tess or Sarah or Mrs Adler, even his mom did the shopping. What if he screwed it up? He looked at his watch. Shit. He had been standing there for 15 minutes.

Deep breaths Joel. Deep breaths. Just go in and be done with it. Run if you thought that would make it easier.

So, he did. He took a deep breath, stepped inside, grabbed a basket and ran.

Okay, okay, first hurdle done. He got to the aisle. Fuck. Which ones? His head was spinning, his breathing heavy. Maybe from panic, maybe because he hadn’t run that much in forever, or maybe because some ladies were staring at him since he was sure he looked like a panicky, extremely sweaty, crazy person. And maybe because he was in over his head with this task.

Fuck it. He decided to just take one of each and get out of there. He got so many; he ended up having to get another basket. By the time he had finished having an unwanted discussion about plastic bags that the store apparently no longer provided with the cashier - who he was convinced looked at him funny - paid for his purchase, and picked up the three canvas bags he had to buy to save the planet, he was too flustered and relieved that he didn’t even notice the memorial with his daughter’s picture on it. Maybe that was a good thing. That’s a panic he could face another day.

He placed the bags and the item he had picked up during his errand on your doorstep when you didn’t answer the door. He figured you might be asleep, hoping to God you weren’t ignoring him. He drove back home hoping that he had at least made up for one of his screw ups with you, and that you would give him a chance to apologize.

---

You woke up after what felt like hours of sleep, your tummy no longer cramping as badly as it did this afternoon. Thank God for a hot water bottle and modern medication. You looked at your phone and opened a text from Tess. You had called her asking if she had a spare key hidden somewhere to her house. She said Joel had them, but he was out. She’ll call him and get him to send it to you as soon as he got back. Okay, okay, that’s not unreasonable. You could wait a few hours.

Tess: Joel said he left something for you on your doorstep.

Ah, the key, you thought. Good. You opened the door and saw three zipped up canvas bags and a box wrapped in red paper. Frowning, you took them all inside and unzipped the first canvas bag.

It was filled with tampon boxes.

All three canvas bags were filled with tampon boxes. A box of each different brand, and sizes.

You clapped your hand on your mouth. You didn’t know whether to laugh or be mortified. You were going to kill Tess. All you wanted was the spare key to her house so you could borrow some tampons from her. But then you noticed that the bags bore the logo of that store. The store he hadn’t visited since his daughter mercilessly lost her young and innocent life there.

And he went in to get you tampons. One of every single brand available.

An odd feeling stirred in your belly for him.

You took a picture of all the opened canvas bags and sent it to her.

Tess: Oh. My. God.

Tess: Well, at least you won’t run out anytime soon???

You: I’m going to kill you. I asked for your key! Why on earth would you make him go in there and buy them for me?

Tess: Two birds, one stone. You’re welcome.

You chucked the phone on the couch, laughing slightly.

You eyed the box. There was a card on it.

Amelia,

I’m sorry I destroyed your mug. I truly didn’t mean to. Please accept this gift as my sincere apology. I know they will never replace what I’ve broken, but I hope they help make your days better.

p/s: I’m sorry for being a jerk to you all those other times too. Hope I will get the opportunity to work for your forgiveness on those in other ways one day.

Merry Christmas.

Joel.

It was a thermal food and drink container set. From the same brand and color that he accidentally broke. Three lidded mugs of different sizes, a full thermos, a soup container and two food containers.

You gave them a wash and made your first cup of tea in the mug, smiling all the way.

He went into a store he had stayed away from to get you something you desperately needed. He went out of his way to replace a mug he accidentally destroyed. You knew those were not available in town, you had asked. He had to drive hours to get them. But he did, for you.

Maybe Joel Miller wasn’t quite the asshole you thought he was.

You took a picture of your mug of tea and sent it to him.

You: Thank you. You didn’t have to.

You: P/s: apology accepted.

From his living room, Joel smiled at your messages. His body suddenly felt lighter, and he felt as if he could breathe better. He wanted to reply, but what if he seemed too eager? He had just gotten you to actually forgive him for something. Better not push it.

---

You decided to go for a run that next morning. It didn’t snow that night, so the conditions were perfect. You woke up way too early, thanks to the extra-long nap you had when you were cramping yesterday. There was a gravel road that went part way around the property. You timed it. It would take you 40 minutes to run one whole lap. After trying it a few times you managed to run a lap and a half before surrendering and walking the rest of the way home. You put your earphones in and began running.

You loved running during winter, as it turned out, the cold air made you feel less tired. You ran past Bill and Frank’s and made your way all the way round to the entrance before making your way to your cabin again. During your second lap, you got winded just before you got to the main house and slowed your pacing to begin walking.

The door to the main house opened, and Joel walked out. He quickly went down the steps, his head down as he zipped his jacket up, his body turned to walk towards where you just came from. He jumped a little when he saw you, his confident movements from seconds ago suddenly unsure, fumbled, contemplative. His hands immediately went into his pockets. His mouth opened and closed, wanting to say something to you. In truth, he was worried that if he talked to you, you would run. So, he didn’t.

But to you, this was not the same Joel that he was before. This was Joel who helped you out and did something nice for you yesterday, who apologized to you and drove for hours to pick up your much needed thermal mug to do so. Today, being Christmas Eve and all, you decided to be nice. You took off your earphones and walked towards him.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” he answered with relief. “You run? I never noticed.”

Lies. But you didn’t need to know he saw you run past that morning during your first lap. You didn’t need to know he knew you usually try for a second lap. He had seen you run. He knew your running routine.

“Sometimes. Where are you off to?”

“Er… I was going for a walk. That way,” he said nervously, pointing towards where you had just come from. You didn’t need to know he was hoping to accidentally on purpose run into you.

You eyed him, your eyes narrowing, deciding whether or not he’s lying.

“You walk? I’ve never run into you.”

“No… first time.” Shit Joel, lie better.

“Uhuh… too bad you’re just starting your walk then. I was on my way home, I thought of making some breakfast. I thought you could join me, but if you’re busy…”

He looked delighted at your offer. His right hand came out of his pocket, rubbing his neck. “Yeah? Yeah! Sure!”

“Although, I don’t have coffee. You have to bring your own if you’d like some.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Hang on.” He quickly ran back home and came out with an entire can of coffee in his hand, the door slamming behind him.

You started walking towards your cabin, stretching your arms a bit to avoid cooling down too fast. He stopped walking.

“You’re not going to start running again, are you? Cause I lied about going for a walk. I don’t run or go for walks for that matter.”

You laughed and shook your head. He looked relieved as he joined you again, coffee tin jiggling against his cuffs.

“Have you tried the espresso machine?”

“Yeah… it was alright, I guess… I prefer my usual though.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Are you really going to tell me that was not good coffee? It’s your coffee! I just got you the machine! That should just be a more concentrated, better version of your usual cup of Joe, Mr Miller!” you blurted out, faux annoyance on your face, a teasing smile threatening to sneak out. 

He looked a bit stunned at your outburst, but then laughed out loud and admitted defeat. “Okay, okay, it’s good. But it takes too long! I think I’m gonna stick to the old coffee machine.”

You rolled your eyes. Whatever, Grumpus.

He stopped walking. Again.

“What did you just call me?” He stared at you with amused eyes, his mouth wide open in faux disbelief and a half-smile at your audacity.

Oh shit. Did you say that out loud? Your eyes went all round and wide – your lips sucked into your mouth, your dimples showing, and you shook your head wildly, your feet shuffling, ready to run if need be.

“Well?” his hands now on his hips, his weight on his left foot.

“I’m sorry, but let’s see. You’re the man who, in the first five minutes of meeting me, got mad at me for not wanting to get in your truck with you, a stranger, and then rolled your eyes so much when I checked with Tess I’m surprised your irises came back round to the front, THREW my dear old Uncle Benny’s suitcases into the back of your truck, called me a fucking Princess, made me fall on my arse with your stupid rickety door and smirked – you fucking smirked at me for it, and scoffed and harrumphed so much at me you might as well be a horse. So, tell me, what name should I call you, Grumpus?”

He gave you an impressed smile. “Have it your way, Princess,” he conceded, his hands up in surrender when you started towards him for calling you princess again.

The two of you walked side by side towards your cabin. He asked about you, about the farm you grew up in. You asked him about growing up on a ranch like this. By the time you unlocked your front door, most of the awkwardness of talking to old Mr Grumpy was gone.

He rolled the sleeves of his flannel up to help you with breakfast, your insistence that he sit down fell on deaf ears. You made yourself a cup of tea, him making himself a cup of coffee.

When the two of you were finally sitting down on your couch after breakfast, he pointed at the stove.

“You didn’t know how to light that when you first got here, did you?”

You cringed and shook your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged, the cringe on your face still visible, and busied yourself by taking another sip of tea.

“I’m sorry I was an ass. I knew I was being one, but… I don’t know. I couldn’t control it. I’m sorry. You would’ve asked for my help that day if I wasn’t being one. I’m just glad you didn’t get sick.”

“Why were you being such an ass? What did I do?”

He took a deep breath.

“It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong. My ex, Cindy. Sarah’s mom. Sarah was my…” you nodded, giving him an excuse from going down that road. You had a feeling that this right here, this story he was about to tell you, was enough for his mind today.

“Anyway, she hated it here. We met in college. Got pregnant in our last year, I asked her to marry me, she said no. She was not ready. I should’ve known then. Of course, I had always planned to come back here, to help my parents out. She knew this and was initially okay with it. We didn’t know what we were doing, we needed help with Sarah, and we have people here to do that. But after Sarah was born, she just started acting out. She said this place was suffocating her. Sarah and I were suffocating her. I even offered to move to her parent’s farm across the country, thinking she just missed her own family, but she said no. She didn’t want to be an old woman living on a ranch or a farm, she said. She wanted to go to a big city. Live her life. Be free. Glamourous. Be a city girl.”

He took another deep breath, shaking his head a bit, as if recognizing the part he played in her decision to leave.

“Anyway, I heard her complaints, but I thought it was a phase, you know? She grew up on a farm, so I thought she would soon get used to this life here. She didn’t have to do any of the work at the ranch, we agreed that she could get a job in town once Sarah was old enough to go to daycare. The week Sarah turned two months old, she mellowed. She stopped complaining. I honestly thought she was turning a corner. One morning, she said goodbye to me at the door, fed Sarah, bathed her, and then said she was going to the store. She didn’t come back for hours. Next thing we knew, we got a phone call, she was about to board a plane in Jackson. She just left. That morning, when I kissed her before I left for the stables, that was the last time I saw her.”

He looked so forlorn, you wanted to comfort him. But short of giving him a hug, which you were a bit shy to do, you didn’t know how.

“She left for LA. Changed her name, became an actress. The day I picked you up, I saw her on TV at the diner that morning. I haven’t seen her or followed her career or anything, just what I heard from people around. She’s quite successful these days, apparently, I never paid attention. They were interviewing her about some show she was on, and she actually said on national TV that she’s looking forward to being a mother one day.”

God, your blood was boiling when you heard that, you couldn’t imagine what he must have been feeling.

“In my head, I was thinking, you already were a mother. What about Sarah? It was as if she didn’t exist. I don’t care that she doesn’t acknowledge me, but Sarah? No. So, when you came in from LA, it just… triggered me. I’m sorry Amelia. It’s not fair to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked so ashamed of himself. He laid back on the couch, looking exhausted from talking about his ex. You joined him.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, celebrities are not all that. I was dating an actor, this British lad I met while I was at Uni, the sweetest guy in the world, until fame got to him. Cheated on me after ten years together, and now, he’s openly called me a meaningless romance. Fuck that guy. I used to pack his lunch for him because he was so destitute he couldn’t feed himself. But now he’s all famous suddenly I’m a meaningless romance? Fuck him.”

He laughed. Yeah, fuck him.

“Hey, are British guys really as suave and romantic as people make them out to be?”

“Dunno. This douche I dated was definitely not. He would never buy me tampons, that’s for sure. Unlike this American rancher I’ve just met. I now have two years’ worth of tampons, thanks to him!”

He belly-laughed, shaking his head, his face red, looking slightly embarrassed.

The two of you chit-chatted a bit, he told you about his Christmases with Sarah, you told him about yours and Benny’s. You both talked about your traditions, presents, food, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to each other.

And then asked you what your plans were for that evening.

“Er… Netflix and Ramen?”

He smiled, licked his lips and asked, his nerves showing.

“Will you come to town with me this evening? They light the Christmas tree tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah? Okay! Uh… I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Okay.”

His smile literally lit up the room. He got up and made his way to the door. He reminded you to dress warmly, and that he’ll see you soon. He was about to walk out when you realized something.

“Mr Miller, your coffee,” you said, going to the kitchen to get it for him.

“It’s Joel. Leave it here. For next time,” he said, before turning and walking away, a huge smile on his face.

Your cheeks warmed at the implication.

5pm couldn’t come soon enough.

---

Part 6

[leezlelatch]

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 

Fuck it. 

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 

“Are you preaching?” 

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question. 

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 

“Victor,” you answer immediately. 

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?” 

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 

“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?” 

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 

“I already told you that-” 

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

[l0velybvnny]

a dreams end.

summary: after the whole showdown with sukuna itadori reveals gojo left the four of you letters.

“gojo-sensei left us letters y/n-sensei!” the pink haired boy says, running over to where she, kugisaki and megumi are sitting.

looking over at latter boy, a content smile can be seen on y/n face as she stares at him— resisting the urge to caress his cheek like she would when he was younger. after the whole battle against sukuna she thought she wouldn’t see the boy ever again.

“sensei?” nobara calls, shaking her shoulder lightly trying to get her snap out whatever daze she’s in.

“yes, sorry. got lost in thought for a moment.”

she says shaking imaginary crumbs of her blouse, giving the children an easy smile. “did satoru leave me a letter, aswell?”

“well yeah! it’s fairy obvious which one yours is.” itadori mumbles, giving out the dedicated letters out.

*looking down, she’s notes how indeed obvious which letter is hers, a tall chibi figure of a white haired man, with obnoxiously blue eyes is standing beside some who obviously resembles herself.

“haha.. how silly.” y/n finds herself mumbling, rubbing her finger gently over the drawing before looking up and noticing how the children have already tore into theirs.

shrugging she opens her own, ever so gently before seeing a small paragraph written.

“hi baby, i’m writing this incase something happens to me. i love you, sweets. really, i’m about to go up against sukuna and i can’t help but feel something, i think i’m a tad worried i’ll lose but i know my students are bound to win for me if i don’t. i had always thought, deep down that you’d leave me, like suguru. weither you died not because you’re weak tho, or saw things the way he did, realizing your own life isn’t worth risking over people who dont have a clue about what we’re doing. i never thought i’d think i’d be leaving you first. anyways, i’m grateful for everything, for the fact you stayed and everything you’ve done for me. i love ya, sweetheart :3.

p.s i was the one who stole your kifuku back then <3 !!!

not noticing the chuckles around her, or even megumi has the biggest smile you’ve ever possibly could’ve seen fat hot tears roll down y/n’s cheeks, holding onto the letting she ducks her head down, keeping in her small sounds.

slowly quieting down, the students notice the small gasps coming from their teacher. “sensei?” megumi calls out to her gently, turning to look at the others when he gets no response.

“oh satoru..” y/n mumbles, a small sad smile on her lips as she clutches the letter.

[alaydabug2]

Yeah so I decided to take a happy song and make it sad again 🙂

Enjoy ☺️

(Keefe pov)

"Come on," Ro groaned. "Are you really not going to tell her?"

"No! Stop bugging me." Keefe turned around in his chair. "She's with Fitz. She's happy. If she wants him, who am I to tell her otherwise?"

"Don't you think you should at least let her know that she has another option."

"No. I'm not going to do that to her. That's going to complicate things, and I can't lose her."

Keefe sighed and went back to trying to draw the scene he was working on. It was when he had pranked his father the other day, covering him with goo.

"You've already lost her," Ro muttered. "She's with Captain Perfect."

"Ok and? That's none of my business. I need to stay out of it."

She rolled her eyes and stalked off.

-------------------------------

"I can't believe it!" Keefe faked his smile. "I'm proud of you, dude. Finally manned up and proposed."

The war was over. It had been for quite a few years now. Sophie and Fitz had stayed together through it all. He didn't want his friends to hurt, but that small, extremely selfish part of him hoped that they'd break up. Give one more chance for him to shoot his shot. It never came.

"Thanks." Fitz's grin was so elated and genuine, Keefe felt awful for being jealous. Not that he'd ever tell him that.

He was happy for his friends. He truly was. But the emotional turmoil in his heart...

But... he was too late. And he knew that. The only thing he could do now was grit his teeth through it all and pretend he didn't feel his heart breaking apart every time he saw them together. Keep his tears in until he was safe in his room and cry himself to sleep.

It was torture. But he could do it. He'd been doing it for fifteen years at that point.

No, he couldn't....

-------------------------------

Day of the wedding came. Ro had come to visit for it. Instead of the gloating he was expecting for never saying anything, there was a soft look on her face.

"You alright?" She asked.

Keefe shrugged. He adjusted his tie. "I'm ok," he lied.

"No, you're not."

"I'm happy for them," he insisted.

"That's not what I asked." She moved closer. "I asked if you were alright."

He cleared the thickness from his throat. "I have to be. I'm the best man."

Ro pursed her lips. She let out a sigh. "Ok, then. If you say so."

He played off the water in his eyes during the ceremony as tears of joy. They were anything but. He forced his lips into a smile. He had to make it through the ceremony. He couldn't have a breakdown at his best friend's wedding over the girl he was marrying because he loved her.

Gosh, he loved her. It physically hurt to watch. A constant beating to his heartstrings.

Then, it was announced for the bride and groom to kiss. Oh, he couldn't watch. It made him feel sick.

He had to, though. Had to pretend it was all alright. Cause he couldn't let all that hard work of pretending for years go down the drain. Two very important friendships depended on it.

He still couldn't stomach it, though.

The reception was next. He found a quiet table to sit at far off in the corner. In the distance, Sophie and Fitz were having their first dance. He could feel the waves of joy coming off of Sophie from where he was sitting.

They were happy.

That's what he had to keep reminding himself to keep him sane. They were happy.

He picked one of the dandelions out of the vase on the table. He gently blew on it. He stopped himself when he was about to make his wish.

For so many years, he would wish for Sophie to miraculously change her mind. But... that ship had sailed. It was hopeless now.

Instead, he wished he could get over his feelings. But he knew there was no hope for that either.

He could feel his composure breaking. A stray tear fell down his cheek. He smudged it away and fled to the bathroom.

He could only make it to lock himself in a stall before breaking out into heavy sobs.

All hope was gone. The girl he loved was with his best friend and he couldn't do anything to change that.

[harlowsbby]

i have a request where reader who’s a singer and jack are dating but he’s never affectionate to her and he never spends time with her so he’s always spending his time at clubs and strip clubs but he never really cheats and his friends are always telling him he has the best girl he can find but he’s too blind to see how good he really has it with her but she breaks up with him and months after the break up she comes out with the song “Not another love song” by mariah the scientist and jack realizes he misses her more than ever but she over him already and chooses herself in the end🫶🏼

Keep you in mind

( I kinda switched it up if you don’t mind )

He never deserved you he never did, that’s what everyone ever told you or that’s what you read online through the blogs and other social media platforms.

You thought Jack loved you and adored you and treasured what the two of you had but in reality he didn’t, he could care less about you and every single thing he lied and hid about all eventually came to the light.

Whenever you looked at Jack you saw someone who could do no wrong you painted this image that he was the man of your dreams but he was far from it.

————————————————————————

Rolling over in your shared bed with Jack you smiled seeing him fast asleep, some mornings you’d wake up before him and just watch him sleep.

You loved admiring him he always looked so peaceful and at ease. Most of the time he was running around and doing who knows what. You caressed his chest softly, drawing random shapes on his bare chest and watching his chest rise and fall.

“You know if you’re gonna watch me sleep baby at least don’t be creepy with it.” Jack spoke causing to jump slightly not expecting for him to be awake. “How long have you been awake for?”

He opened his right one and looked at you with a smirk displayed on his lips. “I’d say long enough to know that you definitely do fart.” He laughed while you hid your face in his chest from embarrassment.

“Don’t be all embarrassed now I heard you loud and clear.” “Jack stop that’s embarrassing!” You yelled and lifted your head from his chest. “It was cute baby and it’s normal so stop hiding it.” He joked but you rolled your eyes and went to lean back into his touch but he quickly got up.

You frowned and sighed he never really showed you any type of affection so you were never really fazed by it but sometimes it did get to you. Especially late night at the clubs Neelam or your friend Chloe would be snuggled up to their men while you’d be shivering, cleaning on the club wall waiting for the Uber to arrive while Jack talked and took pictures with fans.

“So, what are we doing today? I was thinking maybe drive around and get some coffee and just have lunch somewhere.” You watched Jack grab his toothbrush and start brushing his teeth.

“Or we can just go see Clay and Urban we haven’t seen them in a few days.” Once he finished brushing his teeth he came out the bathroom. “Actually babe I have to go to the studio for a few hours and then I have to fly off to Vegas for that club appearance.”

“When will you be home then?” You watched with sad eyes as he grabbed his suitcase and packed a few outfits and some of his essentials. “I’m not really sure baby but don’t wait up okay? I’ll be back pretty late.” He walked over to you and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before grabbing his things and leaving.

“Well I guess it’s just me.” Mumbling to yourself before flopping back into the bed. Sometimes you wish you’d talk to Jack and tell him how you really felt but you knew that would result into an argument.

Maybe he’d change eventually but that’s something that you’re constantly telling yourself but the reality of it was that he wasn’t changing and wasn’t planning on it.

————————————————————————

“Jack you’re a fool man.” “He really is if I had a women like Y/N waiting on me at home I’d never be outside.” Jack was laid up at the club he had just finished his performance and decided to stay for a bit longer instead of just going right back home.

“Are you all still going on about Y/N? I promise you all she’s fine and she isn’t going anywhere.” Jack knew that for a fact, you were stuck on him like glue and no matter how absent he was in this relationship he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

“How do you know that? Maybe one day she’ll wake up and get tired of all your late night adventures.” Clay was right and even though Jack was his brother he considered you family and he hated the way his brother was so absent in your relationship.

You loved affection and receiving as well as giving love and affection you hated the way it felt so one sided, even on days that Jack was home he wasn’t really home. He’d be done somewhere or upstairs sleeping the day away. He’d be sleep and you’d be awake and when you’re sleeping he’s awake.

You always had to contribute to his lack of effort and you knew it was best the two of you went your separate ways, your heart was wanting and needing more but your heart belonged to Jack.

“Why are you putting all of this negative energy in the air? It’s like you all want her to leave.” It got quiet everyone took sips from their drinks not really having a response. “So it’s like that? When I wanna do me it’s an issue?” Jack was now getting defensive not because he was mad but because he knew everything they were saying was true.

“We’re not saying that but maybe loving someone else just isn’t for you right now, Y/N deserves someone who’s physically there and locked in just like her. She doesn’t need an absent partner.” With that everyone walked away from the booth leaving Jack alone.

He was no longer in the mood to party the only thing on his mind right now was you.

————————————————————————

“This is a really depressing song don’t you think?” Your manger and friend Kira all came over that night, the three of you were going over which song would be your latest single for your upcoming album.

“It’s depressing yes but it speaks volumes.” You expressed and went and played back your song ‘Not A Love Song’. Kira and Alex bopped along to the song.

“What’s the meaning behind this song?” Alex looked up at you. “Basically it’s just about a women feeling as if her partner isn’t putting enough effort and that she’s always filling up the empty pieces in their relationship.” Alex watched you intensely. “How did this song come about?”

“Alex, come on let’s just go over the cover art.” You went to take the laptop from her but she pulled it back. “Y/N.” She said in a threatening tone, you sighed there was no use of lying. “Jack was the inspiration, we just well he doesn’t spend time with me anymore I feel like I’m the only one trying.”

“Have you talked about this with him?” Kira took your hand and rubbed smoothing circles on the back of your hand. “No what’s the point he won’t listen he’s always out and on the road and honestly I just can’t.” You stopped yourself.

“Can’t what babe?” With quivering lips you looked up at the both of them. “I can’t.. I can’t do this anymore I need to choose me because in the end it’ll only be me.”

————————————————————————-

Jack was on his way back home after Nemo pulled him to the side and talked to him about how the way he was treating you he had to admit he was wrong.

He loved you dearly and truly and didn’t want things to end between the two of you. He tried texting and calling a few times but never got an answer from you.

“She’s probably sleeping in I saw on Alex’s story that they were up late at some bar.” It was true you were all at a bar but only because you were attempting to drink your pain and emotions away.

“Yeah she probably is, I hope she likes the flowers I got her and honestly I hope she hears me out.” Nemo shrugged his shoulders, “I hope she does man.”

When they pulled up to the driveway Jack thanked Nemo for giving him a ride. He was nervous but just prayed that everything will go smooth.

Upon opening the front door he was met with a cold breeze making him shiver. “Baby? Are you up, why is it so cold.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up from the coldness. “Babe?” He slowly made his way upstairs.

“Y/N, are you fucking around with me or what.” He grinned but the grin quickly faded when he saw not only the somewhat empty bedroom but the empty closet ad well and a note attached to his side of the bed.

Dear Jack

- you know I’ll always love you and support you but I think it’s time we start loving one another a few feet apart. Lately I’ve been feeling like this relationship is one sided and a break might be needed and hopefully when the time is right we’ll reunite.

- Love Y/N.

“So she really left me.” He mumbled to himself and flopped down on the mattress. He felt defeated like he let not only you down but what the two of you had. Maybe the two of you didn’t deserve a love but instead a poem that described how everything went wrong.

[steveshairychest]

Strawberry Kisses

(For @steddie-week day 2 :] Bittersweet/Angst)

"I can't stay here anymore." The words taste like ash in Eddie's mouth and he takes a swig of the beer they're sharing to wash it down.

Steve doesn't say anything, he just nods and nods and nods and when the tears slip from his eyes and roll down his cheeks, Eddie has to grip the bottle tighter in his hands to stop himself from reaching out, stop himself from comforting Steve and wiping his tears away.

"You don't want me to come with you, do you?" Steve's voice cracks as he finally meets Eddie's eyes, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

It hurts. It hurts so much because it's not what he wants. Eddie wants to take Steve with him and show him the world, but he knows he has to do this for himself. He needs to start over. He feels stuck. He needs to figure out who he is, and he needs to do it on his own.

And Steve knows this. He's seen it in the way Eddie's been stashing money away and slowly cleaning out his room. Seen it in the way he's started drawing away from Steve. He was waiting for it to come, waiting for Eddie to man up and just tell him. And even though he knew it was coming, it still felt like Eddie had reached into his chest and crushed what remained of his already bruised heart.

"I need - " Eddie starts but Steve cuts him off.

"You don't need to explain anything to me. Just tell me when you're going." He tries to smile, tries to pretend that he's happy for Eddie, but the wobble of his bottom lip gives him away.

Eddie sighs and puts the nearly empty beer down beside him; they're sitting on the couch on the front porch of the trailer, their knees pressed close together. He'll miss this. He looks over at Steve, who runs a shaky hand through his hair while breathing out slowly. He'll miss Steve.

"Tomorrow." Eddie says softly.

Steve crumbles. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands to try and muffle his broken sob. Eddie lifts his hand to rub soothing circles on Steve's back but pulls it back at the last minute. He'll just make things worse. He needs Steve to hate him. Needs Steve to yell and scream at him to make leaving easier.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." The broken wails tearing from Steve's lips cause Eddie to bite his lip and swallow back his own sobs. "Steve, I-I'm sorry." When Steve lifts his head and meets Eddie's gaze with his red, puffy eyes, Eddie can't stop the tears anymore. "I'm sorry." He says again because he doesn't know what else to say.

He knows what he's done is awful. He should have told Steve weeks ago when he first decided he was going to leave Hawkins. He should have given Steve time.

Time to forget him. Time for Steve to move on so that when Eddie packed up his van and drove away, he wouldn't be standing in the driveway crying.

They don't talk for a while. They sit in the afternoon sun sniffling and wiping away any remaining tears. They lean heavily against each other; Steve's head on Eddie's shoulder and Eddie's cheek pressed against the top of Steve's head.

"It was fun while it lasted." Steve says quietly, his hands fiddling with the rip in Eddie's jeans.

Eddie laughs softly, new tears pooling in his eyes as the reality that this is over, this is it, hits him. "It was fun, really fun."

"Do you remember when we got kicked out of that diner?" Steve moves in closer to Eddie so that they are pressed as close as possible. It almost feels normal, almost feels like nothing has changed. The way Steve's hand shakes as he pulls at the loose string on Eddie's jeans reminds Eddie that everything has changed. And it's his fault. "You laughed so hard, you spilled both of our milkshakes and then you stole all the paper towels from the bathroom to try and clean it up, but you just spread the mess around."

Eddie laughs, really laughs. The movement jostles Steve and causes him to sit up, there's a small, sad smile on his lips as he says, "I remember we got home afterwards and our clothes were covered in strawberry milkshake and you said you were sorry for ruining our date. But I didn't care because I hadn't laughed that hard in years. I think about that first date every time I eat anything strawberry flavoured."

"And I'll still remember and cherish the memory when you go." The smile Steve gives him is bittersweet, and Eddie can't stop himself anymore. He reaches out and pulls Steve into a soft but desperate kiss that tastes like the salt from their tears and the strawberry milkshake from their first date.

[usernameforaboredcat]

Wasn’t Fated To Succeed

{Spy Ace X Marine Reader}

(I thought of this idea from a manga side story where Ace breaks into a Marine headquarters and fucks around n thought “hey, I can make sum angst with this shit🤷🏻‍♀️” so tehe like look at him!!

He’s such a silly goofy guy I love this mf so much!! Anyway-

Warnings⚠️: Angst, very sad angst, smut, p in v, virginity loss, use of nicknames "princess" "sweetheart" "good girl" ect, fingering, groping, very very slow burn, like this might take a while to read, death, daddy isn’t the best lol

It didn’t take long for him to notice her.

Who?

That young woman maybe a year or two younger than him, sitting at the large table, leaning comfortably in her chair with her arms and legs crossed with an annoyed and tired scowl on her face. Whist on his infiltration mission, Ace got dragged into a Marine meeting. He was more in the back, hiding himself to stay unnoticed while listening in.

Something about her was trying to telling him something he couldn’t hear, and he was trying desperately to make out what it was. To be fair he had been listening to everything, making as many mental notes as possible.

“What about that Straw Hat kid?!”. His ears perked up. “That punk has caused enough trouble as is!”. A loud disgusted “uhg” echoes through the room, drawing all eyes to that girl. She’s wearing a white low cut sailor dress with a beautiful pink flower in her hair. “Is there something you’d like to say?”. She gets asked, the man talking in an angry tone. “First of all I don’t quite appreciate that tone of yours when talking to me”. She starts, her eyes like daggers.

Ace felt a shiver run down his spine, her cold tone freezing the temperature of the whole room. “And second I don’t think that child should be a problem of ours”. She leans forward in her seat, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her laces together fingers. “He is a child, gentlemen. Us marines should be adult enough to not get too affected by him”. She finishes. “But miss! Haven’t you heard all the trouble he’s started! Lougetown! Alabasta! Water 7!?”. A man yells.

The girl rolls her eyes dramatically at his words. “Please, I quite frankly think we have much higher risks and problems than him! And even if we did follow through with his antics and arrest him, what exactly do we do? There’s no laws regarding child pirates so what? Do we execute a child? Just like how if a grown ass man committed theft we just give him a smack on the ass like a child who stole a cookie from grandmas kitchen?”. She questions.

The room goes silent, no one knowing how to respond or even daring to respond. Something switched in Aces mind, something that felt weird and funny and new. Seeing such a ice cold girl with a burning fire of true justice set his heart ablaze. She wasn’t wrong, there aren’t any laws about punishment for pirates under the age of 18. He couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

The girl stands up from her seat, resting her hand on her hip. “Now, personally I think we have more important things to deal with at the moment! Send a team out on a patrol of the city and see if there are actual problems we should take care of, report them back to me by the end of the day”. She explains as she starts to make her way to the door. “And if I find out that there’s been an incident that hasn’t been reported to me I’ll make sure to serve you at the next hot pot in the hot pot”. She threatens, then exits the room.

The room bursts into whispers and murmurs. The room started to clear out, the meeting ending basic after the girl had left. As Ace starts to make his way out, he hears whispers about her. “I don’t get why she’s here”. “Bitch really think she’s the boss of us”. “Hey! Don’t say that!”. “Why? Scared her daddy will kill you?”. “Yes!”. So her dad has a lot of power in the Marines then. Interesting.

The room had emptied, the halls slowly emptying with people heading off to their jobs. With not real job, Ace scrambles down the hall and walks into a random room. He sighs as he closes the door, the click of a sword being unsheathed makes him freeze. ‘Oh fuck’. He slowly turns around, seeing the girl from before standing behind her desk holding her swords handle in her dominant hand ready to pull out. “You’re not supposed to be in here”. She tells him. “Why are you here? And what’s your rank?”. She asks him.

He straightens up and chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that what you said back there was cool! A real sense of justice, I’ve never seen something like that from a marine”. He admits to her. “I see”. She mutters. She clicks her sword back into place and makes her way over to the little kitchen in the office, opening a cupboard. “Care for a coffee?”. She asks without looking at him. “No thanks, not a fan of bitter stuff”. He answers.

She nods. “Very well”. She only takes out one mug. “Tell me, are you new to the marines? With your wording ‘I’ve never seen something like that from a marine’ implies that you haven’t seen a lot of marines talk or any meetings”. She explains as she puts coffee grounds and sugar in her mug. “Yep! I haven’t been here too long!”. He answers. Technically he’s not wrong. “Tell me then, how are you finding the marines?”. She asks. “Definitely not annoying and sick of people telling me what to do”. He explains in a chuckle.

She lets out a small chuckle as she fills her mug with milk. “I can’t imagine having to listen to marine would be easy for someone like you”. She states as she stirs the milk. “Especially for someone like you, Fire Fist Ace”. She adds. Aces eyes widen, but he gets back his cool demeanour and tilts his marine cap up as if it’s his classic hat, his finger alit. “Guess it was only a matter of time before someone figured me out”. He chuckles.

She lets out a chuckle again, walking over to the kettle. “It only took me a second. Unlike my colleagues I’m good with faces. As soon as you walked in I was able to recognise your face”. She explains as she fills up the kettle with water and set it on the stove. “However I do not wish to report you or arrest you”. She adds. She tries to turn the stove on, but it’s refuses to turn on.

She lets out an annoyed sigh, turning back to the pirate. “Mind giving me a hand?”. She asks, her voice in a more softer tone. “Uh…sure!”. He agrees happily, walking over to her. He places his hand on the kettle and sets his hand on fire, the kettle slowly starting to boil. “So…how come you’re not gonna report or arrest me?”. He asks her. “Because I hate the marines”. She blatantly states.

The kettle quickly starts to whistle causing Ace to move his hand away, the girl grabbing the kettle by the handle and filling up her mug. “I’ve always hated the marines”. She walks towards her desk, taking a seat. She gestures him to take a seat in the chair across from her, which he does. “Ever since a young age we’re all taught the black and white of marines good and pirates bad, however those with a brain can tell you that it’s mixed. I’m only young but I’ve seen good pirates and bad marines”. She explains.

She leans back in her seat and takes a sip of her drink. “For example…That Straw Hat Luffy”. Aces eyes widened. “I had been keeping an eye of what’s been happening in Alabasta for a few months now but because of our affiliations with Sir Crocodile the marines never did a thing. I felt terrible, for the king, Princess Vivi, and their people! I honestly thought that Sir Crocodile was going to distort that poor country, until I heard that Straw Hat arrived and was able to take care of it. I’m honestly surprised someone just a year younger than me was able to take him down, colour me impressed”. She explains.

Ace let’s out a chuckle as he leans back in his chair, arms propped behind his head. “That’s my little brother for ya! He’s full of surprises!”. He laughs loudly. “You’re joking! You and Straw Hat are brothers?!”. She yells out in shock, almost dropping her cup. “Nope, Luffy’s my baby brother”. He confirms. “Hm, you learn something new everyday I guess”. She mutters. “So if you hate marines so much, why become one?”. Ace asks her. “Because like hell I’d let the corrupted marines stay in power and continue to ruin the world government. I’m just waiting for the day the head admirals kick the bucket and I’ll take over! With them gone, I’ll finally be able to fix this twisted government up”. She explains to him.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question”. She sets her coffee mug down on the table, crossing her legs and setting her hands down on her knee. “Why are you here?”. She asks. “Simple! I’m here to gather information, is there anything else to it?”. He responds. “Well if that’s the case”. She takes a key out her pocket, opening a filing draw at her desk. She grabs a note pad and a pen, sliding it over to Ace. “What would you like to know?”. She asks him with a growing smirk, Ace smirking and chuckling in response as he takes the note pad. “Whatever you know”.

~

Ace had been around the marine base for over a week now, working as a small team with a very powerful woman in the marine world. (Y/n). That’s the name she told him, he trusts that it’s her real name and not a name she’s giving him just to play with him. They where a team of people from two worlds. Ace had thought she would have outed him by now, but instead she’d always vouch for him if he was ever in trouble and let him sleep in her office. In his eyes she’s truely an amazing person.

~

The room was quiet, the faint light of a candle lighting up the desk enough for the woman to work. She lets out a sigh as she finishes reading the last of the reports, crossing her arms and laying them on the desk to use them as a pillow. The door to her office opens without a knock, she knows who it is. “Hey hey! There’s my favourite marine!”. She giggles to herself and she looks up, seeing Ace closing the door behind himself. “Evening Ace, how was your day?”. She ask him in a soft tired tone. “Ah ya know! Pretty good! Almost got my ass beat today but I in fact was the one who did the beating!”. He says proudly as he walks over and takes a seat across from her.

“I wouldn’t recommend drawing too much attention to yourself”. She says as she look up at him. “I’ll be fine! I have you!”. He responds. She smiles to herself, tilting her head. “I can only do so much you know, have you forgotten the kind of number that’s on your head?”. She tells him, then letting out a yawn. “Hm? You okay?”. He asks her. “Yes yes, just tired from work is all”. She explains. “You want me to leave and let you rest?”. He asks her, concern in his voice. “No no no, it’s good that you’re here. It’s better when you’re here, I feel like I don’t have a stick up my ass”. She explains to him, laying her head back down.

“Aawww, you chill out around me! Aren’t you cuuuuuute”. He coos at her, heat rising to his face. “I mean you’re not a marine, I don’t have to try to impress you”. She admits in a soft tone, looking back up at Ace for him to see her reddening cheeks. “I wish you never have to leave”. She adds, smiling up at him. “It has been fun, but if I stay here any longer it might start to cause you trouble”. He adds to her statement.

“Hey, how about tonight we drink? To a better future!”. He suggests to her. She hums, smiling at the idea. “That sounds quite nice, I approve”. She agrees. “Actually-“. She gets up from her chair, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of fancy expensive alcohol. “I’ve had this since my 18th birthday and I thought now would be a good time to use it”. She explains, grabbing two glass cups. “Wow! Pulling out that good stuff! Very nice very nice”. He responds, his hand on his chin as he rubs it.

“Only the best…for me!”. (Y/n) says happily as she grabs glasses, shrugging. She walks back over to her desk, popping open the bottle and pouring the liquid into the glasses. She takes a seat, the two taking a glass each. “Well, even with this funny predicament…I’ve enjoyed our time together”. (Y/n) admits, swirling the drink then taking a sip. “Why not come with me?”. Ace suddenly asks. (Y/n) looks at him wide eyed. “What?”. She asks simply. “Leave the marines, come join the White Beard Pirates with me! The old man would love ya, take ya in as if you where his own daughter”. He explains to her.

She continues to look at him in shock, then turning to look away from him. “Ace I-… I can’t just leave the marines! It’s all I know, it’s what I’ve grown up with. Besides, if I left the marines to become a pirate my father would for sure kill me”. She explains, the thought of death sending a shiver down her spine. “By the way, who is your father?”. He asks. “He’s a…an Admiral”. She answers, refusing to look at him. “Damn! No wonder everyone is so shit scared of you!”. Ace yelps, almost spitting out his drink.

“Hey! Don’t spit that out! It’s expensive!”. (Y/n) snapped at him. “You never told me that your dad was a fucking Admiral!”. He snaps back. (Y/n) scoffs and rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a father like that, especially a father that kills the innocent despite being a “man of justice”, yeah justice my ass”. She mutters, chugging the rest of the drink. “I’m guessing you don’t know my father then”. Ace chuckles. “Hey, I have a lot of people to do background checks on and to keep track of!”. She defends. Ace let’s out another chuckle, chugging down the rest of his drink. “Ever heard of Gol. D. Roger?”. He asks. “Okay now you’re fucking with me! No way your father is the King of Pirates like 20 years ago!”. She snaps. “Yeah…”. He mutters out. (Y/n) leans over and refills both of their glasses up.

“So tell me lil Roger Jr. What do you think about him?”. She asks, taking a sip of her refilled drink. “I don’t really care, I don’t see him as my father anyway! White Beard is my father and always will be”. He answers. (Y/n) smiles softly as she looks at the older man. “That’s cute”. She admits. “What about you? What do you think about your old man?”. He then asks her. “Ah. I don’t know, he treats me like his own personal army toy. He raised me to be a marine and I never really got to have a life. No friends, no other family, no hobbies, no nothing to me! I never wanted to be a marine or even a pirate, I’d rather just be a normal girl”. She goes on. She sees Ace looking at her with a soft smile, causing her to take another sip of her drink to hide her plush.

“I didn’t mean to go on”. She apologises. “No no no, it’s fine”. Ace reassures her. “I just…never really had the chance to talk to anyone like that”. She hums. “Oh Ace, you have no idea how badly I wish I could go with you. Travel the world, find who I am as a person, meet people of all different…well…everything!”. She rants. “But…I’m stuck here”. She chugs her drink again, quick to fill it up again. “Come on kid, you’re drinking a little too much”. Ace states, getting up from his chair and walks over to take her drink from her. “I’m not a kid! Don’t you dare call me that!”. She snaps, quickly chugging the drink before it can be taken away.

“Maybe we should get you to bed”. Ace says, taking the glass from her and placing it on her desk. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need you to baby me like everyone else!”. She snaps, looking up at him. He chuckles down at her, amused by her cranky face. He reaches and grabs her chin with his thumb and pointer finger. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips against hers. Regret immediately flows through him, but it instantly vanishes when he feels her hands on his cheeks to pull him closer.

He could taste the alcohol on her lips, tasting it more when she opens her mouth to let him slide his tongue in. He pulls away from her, looking down at her to see her big pleading begging eyes and kiss puffy lips. “For a marine you’re absolutely beautiful”. He whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “For a pirate you’re incredibly handsome”. She whispers back loudly. This time, she leans up and kisses him. She pulls him closer by wrapping her arms around his neck, Ace leaning over and easily picking her up to wrap her legs around his waist.

He sits down in her chair, letting the younger girl sit on his lap. She pulls away from Ace, the two panting of the lack of air. Fire, want, and need builds up in their bodies, (Y/n) slowly starting to grind herself over Aces growing length. He chuckles at her neediness, rubbing her hips up and down. “Never in my life would I ever think I’d see a marine be so needy for a pirate”. He chuckles as his hands travel to her thighs and going over her dress.

He uses one hand to move her panties aside and the other running a finger through her wet folds. “Ah! Ace~”. She moans out, grinding against his hand. “Jeez you’re so wet already, it makes me want to take you here and now”. He teases. “Then why don’t you?”. She asks in a giggle, running her hand down his chest to his hardened bulge and rubbing it through his pants. Ace hisses at her actions, causing (Y/n) to giggle as she leans in close to his ear. “Although I’d rather be the one to take you~”. She whispers into his ear, then kissing his ear lobe.

“God!”. Ace let’s out in a loud groan. He grabs her chin again with his spare hand and grabs her chin, pulling her in closer. (Y/n) moans into the kiss, letting out a cry of pleasure as she feels him slide two finger inside her warm wet entrance. She pulls away and whimpers at the new slightly painful feeling, her legs shaking as he slowly drags his fingers in and out. “I just realized…you’re a virgin”. Ace states. “Oh shut up”. She gasps, slamming her lips back on his. Ace picks up the speed of his fingers, using his thumb to rub against her clit.

He pulls away from the kiss, moving his hand from her chin to the low cut neck of her dress. He smirks as he pulls the dress neck down, her boobs sliding out from the motion. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t at least wanna cop one feel of her tits while here. He aggressively grabs her breast and squeezes it, pulling and pinching on the nipple. “A-! Aaaaaace~ please!”. She cries out, needing something more. “Pleeeeease let me feel you inside me!”. She begs. Ace smirks as he lets out a single chuckle, pulling his hands away from her as he goes down to his pants. With ease his undoes his belt buckle, belt and zipper, easily being able to hop with her on top for him to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

(Y/n) feels a shiver go down her spine as she looks down at his erection. He’s so long and thick, probably the first time in her life she’s ever felt intimated. “What’s the matter? Scared?”. Ace chuckles, grabbing the base of his cock. “Quiet!”. She snaps. She puts her hands on his shoulders to use to keep herself stable. She lifts herself up and hovers over his cock, feeling his hot leaking tip against her entrance. “Take it slow princess~”. Ace coos her, his hands back on her hips and rubbing them to comfort her.

She sinks down on his cock, feeling his tip slide inside her aching hole. The aching feeling of need grows stronger and stronger, craving him to fill her up. Without thinking she sinks her whole body onto his cock, his tip slamming painful against her cervix. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”. She cries, feeling as if electricity shock through her body. “Sssshhhhhhit! Ah fuck me! Shit you’re tight”. Ace pants out as he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his cock getting squeezed so tight inside her he could explode inside her already.

He opens his eyes but his vision isn’t the clearest, light headed from the feeling of her insides. He looks at the girl on his lap, seeing her still trying to catch her breath as tears run down her cheeks, a painful grip against his shoulders. He slowly starts to rock her hips, sliding her up and down on his length. Her cries turn onto moans, starting to move her hips on her own. “That’s it, good girl~”. Ace praises, rubbing circles on her hips over her dress.

(Y/n) picks up speed, smoothly bouncing up and down on the pirates cock. Ace happily leans back in the chair, his limit approaching fast at the feeling of her right pussy sucking him in and trying to milk his cock of every single drop of his cum. More. More. He grips her hips tight, getting a tight hold on her and pulling her up and down on him, using her as a toy. A very pretty, very off limits, very hey she’s literally your enemy, toy.

He can’t help but start thrusting his hips up into her as he slams her down, the two meeting half way as Ace oh so desperately tries to chase his fast growing high. He needs to cum. Specifically he needs to cum in this marines perfect tight pussy. A now strong believer in the idea of if he cums in her it’ll make all his dreams come true. Without warning and a hard slam he releases deep inside her, his hot seed filling up her insides. (Y/n) shutters at the feeling of his warmth.

She pants as she tries to get off of him, but Ace slams her back down, drawing a whimper from her when she whimpers. “I don’t think so”. He pants out. He moves his hands under her thighs, swiftly picking her up and laying her on her desk. Ace smirks as he looks down at the marine, seeing her breasts raise up and down with each breath, her pussy still stuffed with his cock as cum starts to leak out the sides. He reaches over and grabs the forgotten bottle of liquor, taking a massive chug of it till the last little remaining drops are gone.

He leans down with each of his hand on either side of her head, her hips trying to move to chase the aching need of release she still hadn’t gotten. “We’ll be here all night until morning, hope you like the shitty coffee they have here cuz you’ll need it”. He tells her as he slowly grabs her ankles and pushes them up to her chest. “A-Ace~”. She whimpers, feeling him so deep inside her he might just be inside her womb. “You’re in for a looooooong night sweetheart~”.

~

The wind was cold, giving a gentle touch every time to touched her face. There’re no clouds in the sky, just a blue ocean above and in front of her. The sound of ringing and feet pattering rush over to the young lady’s sitting spot, some marine in a much lower rank than her running towards her with a transponder snail. “Miss! Your father is calling!”. The man calls. She reaches out and answers it. “Hello father”. She greets him. “Hello (Y/n)”. He responds with his bored gruffed voice. “What is the pleasure I have for you to call me out of the blue?”. She asks. “I wanted to check in that you’ve arrived to the base safely”. He answers. “I’d prefer you’d be here but you made the mistake that lead not to”. He adds. Ah yes, a mistake. A living, growing “mistake”. She runs her free hand over her stomach, only a few month’s pregnant by this point. “I’m sure everything would go smoothly without me, besides I’m not really in the mood to see something like an execution”. She informs him. “Yes, I’m sure”. He agrees. “How long now?”. She asks. “8 hours until that Fire Fist is dead”. He answers.

(Y/n)s grip tightened, her hands shaking. “Mr Akainu! We have to go!”. A voice is heard in the background of the call. “These idiots need me, I’ll be leaving”. And without a goodbye, he hangs up. (Y/n) ends the call on her end, shooing away the marine. She takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, feeling the soft breeze on her face. She starts to hum a random tune as she rubs her stomach, hot tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m afraid your father won’t get to meet you”. She mutters under her breath. “Oh Ace, I’m sorry that this happened…I hope…I hope somehow that brother of yours saves you so I can see you again…and…and you to meet our little one…”.

~

The winds where fast, the breeze smelling like sea salt as music rode along the winds. “CAPTAIN!”. The crew pause their antics, looking towards the navigator. “MARINES APPROACHING!”. He yells. The Captain shoots to the head of the ship, sitting on the lions head. “Do we attack?”. The cyborg asks, getting ready to ready for an attack. “THEYRE WAVING A WHITE FLAG!”. The sniper informs them. “What do we do captain?”. The swordsman asks. Their captain looks at the oncoming ship, laughing. “This could be fun!”. He laughs.

The ship slowly gets closer, the two ships setting down their anchors. The pirates watch as the marines look over their ship to look at them. A young woman walks up to the side, a high ranking woman. Without a second thought she jumps down, easily landing on the ship. The woman is wrapped in a long white cloak, maintaining eye contact with their captain. “You’re Straw Hat Luffy, correct?”. She asks him. “Yeah? So what?”. He asks her. “There’s something I’d like to discuss, is there somewhere more private for us to talk?”. She asks. “Don’t worry, if you’re questioning my intentions your crew mates are free to join which I think you’d rather”. She adds. “Yeah sure, we can talk in the kitchen”. He answers.

He leads her to the kitchen and dining room of the ship, the crew following behind them. “So, what’s up?”. Luffy asks, taking a seat at his spot at the head of the table. “If I remember correctly your older brother was Fire Fist Ace, yes?”. She asks. Luffy shivers, looking at her with murder in his eyes. Why would a marine come to him asking about his brother NOW?! “Yeah, what about it?”. He asks. The woman smiles softly as she takes off her coat hanging around her shoulders, setting it on the table to reveal a sleeping toddler in her arms. A little girl, long black hair with freckles. She looks like… “I know Ace never got the chance to meet her, but I thought her uncle should at least know she exists”. The woman explains.

Luffy looks down at the girl wide eyes, his eyes softening as he looks at her. “Wh-what?”. He stutters out. “WHAT?!?!”. The other crew members yell out, causing the baby to stir and begin to wake up. She looks up at her mum, who sweetly looks at her. “Mama?”. She asks. The woman giggles as she points Luffy to her, the little girl turning to look at him with wide eyes. “Rouge, this is your uncle! You know that stretchy guy that grandpa yells about? Say hi”. She tells the little one. “Hi”. The little girl greets, giving a little wave. “Would you like to hold her?”. (Y/n) asks Luffy. He doesn’t answer, just taking the girl from her arms and holding her close to himself. The other crew members crowd around their captain, looking down at the girl with aws and coos.

“Aawww she’s so adorable!”.

“She’s so pretty!”.

“She sure does look a lot like her daddy”.

“Wow! You’re an uncle!

“Uncle Luffy!!”

(Y/n) takes a seat at the table as the Straw Hats coos and laugh at her daughter. “How old is she?”. Robin asks the mother. “She’s two”. She answers. “She’s so adorable! You and Ace really made the cutest baby I’ve ever seen”. Nami compliments, taking a seat next to the mother. “Thank you! A day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t remind me of her father”. She thanks. “Honestly with how much she looks like her dad I’m surprised there hasn’t been anything in the news about it”. Nami points out. “No one’s figured it out yet, which I’m hoping never happens. If anyone asks about her father I tell them it was a random I had a drunk hook up with at a hotel so I don’t know what he looks like”. She explains. “Hey Marine Lady”. Luffy calls, the mother turning to him. “Yes?”. She responds. “What’s your name?”. He asks. “It’s (Y/n)”. She answers. “And hers?”. He asks, referring to the girl in his arms. “I named her Rouge, after Aces mother”. She answers.

“Luffy, I have a request”. She then starts. “Yeah?”. He responds. “If something happens to me, weather I die in war or I get executed for birthing Aces child, no matter what if anything happens to me…please take care of her. Either she’ll get raised to be a marine soldier like I was or killed as well, I want her to live free and I know you and your friends will teach her the right things. I know you’d be an amazing uncle and teacher for her”. She explains to him. He smiles brightly and nods. “Of course!”. He says happily. His expression changes into a more serious one, but still with a smile.

“If anything happens, I’ll make sure to protect and save her! I won’t make the same mistake again!”.

[formula1fanfiction]

Alex Albon / Carlos Sainz

Title: I want you to feel, like he did

Pairing: Alex Albon / Carlos Sainz

Characters: Alex Albon, Carlos Sainz, George Russell

Prompt: Can you write something that Alex learned how Sainz treat, Russell and punish him. Rough top Alex.

A/N: you can read about George and Carlos here, but you don't have to.

Alex waits in the shadows by Carlos' drivers room until he sees the Spaniard arrive back. Alex is burning with pure rage, he waits for Carlos to go inside, then quickly follows him, nit bothering to knock or wait for permission.

"Alex?" Carlos seems surprised to see him, they don't ever really interact, so the confusion is valid. "What are you doing here?" Carlos follows up, crossing his arms.   

"George, told me about it you know." Carlos smirks, closing the gap between them, so their foreheads are nearly touching. "What's wrong? Sad your little slut has spread his legs for another man?" Carlos laugh, it takes everything inside of Alex, not to punch his stupid face.

"Don't you dare call him a slut." Alex growls back, the smirk on Carlos' face, grows even wider. "The truth hurts, no? Besides what are you going to do about it?"

Alex doesn't know why he does it, but he kisses Carlos' the Spaniard gasps into his mouth, it's such a hard kiss that Alex is sure he can taste blood. Carlos gets over his initial shock and starts to kiss back, his arms wrapping around Alex's neck.

"Oh no, Carlos, you are not the one in charge here." Alex pants, breaking the kiss and pushing his fingers into Carlos' silky hair. Alex kisses him again, this time, pushing his tongue into Carlos' mouth, exploring every inch of him, while sneaking his hand down Carlos' body, over his strong thighs and resting over his hard cock.

"You had no right, he had carpet burns-" Carlos cuts him off. "He wanted it hard, he begged for it." Carlos puts on a mock British accent. "Fuck me harder Carlos-" Alex sees red, and uses the opportunity to grab Carlos' cock though his jeans. "You're hard Carlos, do you want me?" That does knock the smile off Carlos' smug face.

"Who doesn't want a good hard fuck?" Carlos says, while trying to grab Alex's own cock, but his hand is smacked away before he even gets the chance. "I hope you know, you are bottoming this hard fuck."      

Carlos looks taken back and stays quiet for a few moments, then the smile is back again. "Well if he liked it so much, no reason why I wouldn't." Alex' smile becomes shark like. "Just you wait, Carlos." Alex produces a condom and lube from his pocket, he came prepared, knowing Carlos wouldn't say no.

Alex unpops the button on Carlos' jeans, pulling a gasp from his mouth in the process. "You can leave Carlos." Alex takes a step back, meeting his eyes. Carlos shrugs and pushes his jeans and boxer shorts down together, letting his hard cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

"If you think I can't take a cock in my arse, then you've got another thing coming." Alex shrugs. "That's not what I was thinking at all, bend over." Carlos doesn't just folds his arms, he wants Alex to make him. With a shrug, Alex swiftly bends Carlos around and bends him over, he goes surprisingly easy.

Alex pops the cap on the bottle of lube, drawing another shudder from Carlos, he pours a generous amount onto his fingers. Alex circles around the opening for a couple of seconds just to increase the tension, he waits until Carlos relaxes, then unexpectedly slams a finger into him making Carlos cry out in surprise, or pleasure. Alex honestly doesn't care which it is. Alex instantly twists around the single digit then starts to fuck into him with it, opening him up as much as possible with one finger then adding a second digit and slamming into him, with quick and rough finger thrusts. He works up his way to three fingers then, lets them slip out of him.

"I'm not like him, I didn't beg for more.." Alex ignores him, and pushes his own jeans down to his thighs and rolls on the condom. "please just fuck me Carlos, my slutty hole needs you inside of me." Alex knows he's only doing it wind him up, he saw the state of George..

It succeeds, Alex can feel himself filled with rage as he roughly takes Carlos by the hips and sinks inside with one, swift thrust, he doesn't bother to stall and instantly picks up a rough hard pace, he's never been this rough with anyone in his life, Carlos deserves it.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of moaning like a cheap whore, like George did." Alex squeezes Carlos' hips even tighter. "You're the one taking it up the arse Carlos, you have nothing to be smug about." Alex thrusts in extra hard, slamming into Carlos' prostate in the process of it, which does pull a moan from Carlos. "Who doesn't moan like a cheap whore?" Carlos tells him to shut up, Alex ignores him and slams into his prostate over and over again.

Alex squeezes Carlos' hips so hard, there's sure to be bruises left there as he slams into Carlos which as much force as he can muster, slamming into his prostate with every brutal thrust. Carlos' losing it rapidly, as his body is filled with waves and waves of pleasure.

"Touch me Alex, please." Carlos' sounds needy and pathetic and it's music to Alex's ears. "I'm not touching your horrible cock, touch yourself or cum from my cock alone, I don't care." Carlos makes a dissatisfied grunt and wraps his hand around his own cock, stroking himself in time with Alex's thrusts.

Carlos screams as he comes, his who body shudders with it as he spills himself over his own hand. Carlos becomes vice like around him, it soon becomes harder to thrust into his tight channel. He can't take it anymore, his orgasm practically squeezed out of him, he bites down on Carlos' shoulder as he comes, spilling inside of the condom.

Alex leans against the wall panting, after pulling out of Carlos collapses onto the floor. "Aren't you going to thank me?" Carlos pulls himself up off the floor and pulls his boxers and jeans back on.

"No, I don't think I will." Alex pulls his own clothes up and swiftly pulls his own pants and boxers up. He gets out of there as quickly as he can. He only hopes Carlos feels as used as George did.