#did it actually only take me like three days of work to write the chapter. yes.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

About to crawl back to ao3 almost four months late with a 4500 word chapter

[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN 2. little series w/ LEEKNOW + HYUNJIN

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader x lee minho genre + warnings: slight angst wc: 3.5k mina's note: I really enjoyed writing this. Sorry it took a while! This part was was like a filler, I know.

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part one, part three ending one

“You done crying yet or?” Hyunjin jokes after watching over you for the past thirty minutes. He was in the drivers seat handing out countless tissues to you, who was in his passenger’s.

“Hyunjin, stop,” you crack up at his teasing. You were done crying now, you just weren’t done being upset yet. A heavy feeling still lingering around your shoulders as you try your best to block out Minho’s words circulating in your head.

“Are you still not going to tell me what he said to you in the bathroom?” A hand comes to wipe away the last of your tears, his tone gentler now.

Hyunjin can see the marks on your neck, anyone can. He can tell what happened in the bathroom and he knows Minho must’ve said something to overwhelmed you to cry, but he just doesn’t know what exactly.

“I don’t want to re-live it Hyunjin,” you couldn’t tell him. You didn’t want to tell him that you said the L word to Minho within the same month you got rejected by him. Hyunjin could never judge you for that but how can you tell him without telling the whole thing, how it was forced out of you. Dirty? Dirty because of Hyunjin? The words repeats again, haunting you. Hyunjin was involved in Minho’s mean and hurtful words and you feel guilty. Hyunjin did absolutely nothing wrong, he didn’t deserved to be dragged into whatever mess was going on between you and Minho.

“Why? Is it because you might cry again?” He playfully says, not wanting you to feel downhearted at your own actions. He lets out a giggle after observing how you quickly pierced your eyes at him sassily - something you picked up from him. It doesn't matter what situation you're in, Hyunjin always makes it light hearted. He's so playful but in a way where he is still careful and you never fail to warm up to him. Just like this moment.

“I just got my heart broken by the city’s fuckboy, I don’t need the city’s heartbreaker to feed into it,” you chuckle and he follows with furrowed brows, unable to keep a straight face at the names.

“Those names are crazy Y/N,” he remarks.

“I actually don’t think you’re a heartbreaker Hyunjin, it’s just what everyone calls you,” you reassured him, hand finding his to give him a tight squeeze.

"I probably am one," he held yours back tighter, letting you know he didn’t take it to heart. "I'm curious though," he continues .

“Hmm?”

“Curious to why the city’s fuckboy keeps yelling at you,” you eyed him again, arms crossed this time with a fake pout. “Or is it that you’re just a cry baby?” he laughs but he was serious though, he wanted to see why Minho keeps leaving you in tears.

“I’m not a cry baby,” you defend yourself. “You’re probably tired of me crying hey? I know how to smile too!” To be fair, you were kind of a cry baby especially as this is the second time he has picked you up and wiped away your tears, all within a month.

“Wait, can you actually?” he continues.

“I’m actually really sweet Hyunjin, I promise!”

“How about the city’s heartbreaker takes you out one day?” The tension from the incident with Minho start to disappear as Hyunjin slowly soothes it, directing your attention somewhere else - something he is very good at.

“Hmm?” brows furrowed together. His question had taken you by surprise, you were unsure if he was serious. “Like on a date?” You clarified.

“Mhmm,” he confirmed. “So you can show me how sweet you can be and that you’re not just a cry baby.” He already knows how sweet you are. Last couple of weeks you guys spent together talking about everything and nothings have really shown him what type of person you are. You were caring, cheerful, playful. You loved to tease, loves to be teased and takes on jokes like a champ. You were just full of laughter and happiness and meeting someone like you is hard for Hyunjin. It seems that he has developed a soft spot for you, but unlike Minho he isn’t afraid to show you.

You just giggle back, unaware of the thoughts going through Hyunjin’s head, everything falling into silence right after.

Hyunjin is a lovely person and you hate to say yes just to distract yourself from Minho. But Hyunjin has that effect on you, where he has made you forgot about Minho whenever you’re with him. You don’t know how to explain it. Like earlier tonight before all of this, when you went with him to the party, you had zero care for anyone and anything besides Hyunjin and wine. Or like right now, Minho was slowly fading away in your head. If you give him a chance, maybe he’ll be better than Minho. He always was, seeing as he was the one who was here, unlike Minho who didn’t even chase after you.

“Hyune?”

“Hmm?”

“A date with you sounds cool,” your silly smile returning. He couldn’t control his smile back, his eyes turning into thin lines as his upper lips disappears a little showing his white pearlys.

The man who broke your heart an hour ago long forgotten, in moments like this.

+

“You okay hyung?” Han asks, after observing Minho for the past hour just downing his drinks.

“Yeah.. Good.. I’m good.” Minho could barely reply, slurring on his words clearly intoxicated.

“What happened in the bathroom? What did you do to her?” Han was worried about you both. He still doesn't understand what you did to get Minho to push you away like that, especially when Minho would used to reschedule his plans with Han and their friend group just to be with you. It was clear to Han that you guys had something going on. Minho wasn’t much of a drinker too but seeing him suddenly finish all these drinks made Han sense something was up.

“Nothing, I just.. Nothing just shooed her away like usual,” Minho replied, acting uninterested in the conversation.

“Marks on your neck tells me otherwise,” Han replied back, eyeing up at his hyung. Minho doesn’t reply, instead he stays quiet, one hand coming into contact with the marks you left on his skin. His head is in a daze, the scene of you pressing kisses to his neck, how soft your plump lips felt, your tiny hands holding the back of his neck to keep him in place while the other was wrapped around his..

“Hyung? Hey hyung?” Han snaps the older man out of his thoughts, holding him by the shoulder trying to steady him. “She’s a good girl. If you don’t like her don’t do that to her.”

“She gave me the marks Jisung.. I didn’t do anything to her,” Minho huffed, trying to defend himself.

“Sure, it’s not like she didn’t walk out of the bathroom with marks herself,” Minho just rolls his eyes. “If you don’t like her like that, stop hurting her.”

“Looks like you also want to fuck her, seeing as how you’re talking about her-”

“-Just because I feel sorry for her doesn’t mean I want to fuck her, hyung. No girl should be treated like that,”

“Whatever,” Minho pushes the smaller boy’s arms off his shoulders making him stumble back a bit.

“See how you act? You’re a dick. How is it that every other girl gets let off easily when they admit they like you and when Y/N does it she gets yelled at?” Han was over his hyung’s antics, also fuming from the way he was pushed even though he was only trying to help him up.

“Last month you pushed her away then tonight you’re all over her again just because she’s with someone else. You’re so possessive. What did you do to her in the bathroom?!” Han has never called Minho out like this but the way Minho acted was very possessive. It was like he hates seeing other people interested or talk about things that was his. In this instance, you.

“I don’t know,” as much as he hates to admit it, your words engraved itself to his brain. He couldn’t come up with a reason why he treated you the way he did tonight or ever. Just the words I love you bouncing in his head, hitting every surface of his brain. Did he like you back? He’s not in-love with you right? Or was he just possessive over you? Did he want you to himself only? Minho was overwhelmed with his thoughts, unable to voice anything else, eyes just seeking some sort of help from the younger boy.

“You okay hyung?”

“No.”

+

A couple weeks go by and Minho catches himself thinking about you every second pf his day. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. He contacted so many girl just to ghost them before they meet up as he has this feeling of guilt. Not towards the girls, they don’t mean anything to him but guilt towards you. It was like he was doing something wrong to you. But you weren’t even his and he doesn’t even like you back. He has just be constantly in and out, and his friends aren’t any help either. Well to be fair, he’s only been keeping his thoughts to himself so it’s not really his friend’s fault. But you and Hyunjin has been the topic of the week, updates of where you guys went or what you guys did was brought up every single day in conversation.. well ofcourse it would, seeing as how Hyunjin and Minho shares mutual friends.

“You think he really likes her?” Felix asks the others.

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have come with her to the party the other week,” Chan clarified and they nod in agreement.

“Why wonder we haven’t seen him all of last month, he was with Y/N.”

Minho listens to the conversation, quietly contributing and attacking Hyunjin in his head. Yeah but she doesn’t like him. She clearly loves someone else.

“Wasn’t she one of your flings?” Chan’s question wakes Minho up.

“Hmm? Y/N?” Your name comes out more tender than expected from his lips. “I don’t remember,” Minho lies.

“Anyways, I reckon the photo he took of her from earlier this week was cute,” Seungmin says, the rest giggling like high school girls at their friends love life.

“Looks like the heartbreaker Hyunjin found someone he really likes.”

“And Y/N seems to really like him too,” Minho was furious, wanting to tell them what the reality was but even himself wasn’t sure if it was true anymore. Maybe you have fallen for Hyunjin. Maybe you have forgotten all about Minho now.

He looks to his side, watching Felix swipe through Hyunjin’s instagram story. It was the first time he saw you since. You were as pretty as ever. Hair in a half up half down look, in a black dress looking and smiling at Hyunjin’s camera.

Hyunjin had taken you out to one of his favourite bakery and art museum. He had told you to wear something pretty, and be ready by noon. You got dolled up, picking out your most gorgeous dress and by the time he promised, he messaged you to come outside. Hyunjin was lean up against his car, his camera strap across his body, a small bouquet in his hand. It was something you never experienced before, you couldn’t help but smile instantly at the sight. Oh how sweet he was, and definitely very handsome.

“You look like you can be very sweet, Y/N,” he playfully says before pulling you into a hug. You hold him back, arms wrapping around his body pressing your cheeks against his toned chest, staying there a little bit longer than you extended.

“Ready to go?” He asks, and you remove yourself.

“Mhmm, ready to go and ready to show you I can be sweet!” The conversation you had with yourself, a couple days ago still implanted in your head. You will give it a try with Hyunjin. He has always treated you well, despite his title he received from everyone, but a little part of you is afraid. Minho treated you well too, but turned his back on you the second you liked him. You were afraid you were going to fall for it again. Hyunjin could never make you fall for him then ditch you right? But to be honest, has Minho ever picked you up in broad day light like this? No. You guys would sneak around all the time, and was only ever relaxed in a closed off area - that being his house. Minho has never planned a date this. But did your heart wanted that more than this? A unlike tingling heavy feeling fallen in your chest, the feeling is different.

As Felix continues to tap his screen, more images of the date appears. You guys spend a while in the coffee shop just goofing around with each other, then at the art museum.. Oh the art museum.. countless photos of you standing infront of and looking at the art works makes Minho go red.

“Fuck-” Minho bites, fist forming into balls as he feels his blood boiling. Minho was angry now, he was jealous. He didn’t ever show you off like this and was mad someone was able to do.

“Gotta go, gotta go call Bella,” Minho walks out, everyone else looking around trying to seek a reason why he was acting like that.

+

It was dark and late, 9pm to be exact. Silence fill the air as you and Hyunjin both just sit in his car. You shyly glance over to him, unsure of what to do now, he just gives you a smile. You really enjoyed your day with him, it was fun and quite the romantic day. But do you invite him in now? Do you take it slow? What would you do if you invite him in anyways?

"I enjoyed today with you too Hyune," you break the silence. "I'm actually really tried from everything though" you lie, you needed to distant yourself for the rest of the night, to work out what you were feeling. You needed to take it slow. The tingling sensation before was still around you, a feeling you can't explain. "I think I might start ready for bed," you observe his reactions, but there is none. Just him keeping a small smile like earlier.

"We did so much today, I’m tired and ready for bed too," he agrees, one hand reaches over to hold yours. He was so soft, it's like he knows the barrier you had set up. He doesn't questions it and just lets it be.

"Thank you Hyune," you reply, twisting your wrist so your fingers can interlock with his now, giving him some sort of affirmation. You lean in towards him and ahe air grows a bit cold now. You had to do it, to show your gratitude. You continue to move in, giving him a peck to his cheeks. Hyunjin freezes in return, the sudden affection makes him flustered. "Goodnight Hyune." You retracted back your hand, collecting your stuff, along with your nice bouquet of flowers and exiting his car.

It was clear to Hyunjin after the peck that he liked you. He really liked you but he was still unsure of where your feelings stands. Regardless, he wanted to keep trying with you.

+

You were in the middle of the dance floor, to the grand party that Hyunjin asked you to be his date at. Well technically, you were invited by Minho's mum but you can't turn down a cute date with Hyunjin.

“Where are you?” You ask on the phone, eyes searching for a lost Hyunjin. He has disappeared from your sight so suddenly after you guys had spend a hour of drinking the free wine.

“At the table we were before," you can hear him slurring on his words, unable to keep your giggles in at how tipsy he is.

“Okay, coming! Stay where you are," as you turn around someone pulls you back, making you stumble a bit forward into them.

“Can I talk to you?” You encounter a familiar face. Minho was standing in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist not painfully but strong enough for you not to pull back. Your eyes scan his face. He looked so different. He had his hair down covering his forehead, something he never wears out in public. His eyes were coated with a thin cover of gloss, almost looks like he had been draining in his emotions for the longest time ever. Minho looked so soft, you were taken back.

“I gotta go. Hyune’s waiting for me,” you reply trying to pull away from him. You needed to avoid Minho, unsure why but you had too.

“Hyune?”

“Yes, Hyune,” you managed to escape and walked off, only because he loosen his grip. Minho was left on the middle of the dance floor, watching you make your way through the crowd.

“Hyune?” He whispers to himself, confused. A nickname already? Maybe the boys were right.

You don’t know why but a sudden urge to spin around got the best of you.

“Hey Min!” The nickname makes him instantly turn around but he knows it wasn’t going to be you standing there, so he prepared himself for whoever was there.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” he lied to the gorgeous woman infront of him, Bella.

You watch as Minho smile at her, his hand coming in contact with her cheek. You spun around again, not wanting to watch any more of what he got up to, going back to Hyunjin.

+

The music was blaring now and you feel yourself getting light headed from the countless shots and mimosas you consumed. You lean into Hyunjin’s chest, wanting to stay still for a minute to regain control of your body.

Minho doesn't know how he got here but there he stood a couple steps infront of you, watching you with Hyunjin. He has Bella in-front of him holding his hands as she sways to the music, seeking for his attention.

“Hey, I’m losing you here Y/N,” Hyunjin laughs, although him himself was feeling the same thing. He had to control it, he couldn’t let you both loose to alcohol.

“I’m so tired Hyune,” you replied, unable to move your head from his upper chest.

“You wanna go sit down?” He asked, hands coming to your waist to help hold you up. The small contact with your body makes you widen your eyes. You steady yourself back on your heels as you make eye contact with the sweet boy in front you. Your eyes catch his lips for a second, they were so plump, so full and the perfect shade of pink, almost a reddish. A thought ran through your head and you feel guilty about it but you wanted to do it. You want to feel his lips on yours to confirm that feeling that keeps staying around in your chest. His eyes flutter from your eyes to your lips. You looked so pretty like this, your cheeks was pink, eyes looks so bright and full, you were so kissable. Hyunjin slowly leans in, one had holding your face and when he doesn’t see a signal of you avoiding it, he closes the gap between your lips.

Minho’s heart sinks watching Hyunjin kiss you. He has always been possessive of you, hating when your attention is on another person. He has always been annoyed, always been angry but right now, he feels broken, he feels hurt. He didn’t come here with Bella because he liked her. He came here with Bella because he wanted to use her as a distraction. He wanted to use her to get over you. He doesn’t realise it until now, after witnessing the kiss, that since the night you confessed your feelings to him, he felt the same. He felt the same but he was too afraid to say it, to show it. Liking someone was overwhelming, let alone loving someone. Minho was just afraid.

The feeling doesn’t go away, it’s heavy it’s numbing your body. You pull away from Hyunjin’s lips, hands on his chest to help you detach. You can’t keep his eye contact, letting out a heavy breath.

“Hyune, I..” you look up over his shoulder and catches Minho eyes as he towers over Bella. Minho stops to observe you, observing your next move. For a second the world stops, everyone’s face was blurred, the music goes from blaring loud to a long beep, something you hear when your brain restarts similar to the sound in movies when the main character watches someone close to them die. It was only you and Minho.

{Tag list 🏷️@20minsat180dgegrees : @feybin : @whosanaanyway : @k0nst3nceee : @hoes4lino : @ihatewritingshit : @armystay89 : @redstayrosie : @captainchrisstan }

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter ten: part two

“i won’t die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: nothing scary to report here — welcome to your happy ending 💖

word count: 8k

author’s note: cherished ones… i can’t believe we’re finally here at the end 🥲 it’s taken me much longer than anticipated to get this out, but i hope it’s worth the wait. allow me to extend my sincere gratitude to you all for hanging in there and going on this journey with me and this series. this started out as pure self-indulgence and turned into something much more along the way and i hope this is received by you as the gift i intended it to be. they’re not off the album i used as the platform for this series, but feel free to listen to rain and take me back to eden by sleep token, which i listened to A LOT while writing this. thank you again for all of your kindness and support. i truly don’t think i could have finished this without it 💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The last couple days had been… good.

Vaggie had approached you the morning after your little sleepover with Angel to see if you’d actually take her up on the offer of managing the hotel’s books. It was a welcome distraction, easily falling back into the routine of your old work. And honestly, their records keeping system needed a complete overhaul. It kept you busy and focused, hours passing like minutes as you honed in on creating the foundations of your system.

Funny how in Hell the work you had always approached with a level of disdain in life had become something to look forward to. Something that was all yours. It was nice. Familiar.

Ironic.

You also hadn’t gone to the bar — the biggest improvement, or at least the one you were happiest about. Feeling more like yourself again and less like your father, who had been no stranger to bouts of liquored-up sulking. It was not a way you wanted to remember him by, nor make a habit of for the eons to come. And beyond just feeling better without alcohol in your system, it was great to see Husk in a more friendly capacity again. Haunting his bar in the way you did wasn’t something you were ever planning to subject either of you any time soon. 

You were regaining a level of comfortability in your room as well. Sleeping better in your bed, which had been difficult to do. For the first few days you slept on the loveseat, where you’ve now spent the last two nights curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

It was a decent distraction, but thoughts of Alastor still plagued you. Try as you might, it was hard for them not to. He felt so present as you went about your day despite maintaining the separation; feeling his aura hovering around you like a sixth sense. You wanted to ask Husk and Niffty if they felt it like you did — if at all — but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet to do so.

What if they said no?

It was too embarrassing even to think of. The possibility of it being some kind of adverse affect from sleeping with him making your blood rush to your face. 

Maybe I took a piece of him, too… 

The heat on your cheeks intensified at the thought. Isn’t that exactly what had happened?

Sure, in a literal sense he had been the one to take a piece of you. But in return, you had witnessed him in yet another state that no one else — in this building, at least — ever had. Just the fact that he had let you help undress him… That wasn’t something you look lightly, even at the peak of your anger toward him. The nervous way your heart fluttered against your ribs at the memory only further proved the point.

You wanted the opportunity to do it again. Undress him, that is. 

What followed after wasn’t of much consequence; you’d be satisfied just the same. Whether that was helping him out of his day clothes and into pajamas or preparing him to pound you into the mattress — either result was made from the same circumstance. You found you had enjoyed it even more than dressing down his bed for the evening, which had always been a nearly meditative part of your day.

Or, well… it used to be.

Did he even bother with that now? Hell, did he ever? Or was it just more busywork? If it was… you missed it.

Taking care of Alastor was tedious at times but it hadn’t been all bad. He was petulant too, which is probably why he was always deflecting and pointing the finger in your face. But past his venom there was charm. His euphemisms and anecdotes. Grumbling into the newspaper with his ears downcast whenever he came across an unpleasant article, which happened more often than not. 

He enjoyed his coffee black and extra hot, but god forbid if it was burnt. That was one of the first things you had been tasked with perfecting, and mercifully, had been able to accomplish. Alastor never made you handle his food, not out of lack of trust but courtesy. Due to the gruesome reality of what he enjoyed eating, it wasn’t a chore he ever charged you with. And you’d busy yourself with cleaning while he ate to allow him as much privacy as possible. 

As much as he adored the structure of his morning routine, beyond that the day was his for the taking. Living the monotonous life that you had, it was admirable. Sometimes inspiring. He had a mischievous, opportunistic outlook on existence — no doubt a quality that followed him into the afterlife — while you had been (presumably) buried jaded and trepidatious.

He was… fun. Even when he was irritating. 

Before Rosie pawned you off on him, the last time you had ever felt something close to fun was killing your grandmother. A horrifying revelation, but true, though that had more to do with the satisfaction you felt from it than anything. But fun was something that was right at your fingertips with Alastor, when you looked back on the last couple weeks. He had quite the proclivity for antics when he wasn’t being crushed by the weight of his self-imposed grandeur.

The memory of when he brought you back to the alley the day after what you had done came to mind. His inspection of the bag you’d left behind had upset you so much in the moment, but now all you can remember is the glimmer in his eyes. The nearly childlike glee in his fanged smile. Sure, it had been at your expense, but that was how he liked to joke. Satire and whimsy adorned with the pretty bow of his voice and charm.

But his jokes were sometimes too one-sided. His delivery too harsh and actions… demeaning. It wasn’t a facet he aimed at you often but the sting of his cruelty ran deep, almost to the bone. Your hand came up to your throat, the pain in your neck only barely subsided. It had been impossible to tell if the chain had bruised you under all of Alastor’s love bites, but if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way it hadn’t. If even just a little.

You made due with covering yourself up. Managing to find some high-collared button up shirts left to rot in the laundry room. Nothing a good washing wasn’t able to fix. And as the days passed and the marks faded, you were able to transition back into more familiar (and revealing, in comparison) pieces of your wardrobe.

Still, being left to your own devices when Alastor had been the one responsible for not only the marks but ruining the dress that would’ve easily solved your problems with its modesty nicked at you. Not that you had expected gifts after the argument, but considering how he made you wear that dress as uniform there was no way he didn’t have plans to provide a replacement that morning. But it never came. 

Instead he had given you a threat and left you on the floor in nothing but a towel, feeling used and humiliated and alone. And yet here you were, with a book in your hand you hadn’t absorbed the last few pages of because your mind was busy remembering the feeling of removing Alastor’s coat.  

Or how disheveled and boyish he looked the morning you went into his room without permission and found him in bed. The strain in his eyes before you walked into Valentino’s arms. His drawn brows and open, kiss-swollen mouth when he made you his own on the bed right behind you. That face would haunt you for the rest of your afterlife.

But there was another face that earned the honor, too. An expression that eclipsed even your grandmother’s worst sneer. Was what you said to him that morning really so outrageous that it had warranted such wrath and disdain? Alastor had been in quite a decent mood too, before the conversation took a turn. Not that it made you feel any better, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something bigger than that. You had copped attitude before and Alastor had either laughed it off as a mild tantrum or course-corrected you before you even had a chance to realize it.

Beyond that, there were also the things he had done after you fell asleep, face buried in his scarred chest. The medicine he had waiting at the ready for when you inevitably woke up from the ache of his bite, which he had taken the liberty of cleaning and bandaging. He had more than likely done it by hand as well, the same as when he tended to it on your bed that awful morning. No magic, no minions. Despite being the least he could do since he inflicted the wound, that didn’t mean he had to do it himself. But he did.

Your stomach turned thinking about it. The force of his anger just didn’t match up with the efforts he took in caring for you after your entanglement. It was the push and pull you had been battling all week, and your eyes flitted to the door. Going up to his room wasn’t something you had entertained, knowing better than to try and call Alastor’s bluff, but the desire to speak with him now was a temptation you worried you’d lose the battle against. 

Knock.

The single, hollow sound echoing off the door sent a jolt through your body, sitting up from your relaxed position on the small sofa near the fireplace. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Meaning everyone had left the hotel already except for you and…

There’s no way.

Your pulse spiked. 

Maybe you just imagined it. Or the hotel was settling. Things like that could still happen to buildings in the afterlife, right? Ghosts and hauntings and creaks and groans seemed fairly on-brand for Hell. Alastor’s shadow — that you had found yourself missing as well — was proof of that all on its own. 

It was that final thought that brought you to the door, hand hovering over the knob as your breath thinned; perspiration beading your skin like morning dew. Tormented by the prospect that opening it would either reveal him or nothing at all.

Unsure of which you were hoping for as you let your forehead fall forward, a huff of air passing your lips. Eyes closed as you relaxed into the cool lacquer of the wooden door, reaching out. Alastor felt especially close now. Typical that he would show up now that you were not only beginning to feel better, but also reaching the end of your rope in your banishment from him. If you weren’t too busy fighting the whiplash of frustration and want coursing through you, you would have laughed. 

Even reconciliation had to be on his schedule…

If he was actually on the other side of the door wanting to make up, of course. This could all be your imagination, which would be particularly cruel on your mind’s part considering how just moments ago you were feeling so desperate to see him, if only just to talk. You sighed, condensation from your warm breath pilling under your mouth hovering near the door.

Was he really there?

Your hand gripped the handle in response, heart heavy and loud in your chest as you turned it and pulled. There was only one way to know for sure.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took you in as you opened the door. An apprehensive expression on your face, but with an underlying relief. Though he didn’t need eyesight for the confirmation. Your heartbeat and scent told him all he needed to know with an honesty that betrayed you for his benefit. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

The life coming back to your eyes did not go unnoticed, either.

He felt what was left of his vitriol drain out of him, and in a rare moment of self-deprecation he found himself hoping his unpolished state would put you at ease. Despite the lingering tension that was still eating away at him, he truly did wish to avoid an argument. Shouting matches were simply… nasty. In a way he did not much, if at all, enjoy. 

Conversation is called an art for a reason.

A true favorite of his and it was much more his speed. With such an adaptable form you could be fencing one minute and duetting the next. Unless, of course, the conversation was bad, which was a fate worse than death. But that hadn’t been a problem with you, for the most part. He’d like that to be the case now as he prepared to linger for as long as it took to reach some kind of resolution. 

Things couldn’t stay the way they were. He knew you’d both return to yourselves eventually, but you had gotten a head start on him. Leaving him to grasp at what was on the other side of this only in regard to himself. If ever he needed you, you’d be just a summoning away. Tied to him always by your contract. Something that typically provided a sense of security to the point of aloofness. But the uncertainty of how you would approach your days independent of him in the aftermath made him falter. Made evident by the color that had returned to your face, that spark of ferocity in your eyes. 

Deep down he understood that you would carry on. 

Tied to him, yes, but not entangled. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest at the thought, his jaw flexing with irritation. He wasn’t through exploring this, relishing the fire he felt in his blood at seeing you again up close, lungs taking in your scent to feed the flame. Your racing heart a sonnet so sweet in a way that only he could truly appreciate. Feeding a part of him that either had not existed or had been lying dormant which, now awakened, was eager for more and he found himself wondering when it ever would be satiated.

More of your voice ringing in his ears, whether it was coated in insolence or lust… or laughter. More of your scent in his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the bliss of childhood summers. More of your taste on his tongue. Blood, sweat, tears. He’d take it all, or whichever morsels you were still willing to give him. Even if all that left him with was cordiality, it would be far better than letting you slip through his fingers. How wasted you would be on some tramp off the street. Not even taking into account that the average soul couldn’t appreciate your scent, attributes like responsibility and integrity weren’t typically admired here in the pit.

Who else could see you the way he did? 

Past the pout of your lips to the lethal fangs hiding behind them; that sleeping anger you managed to keep at bay but weren’t afraid to use if necessary. Would you ever reveal that ferocity and glowing eyes to someone else in the ways he had witnessed them — induced by tapping into some of your baser instincts? It made stomach twist just to think it. 

Alastor’s imagination began to run away from him then. Flashes of you making some other sinner’s bed, fetching their coffee, and picking up clothes. Drawing a bath, hanging their coat, laughing at their jokes. That now-dear sulk of yours aimed at the faceless menace when one of those jokes went too far. Phantom hands stripping you of clothes, cupping your face, roaming your body… holding your chin. And though his urges were few and far between, worse still was the thought of you crying out a stranger’s name like a reverent prayer, writhing underneath them as you fell apart.

Foul.

Bile scorched his throat as he fought to maintain his composure in your doorway. The filthy handprints he had just pictured all over you gone in the blink of an eye as his own hand twitched behind his back, eager to hold you once more and feel the heat of your skin soak into his palm. Easy as it would be to reach out and satisfy the urge he refrained from doing so, smothering his desire in his fist. Now wasn’t the right time to succumb to impulse. 

As much as Alastor wanted to pull you into his embrace he knew there was still a hatchet to bury. You had touched quite the nerve that morning, after all, and his actions had been less than genteel as a result. As justified as he had felt at the time, it settled in now as something he was less than proud of. Warranted… What a fool he was to think so. Though misguided, all you had done was try to make sense of things. You would be well within your rights to sever any further personal ties with him, and he swallowed against the anxious lump in his throat.

He had spent so much time wallowing in liquor, wasted countless hours justifying his anger toward you to ease his own unrest. Even if you had picked the fight… hadn’t he brought you right to the edge of it with his antics over the past weeks? In truth, hadn’t making you lose your composure been his goal from the start? He had certainly got what he wanted, just not in a way that was originally intended; culminating in a misunderstanding that threatened to keep parts of yourself locked away from him for, quite possibly, eternity.

Desiring someone’s comfort the way he did yours was something he never expected to have to face, let alone something he ever feared to lose. Alastor wondered for the first time how things between you would be had you met sooner. Granted, you had only been in Hell for two-or-so months, but he was a different man now than he was even then. The Alastor of two months ago still had his microphone, for starters. His sword and shield. Now nothing but another one of his corpses left to decay in the bayou.

That man hadn’t had his confidence shaken, his power drained. Alastor had felt so invigorated when he retreated to the radio tower to mend himself after battling Adam, but the healing process hadn’t been simple. Seeing as the weapon that caused the wound was made of angelic steel, Alastor expected it would take more time than usual, but he had underestimated the reality of it. So many arduous, slow hours had passed as he used all his strength just to make minute progress in closing the gash. It took a week to finally get it to seal, the scar barely formed by the time he encountered you at Rosie’s. 

Simply put, you had weathered emotional storms that he typically had much better control of. There was a sourness in his soul that had been poisoning him from the very beginning of your relationship, which you took — more often than not — in stride. As much as he felt there was no one who fully appreciated you, Alastor believed it to be a two way street. Whether there was anyone else who could take your place — paramour, caretaker, or otherwise — was inconsequential. He simply wasn’t interested in the prospect. Hadn’t he gotten along just fine in his relative solitude before you fell to suffer your infernal fate? 

It wouldn’t be the same.

It already wasn’t, in fact, which is why his feet had brought him here when his stubbornness wouldn’t. Opening the door to him was only the first step. You could still slam it in his face, effectively shutting him out; leaving him standing alone in the hall as the Overlord who owned your soul and nothing more.

He found it to be a dreadful prospect.

“May I come in?”

Even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice, making the question heavy in air as he watched you contemplate. Nervous fingers tapping the doorframe to the same beat as his heart before you stepped off to the side to make way for him. Alastor managed to fight the instinctual twitch at the corners of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time for smiling, despite the wave of relief he felt at your accepting of his request to enter.

As long as it takes…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You watched as Alastor practically collapsed on your sofa, massaging his temples with a single hand as he leaned back to cross his legs. Still doing his best to maintain decorum despite how worn out he was. Discontent, you shifted on your feet, not wanting to give into the pity you felt towards him too easily. 

As much as you tried to remember your anger, there was no denying the relief you felt at being near him again. Hearing his voice. And knowing he could pick up on it only made it worse. Would it ever be anything but an uphill battle for you when it came to him? Your eyes couldn’t help but look just past him to where you had fallen to the floor, left to console yourself in your shame and grief. The memory didn’t fuel what was left of your animosity, but pricked at your sadness instead, making you feel the weight of the day.

I’m so sick of this…

Alastor’s gaze followed you as you moved to take your seat next to him, picking your book up off the cushion and placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. His eyes and hand lingered on the cover as you sat down.

“I just missed the first draft,” he said quietly, static replaced with the distant sound of remembrance. Eyes never leaving your copy of A Farewell to Arms as he continued with a small, humorless laugh. “I was eligible for the others but the only Divisions I could have been placed in were booked. Funny, isn’t it, a quota on the worthiness to die at war? But I suppose that’s a conversation for another time…”

The glimpse of his human life caught you off guard. Vulnerability wasn’t something you expected from him, especially not in the wake of your argument; the admission was given so casually you couldn’t help but soften just a bit, leaving you hungry for more of his secrets. 

He turned to you then, somehow looking even more tired than he had before. “We have our own battle to rectify, don’t we?”

You sighed and positioned your body to face him, bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross. This was shaping up to be a long night, so you decided you might as well get this out of the way. Even managing to get a piqued eyebrow out of him from the sober look that was no doubt on your face as you considered what you were about to say. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I enjoyed our…,” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

Our what? 

Things had become so muddled you weren't quite sure what to call it. Sex, obviously, but… it had felt like more to you in the end. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that it wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one night stand at best — and had spent the whole week drowning your sorrows trying not to think about the worst.

“I know you weren’t.” He said it in almost the same tone when you had admitted it in the first place, but his eyes were soft. “I enjoyed it myself, the second time. I thought that was obvious, but when you asked about the pheromones that morning… they had nothing to do with it. Not that evening. I… initiated that. Which is why I was so incensed by the implication that I was acting outside of myself.”

The confession sunk to the bottom of your stomach. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming and even keeled regarding it. And while you felt relief that the pheromones weren’t at play that evening — and that he had not only enjoyed, but desired it — you didn’t miss the implication of the words he kept to himself regarding how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to understand why he felt the way he did. Was that why he had returned you to your room to wake up alone, because being in his bed was too much of a reminder? Had he really regretted it that much? 

Because you didn’t.

The truth was you had been more than willing to give yourself to him that afternoon. Yes, you knew something wasn’t quite right, but you didn’t know he was fighting against Valentino’s nasty little trick. You’d never know what would’ve happened if you had denied him instead, because that’s not what happened. Would he have gone into a rage? In the state he was in, that wasn’t an impossibility. In fact, that was what you had been expecting, wasn’t it? In a way you dodged a bullet — received his affections, however intense, instead of his violence. The bruised remnants of his mark on your shoulder were a dizzying mix of both. 

Though the ferocity you received the next morning… had it been lying in wait? Using the chain on you the way he did compounded by the words he spat at you was a tough memory to forget, to the point where you wondered if you ever could. He had only punished you that way one other time, but it had been nothing compared to this. Blood burned under your cheeks as you recalled how humiliated you felt. How different would things be right now if he had just let you stay?

“Look I…,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, but resisted the urge to look away from him. “I really do understand why you’re unhappy with how things happened that afternoon but…”

Here goes nothing.

“It’s something I’ve been aware of in myself for a little while but… you don’t know how much it meant to me, being touched that way by you and how you let me touch you back it —” You wiped a tear you couldn’t stop from falling and cleared your throat, but the thick, choking feeling didn’t subside. The pinched look on Alastor’s face nearly sent you over the edge, but you couldn’t stop now that you’ve started. He needed to hear this as much as you needed to say it. “It made me really happy, if that’s even the right word for it.”

It wasn’t. But you didn’t know how else you could try to tell him how wanted and safe you felt underneath him. That no one had ever managed to turn your blood to kerosene; every bit of him the match, the bed behind you kindling. At this point it didn’t really matter that you hadn’t known him for very long. You cared about him, much more than you ever expected to, and you wanted to be near him in whatever capacity you could be. Whether that made you his errand girl or concubine, so long as you were spared from the more acidic side of his temper.

“And when I think about how much you regret it, it kills me, even though I know why you do. But… I don’t. You didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s something you’ve been worrying about. Honestly, now I can’t help but wonder if it’s the other way around…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, lightly exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve only ever gone along with my impulses and games. My behavior in this has been… unbecoming. I fear my mother would be quite ashamed, and rightfully so, but you’ve come to know me at a low point.”

Everything about him felt wrung out and far off, from his posture to the defeat in his unfiltered voice. It had been absent from the moment he asked to come inside, but for some reason was only hitting you now. Though you couldn’t fight the ache in your heart from the poor state of him, there was still more you needed to know before you could let yourself give in. No matter what subconscious queues your body was undoubtedly feeding him in the meantime.

“You say unbecoming…,” you began tentatively, worried that what you were about to ask could possibly upset him again. “Is that because of how you punished me that morning, or the toying you’ve subjected me to?”

If you had to choose, you really hoped that he’d feel apologetic for the chain. While they could be annoying, his games and tricks were mostly harmless. You had admitted to yourself not too long ago that you were even beginning to miss them. That was not a feeling you extended to the invisible leash that bound you to him, not the way it had been used then, at least.

Alastor removed the hand from his nose to meet your eyes, the speed of his movement catching you off guard. For the first time all night his eyes were clear and earnest; that steadfast, hypnotizing red you had come to seek and cherish.

“Would you accept it if I said both? By pushing you I think I may have set us up for the argument. I won’t say that what you said that morning didn’t upset me, since it did, but… Perhaps if I had given you less reason to think I was playing at another game it would have never happened in the first place.” 

His voice was soft as he held his left hand out to you, a different charge in the air as your eyes broke contact to flicker down to his open palm.

The olive branch.

There was no doubt he could hear the way your heart had picked up, nearly choking you with its fervor as you swallowed against it… and gave him your hand. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I was so humiliated that morning… I’ve been so mad at you.”

Alastor could hear the tears threatening to spill behind the statement, and he squeezed your hand before his thumb began to rub in soothing circles as you looked away from him for the first time that night. He took a quick moment to follow your line of sight and grimaced when he realized you were looking at the spot where he had treated you so harshly. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did. Regret was such an awful weight, reminding him of long nights trudging through the swamp to discard one of his victims. His mouth soured. It would seem he’d need to add your name to the list.

Things were never meant to end up this way. This… tangled.

He dared to lean forward, not that there was much distance to close on your quaint loveseat, and cupped your face with his other hand to draw your gaze back to his. The conflict in your eyes went right to his stomach with a kick — the chance that you would turn him away forever still there, but he was thankful you hadn’t rejected his touch. He really couldn’t have suffered through the empty ache in his hands for even another minute; the heat of your skin already refilling his cup.

And despite how much he wanted anything but, he knew he had to give you an out. It was only right.

“I was a brute… I can’t undo what’s been done but if you’d like me to leave you alone, I will. I’m not keen on releasing you from our contract, but I would let you leave this hotel if you wish.” The words scorched his tongue, but they were true. He would let you go if that’s what you really wanted. You deserved that chance. “It’s safer here, but I would know immediately if you faced any trouble. Well… any trouble you couldn’t handle yourself, that is. I know how capable you are.”

Alastor gave you a small smile, the first time his lips had curled up with any sincerity for days. It was the most generous offer he had ever given a soul under his heel, and your short, dry laugh in response was music to his ears. There was no bitterness in the sound, nor was there any coming from your scent, but that wasn’t an indication of what was going on in your mind. Something the Overlord needed to remind himself of more often. He took a moment to really breathe you in then, floral notes of almond warming him on the inside as your body warmed him from out. Would it be the last time he was ever surrounded by you like this? 

He didn’t know when his thumb began to absently stroke your cheek, but he loved the flush it brought to your face as you considered his words. A hint of iron gave the sweetness in the air just enough bite to make him swallow, his throat now parched and wanting. It took all he had not to close the remaining space between you, needing your answer before he would move an inch save the part of him caressing your face.

A jolt ran through him as your eyes locked onto his with a resolve that made his hair stand on edge, and he steeled himself as your lips parted to speak. Never could he have imagined that you would join the short list of people to hold his fate in their palm. And fewer still, one that he didn’t hold resentment toward having that power. There was security in your hold, not malice. Such a rare thing to stumble across even in life, let alone in this sulfurous chasm that had been home for the last near-century. As unworthy as he felt to receive it, the thought of losing it was even worse. He wasn’t in love… but it wasn’t impossible that he could be, with more time. 

If you would give it to him.

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” you said quietly, and brought your free hand up to hold his chin in the same way he had held yours countless times. 

Alastor felt his ears lower despite how attuned they were to hear what you would say next, though the thumping in his chest didn’t help. To reach out and touch him of your own accord this way was bold, and he tried not to hone in on the bashfulness he felt burning his face. Why choose shame when he could have comfort? That was what he wanted, after all. A reprieve from The Radio Demon. There was nothing to be gained in postering, not with you. With you he could be… anything. And no matter your decision, he vowed to provide you with the same space. 

His schemes to mold you into something you weren’t fled him with every exhale of his lungs. It was a senseless desire… Remorseless murders were a dime a dozen here. Thrilling as it had been to see you decapitate that wretch with your teeth, the fact that you refused to do something akin to that again merely for the sake of it like so many others was refreshing. He could appreciate only killing with purpose. That had been his modus operandi in life, after all. Murder was a tool he now used to illicit fear and respect, though most souls here were free game to him even under his mortal code. You were not, and it had taken him much too long to acknowledge it.

“And I don’t want you to leave me alone… ever again, but…”

But…

The shakiness in your voice felt like the blade of a guillotine, hovering above his neck while he agonized over when you would let the rope loose and seal his fate.

“I don’t know if I could handle that again. The chain, your anger — ” A small sob escaped you then, tearing through him like a hurricane. 

Alastor didn’t even realize he was kissing your face until the salt of your tears registered on his tongue. Every little press of his lips an oath to never make you cry like this because of him ever again. And when your hands cupped his cheeks he only had a moment to relish in his relief, sighing against your skin before you captured his lips with yours. A familiar green glow enveloping you both as an unspoken agreement was made.

Peace.

What a magnanimous gift to receive. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Low voices pulled you out of sleep, making you aware of the cold that was beginning to sink into the front of your body. You had been so warm… so comfortable.

Safe.

More mumbling at your door as you groaned, the grievance in the sound not lost on you even in your groggy state. It wasn’t lost on Alastor either, saying something you couldn’t decipher beyond its tone of finality followed by the closing of the door.

“It’s still the middle of the night sweetheart, don’t stir.” 

You didn’t even have time to ask who was at the door before he ran a soothing hand through your hair, maneuvering himself back into place in your bed. Pressing the length of his body in close against yours as he nuzzled into your chest, humming as he found the pulse of your heart. The warm, claiming kiss he placed there sent a shiver through you, your shared embrace tightening in response. 

“What’s gotten into you? You promised you’d be good,” you mumbled, wriggling a little from the way his breath tickled your skin.

Even to yourself the warning was half-admonishing at best. But you were also just barely awake. Fingers betraying you as they lightly massaged his undercut, his contented sigh making you hide your face in his hair as if he could see the flush on your cheeks.

You’d be stronger in the morning.

Pet names and kisses like this weren’t something you were expecting to receive again so soon. It had been discussed, and you had both agreed to try and take things slow. A fresh start, of sorts. While you were used to him calling you dear, it was a term he used frequently toward other residents as well.

Sweetheart was… special.

Which he no doubt knew. Most likely saying it when he did so he could press up and relish your rapid heart like you were none the wiser.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, his words muffled by your skin. Inadvertently kissing you more due to the sheer proximity of his lips to your chest. Feeling closer to you now than he had during intimacy.

And, admittedly, cuddling in bed wasn’t exactly what you’d call taking it slow. But by the time you had finished talking — and making out on the loveseat — the two of you were so exhausted that letting him spend the night had seemed innocent enough. Like platonically sharing a bed with a friend. Though that’s not a word you would use to describe what Alastor was to you.

More than friends, not quite lovers. Beholden to each other all the same. 

“Which is why I’ll only do this… for now.”

Alastor’s words and the warning, low tone of his voice hardly registered before you felt his tongue lap at the valley between your breasts, leaving a scorching trail in its wake that made your breath hitch. The soft groan from his open mouth right over your heart only making it beat harder, pleading for more of him. His large palm splayed against your back as he pressed you against his lips to nestle and kiss and suck, as if trying to pull the frantic organ through your skin through desire alone. You gasped as the light prick of his nails between your shoulders sent a fresh shiver down your spine, ending in a warm bloom between your hips as you curled into his touch. His responding needy hum as he grazed you with his teeth making you whimper.

Stronger in the morning…

“You’re not playing fair,” you complained, but it was a pathetic attempt at a scolding. You didn’t really want him to stop. Alastor’s responding chuckle told you that he knew it, too. The sound of it making your heart ache, and you were unable to suppress the small whine from behind your closed lips as he nipped and licked at your collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

You barely managed to finish speaking when he moved up to kiss you properly, slow and sweet, hand leaving your back to cradle the crown of your head. Melting into his touch, you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth; gentle and hot, coaxing whimpers and gasps from both of you as you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, nudging your nose with his. 

Tears fell unbidden as Alastor caressed and kissed the lingering bruises from his bite, seemingly determined to make them disappear through sheer willpower. Every little touch — administered or received — was comforting in a way that you feared would leave you insatiable, but the thought that formed in your mind through the haze of affection was a reassuring one.

This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Fess up, toots.” Angel plopped down on a chair across from you, gleaming as he rested his head in his hands and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re havin’ all kinds of sleepovers now, huh?”

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands from the sudden question, and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. Not that the reconciliation was going to be secret — which would have been impossible to pull off anyway, considering how much the two of you had been moping around the hotel — but you had hoped to at least make it through the morning with the knowledge kept to yourselves. 

“That was you at the door last night, I’m assuming?” The nonchalance you were aiming for just enough to get a laugh from him. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“Just that I was checkin’ up on my girl — which he did not appreciate me callin’ ya, by the way — after missin’ the big night out. I hope I didn’t send him to bed too mad.” Judging by the smug look on Angel’s face, he knew that Alastor definitely had returned to bed at least a little ruffled. “Buuut after I heard ya wakin’ up I figured I’d save the teasin’ for another day.”

“And you started bright and early,” you quipped, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips as you went back to preparing the breakfast tray. 

“Well ya ain’t exactly bein’ subtle, what with the two mugs and all,” Angel taunted, jerking his head in the tray’s direction, “but jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to patch things up with Smiles. Who woulda thought all it’d take was an empty hotel, huh?” He gave you a wink and you narrowed your eyes at the suggestion, but he cut you off before you could even begin to ask the question forming in your mind. “Look, I gotta run, but I’m expectin’ a full report when I get back from work, capisce? Oh! Speakin’a which — guess who’s supposed to be on set tomorrow?”

It was your turn to laugh. “It’s about time that lazy bitch went back to work. Making the rest of you pick up the slack is just rude.”

You both snickered as you added the finishing touches on the tray, rounding out the coffee with some croissants and fruit. It definitely paid to be in the Princess’ circle; grapes in particular were very hard to come by. There wasn’t much time to relish in your mirth with Angel before you felt a cool, slinking tendril climb up your leg. Alastor’s shadow soon emerging over your shoulder to glare at your friend and whine in your ear.

Angel put all four of his hands up in mock defeat and pushed away from the table. “Duty calls, I get it,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, popping a grape from the tray into his mouth before making his way out of the kitchen. “Make sure the boss man knows ya got plans for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you called after him, glancing behind you as the shadow growled at the spot where Angel Dust had been. Its face reverted back to sullenness when you pursed your lips, admonishing him with only a look. Any lingering irritation dissolved as it tugged at your sleeve, urging you back upstairs, and you conceded with a sigh. “You wouldn’t even be here to come get me if it wasn’t for Angel, you know. I expect you to be nicer next time.”

The shadow nodded its head and pulled on you again, its phantom grin quickly returning when you picked up the tray and began to walk back to the elevators. Baseless hostility toward Angel aside, it was hard not to smile as you watched it flitter across the floor; pausing every few feet to materialize and look back, ensuring you were right behind it. If your theories about this creature were right, it was merely acting as an extension of the demon you were making your way back to, and he was apparently quite eager for your return. A warm rush of pride left your body tingling at the thought.

Then again… it wouldn’t do well for the two of you to be late to your sudden appointment with Rosie. Who, according to Alastor, was very anxious to see you both and had something special planned that he had nothing to do with.

Yeah, right… 

When you entered your room, you found Alastor at the loveseat still lounging in his pajamas and you scoffed, “That was a lot of urgency from someone who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.”

“Well, I had to do something. Our mutual friend was getting you off-track. I thought we took the same pleasure in this morning routine of ours, but perhaps I’m mistaken?” Alastor’s tone was light, his smile teasing as he watched the blush burn your face.

You cleared your throat as you took a seat next to him after setting down the tray and decided to change the subject. What point was there in admitting what he already knew?

“Rumor has it that Donny’s finally scheduled back to work tomorrow,” you said conversationally, helping yourself to some of the fruit.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face lit up in a hearty laugh; the ebullient sound of it making the mark he had left over your heart radiate with fondness. His face sharpened with that menacing, debonair grin as he looked down at you while you poured his coffee.

“Took him long enough to pull himself together, didn’t it? You did do quite a number on him, darling.”

You hummed, pleased with the proud look he gave you, and passed him the mug; a shock running through you as your fingers touched. Silly, considering how you had been pressed together all evening… not to mention all the other marks he left that matched the one currently throbbing between your breasts. 

Even in life, you never could have imagined something like this. Sitting in the parlor with a suitor, giggling over coffee and breakfast after an evening of whispering sweet nothings between kisses. It would be foolish to think a peace like this could last forever, but this was the afterlife. Wasn’t peace the absolution from mortality and its fickleness? As you watched Alastor sip his coffee, his free hand absently massaging the back of your neck as he hummed along to the radio, you couldn’t help but think so. 

Peace, friendship, sanctuary, love, and power.

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was home.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: a special shoutout to my darlings @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes for giving me their shoulders to lean on while i worked on this final chapter. you both have listened to me ramble off ideas and scenarios and have supported me with such patience and grace… i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you but i will never stop trying!

pps: i do have plans for an epilogue, but don’t have a timeline on it just yet… stay tuned 😌💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts , @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[mistyacorn]

you remind me of the main protagonist

sypnosis; dan heng and his odd way of saying “hey, i think i like you”

pairing(s); dan heng + fem! reader ⟿ featuring; pure fluff, really blank and super indirect dan heng, reader is compared to a female character (hence, fem! reader)

a/n; this was such a random write lol. im so sorry that it’s a bit of a mess, im still working on more clear storylines heheh . i hope it’s still enjoyable! ૮(ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡ also i made beauty and the beast a canon fairytale here pffft u neva know

⇢ DAN HENG is the type that literally nobody expects to like anybody, and therefore neither do you.

⇢ you’d probably even think that he dislikes you because whenever it’s just the two of you he never says a word. he’s dead silent. he only ever nods or gestures and barely looks you in the eye.

⇢ occasionally you’d get slightly jealous of how he speaks whenever march is with you guys (even though they always end up fighting verbally, it’s still talking!)

⇢ so you eventually take it as a ‘hint’ and try your best to move on.

⇢ though let’s be real, it’s not easy to move on from a crush if you see him almost everyday. especially when he has the most perfect emerald eyes and soft black hair….

⇢ one day, you’re in your room on the astral express and you’ve just finished the book you had borrowed from the express library recently.

⇢ you did borrow it without telling anyone though, so it kinda felt like you stole it haha…

⇢ but you definitely did not want to annoy dan heng with your request so stealing borrowing seemed like the best option.

⇢ you decide to head over to his room, hoping to secretly drop the book and go.

⇢ thankfully the boy is not in the room when you get there (which is super rare, go you!). you tiptoe as carefully as you can towards the bookshelf.

⇢ you quickly find the correct slot and insert the book.

⇢ just as you think you’ve accomplished your mission, you turn around and-

⇢ at the door stands dan heng, staring at you nonchalantly (as per usual). “hi.”

⇢ his sudden appearance immediately causes you to begin a five minute long explanation about how you got there. (yes, five minutes. idk how but you drag it on and on) its mostly bullshit you’re spitting out.

⇢ “…pom pom told me that there was this super cool book…. I just had to read it of course …..and it was really cool yeah yeah ….um about robots and science and…stuff….”

⇢ does pom pom even read?? you didn’t know!

⇢ and you definitely don’t notice amidst your frantic stories, but dan heng listens to you attentively in amusement. he actually has the smallest grin on his face, very well knowing you are making everything up.

⇢ to put it simply, he finds it endearing. he’s almost in a trance, just listening to you talk and talk and talk…

⇢ after you finish your story time, he snaps out of it quick enough for you to not notice anything.

⇢ and you bow repeatedly in embarrassment before dashing out of the room.

⇢ the following day, dan heng suddenly gives you a book out of nowhere. today, his signature cold face seems slightly nervous instead, but you don’t pay attention.

⇢ you see that the book is a fairytale, one that is right up your alley!

⇢ ���Beauty and the Beast’.

⇢ you open the book to see a post-it note on the first page, with neat handwriting on it;

‘y/n, I saw you liked fairytales and the fantasy genre. I do not. But I stumbled across this book yesterday, and I remember reading the first three chapters sometime when I was younger. It seems like something you’ll like. The main protagonist reminds me of you. I hope you’ll like it.’

⇢ your face is red hot as you read his note. he wrote to you. he thinks of you. he said you reminded him of a princess. (what the fvck.)

⇢ and secretly behind the scenes, dan heng is not as calm and collected as he seems.

⇢ after you put away the book and left that day, he took note of the book you had returned. fairytale…fantasy…

⇢ dan heng immediately started to think hard about any fantasy books he had read in his life. hours and hours of struggling later (he never reads fantasy, it’s too unrealistic for him), he finally remembers one.

⇢ he’d read the first few chapters of it before, and he remembers the main character all too clearly. she reminded him so much of you, yet he didn’t know why.

⇢ (truthfully, it was definitely because she was his first ever fictional crush. and now you were…… but he was never going to admit that to himself.)

⇢ he spends his night searching around the archives. 2am the next morning, he finds it.

⇢ dan heng goes to bed that night, heart thumping faster than usual, because now he realises just how much he likes you.

© mistyacorn do not plagiarize or repost please, just enjoy it ykwim

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him. 

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked. 

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that. 

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.  

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk? 

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily. 

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again. 

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place. 

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.  

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward. 

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him. 

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you. 

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.” 

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?” 

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question. 

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.” 

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad. 

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more. 

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath. 

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead. 

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 4

Farmers Market

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: nothing crazy. another date, katsuki being sweet, reader uses their quirk

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

It's been about two weeks since you went on your date with Bakugou and you haven't seen him since, unfortunately. But it was for good reason - his hero work.

Going into this, you knew he'd be extremely busy, but you didn't think he'd be this busy. But you could understand it. Though something you did appreciate was the fact that he did make time to talk to you on the phone and would let you know when he'd have to go hours without talking.

In these past two weeks you also thought about his serious talk with you, about honesty.

Guilt ate away at you every time you started writing or even thought about it, which made it harder to stay active on your writing account.

Your secret really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still a secret. Fan fiction was also something that had a bad reputation among people who didn't read it, so who knows how Bakugou felt about it.

Your phone ringing broke you out of your thoughts.

Looking at the caller ID, you saw that it was Bakugou. Smiling, you answered it and said "Hi Bakugou!"

"Hey, you busy right now?" He asked.

You looked around your room, as if that'd give you an answer. "Uh no, why?"

"Good. Can you be ready in like - thirty minutes? I'm free for the rest of the day and I wanna hangout now that I actually have time."

How sweet.

"Yeah I'll be ready by then. Are we meeting somewhere?"

"No, I'm picking you up."

"'Kay, see you then. Bye!"

"Bye."

Hanging up, you squealed into your pillow and then looked at the time. It was only 3:00 pm, so you'd have to be ready by 3:30.

As you rushed to get ready you wondered where Bakugou was taking you. He didn't say you had to dress a certain way, so you went for a casual and comfortable outfit.

He didn't seem like the type to take you somewhere extravagant randomly, so you were sure it'd be somewhere that was pretty relaxed.

After getting ready you noticed you had a few minutes left to spare so you decided to go check on the plants you had around your home.

You had about three plants in your home, all of them ranging from different sizes and types. You didn't have many plants in your home because you already had many at your work place.

You attended to each of your plants needs after they had told you what it is they wanted. One wanted more sunlight, the other was thirsty, and one was just fine.

You looked at your phone to check if Bakugou had texted you, and luckily he did. He had sent a text saying he was outside waiting for you.

You smiled and slipped your shoes on, saying bye to Cheerios and your plants like you always did.

Sliding into the passenger seat you said, "Hey stranger. How've you been?"

He smiled lightly, "Sorry I haven't been able to see you. Work keeps me busy but I'm good, you?"

"I get it. I've been good too though. Has anything interesting happened at work?"

Bakugou brought a hand up to his jaw and stroked it while he thought. "Eh, nothing major. I did stop a bank robbery with Red Riot a few days ago though."

You gasped and turned to him, "A whole bank robbery? I feel like that's such a stereotypical situation... you know? Like, you just see it in movies all the time."

"I know, which is why people usually don't attempt to rob a whole bank" He laughed, "But clearly these guys were idiots."

You laughed at that. "I can't even imagine trying to rob a bank. I mean - where would you even start?

The two of you continued to talk on the way to your destination, which he actually told you about this time. He said that there was a farmers market happening nearby and he actually went there pretty often, so he thought he should invite you along with him which you thought was sweet.

When you arrived it was just as you expected and it seemed to be quite busy.

"Wow I can't believe I've never been here before! The decorations are so cute." You said in awe, once you both started walking around.

"You wanna go get food? There's this old dude that sells the best takoyaki at his stand." Bakugou said as you two walked through the crowd.

You nodded, "Yeah I'm down. Takoyaki sounds really good right now - oh and after can we stop at that stand?" You asked, pointing to a stand that was selling crocheted stuffed animals.

He nodded and then held out a hand, "So you don't get lost in the crowd."

Yeah right.

You smiled and grabbed his hand, letting him lead the way to the takoyaki stand. Once you got there you met the old man he mentioned and talked to him for a bit. You found out that he made the takoyaki himself and he'd been doing it for over thirty years!

When it came to paying, Bakugou kept insisting that he would pay for your food but you stood your ground and told him you were just fine paying for your own.

He grumbled about it for a while after but eventually got over it. You two then went over to the stand you mentioned earlier, and looked at the stuffed animals for sale.

"They're so cute! I think I'm gonna buy one." You said to Bakugou.

He hummed, "You should get that one." and pointed to a white jumbo bunny wearing pink overalls.

"You're so right." You said and placed your food down so you could grab the bunny and check for a price tag.

Your eyes widened at the price.

"This thing is sixty bucks!" You whispered to him.

"What? Lemme see." He said and grabbed the bunny from you to look at the tag. His eyebrows raised a bit at the price. "Tsk, I can make this shit myself."

"You crochet?" You asked.

"Sometimes..." He said and looked away.

You laughed and then grabbed the bunny back from him. "Well, I guess it's goodbye bunny. You're just too expensive." You said and sadly put the bunny back where it once was, making sure to grab your takoyaki.

"Wanna go sit under that tree?" You asked and pointed to a large tree with a bench underneath it.

Bakugou nodded and you began making your way over to the bench.

Once you got there you both continued to eat your food in a comfortable silence. Looking up at the tree, you used your quirk and listened.

"This tree has seen a lot of things." You smiled.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked around his food.

"My quirk. I just used it and listened to the tree. She said she's seen a lot of interesting things in this spot, good and bad." You said and listened some more, "Proposals are the most common."

Bakugou smiled, "The tree really said all that?"

"Yeah! Trees have such interesting stories because they've been around so long." You said excitedly.

He looked up at the tree, "I guess I never thought about it like that."

After some more talking and eating, Bakugou offered to throw away your trash for you, which you accepted. He told you to wait at the bench for him, so you did.

It was taking him a bit longer than you thought it would so you began to worry a bit. As you were biting your lip in thought, a touch on your shoulder made you jump.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

You placed a hand on your chest, "Jeez! You walk so quietly I didn't hear anything."

Bakugou smirked, "Here, I got you something."

He handed you a large, brown paper bag and watched as you looked inside.

"The bunny!" You gasped and pulled it out of the bag. "But it was so expensive, why did you buy this?!"

He shrugged, "You wanted it, and I guess it's okay to look at."

You looked at the bunny intensely and rubbed its head.

"It's so cute... Thank you so much." You said.

"It's not problem, just make sure to name it after me." He joked.

You clicked your tongue and smacked him with the bunny.

...

You guys had ended up spending the rest of the day together, finally leaving the farmers market around 8:30 pm.

When Bakugou pulled up to your house, you hesitated before getting out.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, um. Do you wanna come inside?" You asked quietly.

He smiled the widest you've ever seen him smile and said, "Yeah. Will your plants be okay with it?"

"Har har." You said while rolling your eyes and got out the car, leading him into your house.

next chapter

authors note

sorry for the little cliff hanger :3

also, here's the bunny katsuki bought reader

taglist: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

(those in pink couldn't be tagged)

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 1

Pairing: 3Racha x reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Themes, Swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: That‘s the first chapter of a series, I‘m writing. It‘s my first time on tumblr… So I‘m a bit confused 0.0

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

It was one of those goldfish nights where you felt the need to drift in the waters of ecstasy and then forget everything naughty you had done. As if it had never happened.

Everyone did that when they shut down for an evening and dropped all inhibitions.

You'd go to a club, surrender to the neon lights, the sound of the music, and the alcohol, only to pretend the next day that you'd never danced close with strangers, drunkenly ripped your clothes off, or disappeared into a dark corner with the next best guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Your group of friends from university had invited you to go to one of the best and trendiest clubs in town, as they said. You didn't go out partying often, but when you did, you left all your worries at home for one night, and tonight was exactly the night you had something to celebrate.

After years of unsuccessful job hunting, you had finally gotten an acceptance letter.

Tomorrow afternoon would your first day at the new company start. Since you had only been living in Korea for a few months, you didn't know the company, so you were even more surprised when you got an acceptance letter for the job after only three days. It seemed like, they liked your profile so much, that they immediately chose you.

You had experience as a music and media journalist and had worked all over the world. Maybe that was exactly what they wanted.

So, to get rid of the excitement, you had accepted and gone to this club with old friends to have fun.

The bass vibrated in your ears and the lights immediately lulled you into the boisterous atmosphere.

Only after a few minutes you stood at bar and ordered the drinks for everyone. There was a group of seven people and you had lost three rounds of scissors-stone-paper. So now you had to take care of the drinks.

Once you ordered everything from memory and remembered the extra requests, even the bartender was impressed.

While he mixed the drinks, you leaned against the bar and looked towards the table that your friends had meanwhile conquered.

"You were able to memorize all that?", asked someone to your left, who was apparently also waiting for his drink.

"Sure... I have a pretty good memory”, you returned, giving the young man a curt look.

He smiled and that's when the bartender came over and set three drinks out for him.

His dark hair fell into his forehead and you looked at the silver rings on his fingers.

"That makes me jealous. I keep forgetting important things..."

He was cute, you had to admit. Although he was obviously trying to look tough with the tank top and leather jacket, his features were soft and his eyes sparkled like buttons in the spotlight. He was a weird mixture between hot and adorable.

You were served your first drinks and averted your eyes from the odd stranger.

"But I'll definitely remember your face!"

Your eyebrows shot up, as his pickup line was actually quite smooth. You turned back to him and couldn't help but smirk at his expectant look.

That's when you spotted two other guys behind him. They were whispering and giggling like kids while watching their friend. Apparently, he hadn't come to the bar just for the drinks.

"Are you flirting with me?", you asked, leaning back against the counter with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously. In fact, he was really attractive and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"I don't know... Does it work?”

This time you actually had to laugh.

"I gotta go, but feel free to tell your buddies I'm all over you”, you replied, nodding in the direction of the other two, who couldn't avoid to look over at us unobtrusively.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly and then grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Those idiots..." he muttered more to himself and then put on an apologetic smile.

So you waved at a couple of your friends to help you with the drinks and carry them to the table.

"See you around”, you said goodbye and he just raised his hand sheepishly.

Back at your table, your friend Aiki grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and shook you.

"That guy at the bar! Were you talking to him?"

Confused at her excitement, you glanced again at the bar, where he was now carrying drinks to his friends.

"Yeah, why? He tried to flirt and obviously failed... Although he's really cute," you said with amusement, swirling the straw in your drink.

“No way!”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head and you still didn't understand.

"What's so special about him?"

"I'm pretty sure that's Han", she explained, as if you had the slightest idea who she was talking about.

When you didn't reply, she said:

"Han Jisung! He is a member of this new K-pop band. They won a big survival-Show a few years ago, and everyone's been really into them ever since."

Sometimes you forget that in addition to her job as a journalist in Korea, she also had a fondness for all K-pop bands. She was almost obsessed with them. BTS was the reason she had gotten into the media world in the first place.

You, on the other hand, had only recently returned to Korea. Even though you were born here, you had spent very little time in the country.

The evening took its course and soon the shot glasses were piling up in front of you, the music sounded more and more enticing and eventually you were magically drawn to the dance floor with a few of your friends.

Another passion of you was dancing.

You had even given dance lessons in America to teenagers and young adults your age. You missed dancing here in Korea.

Therefore, it hardly took a second for you to move your body to the music. It was your very own therapy that brought your mind and body back into harmony.

The music flowed through the speakers directly into your blood and with the alcohol, any inhibitions fell away. Soon you lost your girlfriends somewhere among the people and danced alone. You didn't mind, but that's when you felt someone approaching from behind.

"Don't be startled", a soft voice murmured, and you looked over your shoulder into a frighteningly beautiful face.

Torn from your movement, you stumbled against his chest and he placed a hand firmly on your hip to keep you from losing your balance.

Astonished you turned around completely and the man looked as if he already regretted having approached you. He ran his hand through his dark hair and his biceps stood out.

He was wearing a simple shirt with a denim jacket and the broad shoulders and shy smile didn't quite want to match.

"My friend didn't mean to scare you away earlier. If he said something stupid, I'm really sorry."

That's when you finally recognized him. He was one of that K-pop-Han's friends.

"His pick-up line actually wasn't that bad", you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

In front of his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt small.

Now he looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh... Okay. Do you want to maybe have a drink with us? He could apologise and you seem a little lost all by yourself."

Judging by his engaging aura, maybe he was also part of that band you had never heard of. However, you highly doubted it. Idols were not that friendly. In all the interviews you had done with K-pop bands, the members had always been reserved and cold.

The man in front of you, on the other hand, radiated warmth and his eyes reflected a gentleness that contrasted completely with his massive appearance.

You nodded, after all you didn't feel like looking for your friends. You might as well use the time to meet new people. And the guy made you really curious.

Relieved, he exhaled loudly and let you walk ahead. He led you to a sitting area, where black sofas stood. There you already discovered the guy from the bar, who was talking to the third person.

When he spotted you,he fell silent and looked at you as if he had been hit by a punch.

"I'm Chan, by the way”, the man next to you introduced himself and gave you a soft smile.

"My name is Y/N”, you introduced yourself as well. He smiled broadly and you could only stare at his dimples for a moment.

As you got to the others, his buddy now looked to you and immediately grinned like an idiot.

If Chan was broadly built, this guy was a wall. He wore a tight black shirt under which his defined muscles were very present and the sleeves were so tight around his upper arms that you feared they would burst at any moment.

But he was also unusually attractive. There was something about them all that made it impossible to look away.

"Guys, this is Y/N”, Chan introduced you, and the muscleman stood up to bow curtly.

"I'm Changbin. So our Hannie didn't scare you away too much?"

Said Hannie was still sitting frozen on the sofa, looking at you as if you had flown across the room on a unicorn.

"No, he was actually quite charming. A little awkward, but nice”, you replied with amusement, glaring at him.

"You hear that? She didn't think it was as terrible as it looked from here."

Changbin patted his friend on the shoulder with a chuckling laugh, and he just puckered his mouth in embarrassment.

Then suddenly Chan was standing next to you again with two drinks in his hands. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so now I just got a strawberry margarita and a caipirinha. Have whatever you want! I'll have the other one then."

Surprised by his kindness, you blinked at him a bit surprised. Never had a guy been so accommodating in a bar.

"I'll have the margarita. Thank you.”

You sat down and ended up between Jisung and Chan. It wasn't long before Han had regained his confidence back and you were toasting, chatting, and you completely lost track of time.

The guys were really friendly and even though you were the only woman, you didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable in their presence. You even felt quite safe, which was naive considering that you had met them only a few hours ago.

But the alcohol helped to throw all worries overboard.

"I've seen you dance.... Do you do it professionally?", Chan asked, and you felt his thigh brush yours.

Restlessly, you tugged at the hem of your black dress. It reached your thighs and nestled comfortably against your body. Han looked at your legs and cleavage when he thought you wouldn't notice.

Chan, on the other hand looked so deeply into your eyes that you feared he could read your mind.

"I'm a dance teacher. But it's just a hobby."

Changbin leaned forward with interest and nodded.

"What do you do for a living?", asked Han now, and you tried to ignore Chan's hand resting on his thigh, almost touching your leg.

"I'm a music journalist. In fact, I moved back to Korea because I got a job here."

"That sounds exciting!" said Chan, his knuckles seemingly inadvertently brushing you bare skin. Your foggy mind immediately wondered what he would look like without the tank top.

Before you got even more lost in his eyes, you asked:

"And you guys? How do you know each other?"

"We were trained together and we also work together now”, Changbin began, and you noticed the warning looks from the other two.

"So you're self-employed?", you probed further.

Maybe your friend had been mistaken and they weren't in a band at all. Chan nodded quickly before Jisung could open his mouth.

"Yeah right. Us and some friends developed our own brand."

"Sounds cool”, you replied, as the alcohol gradually drove you away from the conversation. You were finding it harder and harder to focus between the men.

So you asked: "Are you guys coming to the dance floor?" You had to do something to get away from Chans teasing hands, Jisungs sweet glares and Changbins biceps.

Han pouted and shook his head.

"I'm going to stay here. Unfortunately, I hurt my foot and need to take it easy."

He really looked like he wanted to sprint out onto the dance floor but couldn't.

"I'll stay with Hannie”, Changbin said, leaning back on the sofa.

"Just the two of us, then", you said to Chan.

Before he could talk back, you pulled him to his feet by his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.Once there, you turned to him and began to move automatically to the beat of the music.

The alcohol made all the people, the music and the lights melt into one mass and before you understood it, you were dancing pressed tightly against Chan.

At first he was timid, as if he was afraid to touch you, but gradually he became bolder. He also moved smoothly. Controlled and conscious.

Like a dancer.

"You can dance?", you asked amused, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughed sheepishly and put his hands on your waist.

"A little”, he replied close to your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. Up close, his lips looked even more enticing and you wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked. His eyes were now roaming up and down your face as well.

You turned and leaned back against his chest and pressed your ass agains his body. A knowing grin spread across your face as you felt his fingers digging harder into your sides as you rolled your hips against his.

He moved with you and with every little touch, the air charged electrically. You were insanely hot and his shirt was also sticking to his body by now. You grinded your ass harder against him and he immediately had to gasp right at your ear.

That's when he quickly turned you around so that you bounced against his chest.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in your ear and you let your fingertips trail over his chest.

"Nothing...", you replied, looking at him through your long lashes. The corners of his mouth slowly lifted and he began to get into the game, letting his hands wander down your back until they were firmly pressed against your ass.

The alcohol breathed carelessness and desire into the two of you.

His lips hovered in front of yours and suddenly you didn't hear the music anymore. His hot breath bounced against your lips and that's when he started spreading kisses on your neck. Overwhelmed by the sudden tension on your skin, you curled your fingers into his shirt.

His lips brushed over your skin as light as a feather, down to your collarbone and finally to your cleavage.

He looked up at you, and the same heat that tightened into a ball in your stomach was reflected in his eyes.

Without thinking any further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. As soon as you were a little off to the side, in a corner that was dimly lit, you felt his hands on your waist.

Stormily, he pressed you against the wall and that's when his lips finally collided with yours.

That embarrassed, charming boy from before was gone. In its place had come a passionate and wild tornado that swept you helplessly along with it.

His lips moved hard against yours as you buried your hands in his hair.

His broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the club, and your heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, every curve and every patch of skin not covered by fabric.

For a moment, he broke the kiss so you could both catch your breath. His forehead was pressed firmly against yours and there he was grinning again as sheepishly as before.

You were breathing heavily and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this", he muttered and that's when your eyes met.

"Yeah, me neither", you replied.

That was the truth.

It took a long time for someone to pique your interest, and you usually didn't let people get to you that easily.

But with Chan, suddenly this heat was flowing in your veins and you couldn't turn off the desire even if you tried.

"Actually, I wanted to help Jisung.... I'm a horrible wing man."

"Yeah that's right. Your pretty bad…”

As if he actually had a guilty conscience, he pressed his lips together.

That made you laugh and you had to put your hand over your mouth as he eyed you with those dark eyes.

"Do you regret it?", you asked after a short silence.

Directly, he shook his head.

"No. Definitely not. You're stunning."

That did bring a blush to your cheeks.

Not wanting him to see how much his words flattered you, you pulled him closer again and kissed him intensely.

He pressed you against him until you felt his bulge clearly against your already soaked cunt.

"I want to fuck you right now”, he growled with a deep voice, that turned you even more on.

An excited moan escaped you and you rolled your hips harder against his growing bulge. It would have been easy to push your panties aside and free his dick so he could fuck you in the dark corner against the wall like a slut.

Your head was spinning and you wanted to tear his shirt off his body here and now. But the wild smooching quickly found its end when a voice sounded behind Chan.

"I really don't want to disturb you, but we have to go, Chan!"

He merely released his lips from yours and hung his head, not releasing you from his grip. His hands gripped even harder into your hips.

"Already?"

Changbin had a big grin on his face and you stared at the floor.

"Yeah... You know what's coming up tomorrow. And Han had way to much drinks."

There was a certain professionalism returning to Chans body as he heard about his friend.

"Hannie is already waiting in the cab. Hurry up!"

Chan nodded, then Changbin turned to you again.

"It was nice meeting you."

With that, he awkwardly said goodbye and left.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go", Chan said, as if he needed to justify himself, and you suppressed a disappointed sigh.

Instead, you simply nodded. It was getting late for you to go home as well. After all, you had your first day of work tomorrow.

And so the mysterious charming man disappeared and you remembered much too late that you hadn't asked him for his number.

--

The two rappers raised their eyes as their friend finally got into the car. After they drove off, Han asked while rubbing his eyes with one hand:

"What took you so long? We were supposed to be back at the dorm by now. We have a busy schedule tomorrow..."

Chan swallowed and was glad he was sitting in front of his friends and didn't have to face them. So they couldn't see that he was stained red up to his ears. With his arm he tried to hide his erection that won’t get soon if this girl won’t stop to ghost around his head.

He knew that tonight had been a big risk. If someone had recognized him and taken pictures of him with the young woman, he would have been screwed. He didn't know himself what had come over him.

"Hyung?", Han tried again, sounding annoyed. There was silence for a few minutes until Changbin couldn't take it anymore and it just burst out of him.

"I just caught Chan making out wildly with that girl."

The oldest whirled around in his seat despite his seatbelt and stared at Changbin. But Han looked surprised, not angry.

"Really?" he asked, and that's when one corner of his mouth began to lift.

"We just kissed for a second", he justified himself, and Changbin couldn't help but laugh.

"From what I saw, it was a miracle you were still wearing clothes at all. You almost fucked her right next to the dance floor."

Chan lashed out, but couldn't reach Changbin in the back and hit the air. This now made Jisung laugh as well, and they continued to tease him all the way to their apartment, where the rest of the Stray Kids were sleeping.

But in the next morning all of them knew the story of their leader fiercely making out with a hot girl at the club and did not stop teasing him.

-> Part 2

——————————————————————————

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[stabortega]

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER TWO

Summary: Having to deal with the aftermath of that situation was definitely worse then finding out the truth.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!G!P!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Mentions of sex, dirty talking and sexting. Knife play. Mentions of kinks, nothing explicit. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's Note: Still think my writing is trash but you guys seem to like it. 💜

MASTERLIST.

"What the actual fuck?!" Jasmine almost yelled as Jenna shoved her inside one of the dressing rooms in the set, while she tried to shut the other actress up. "Thank god someone's paying that poor girl's college."

"This is not fucking funny, Jasmine. I shouldn't have told you." Jenna locked the door behind her, looking at her apprehensively. She made a terrible mistake by telling Jasmine what went on last night. "And now they expect me to work with her? After I-"

"Seen her dick? Oh god, what will be of you?" The black girl laughed, while sitting down on the couch. "Chill, alright? She probably doesn't even know you donated. I mean, what was your username?"

Jenna gulped. "I don't wanna say it."

"Come on, was it that obvious??" Jasmine rolled her eyes, waiting for an answer.

"It was my first name then the first four digits of my birthday."

"I cannot fucking believe you."

Living in New York wasn't easy. Every apartment was obnoxiously expensive, so you had to resort to leave the city and start living in Brooklyn. It was a nice neighborhood, the best you could afford if we're being completely honest. Moving to the big city was by far the best and the worst decision you've ever made. Other than starting college, obviously.

I mean, you loved every second of it, but it started to fuck your financial life right up the ass.

"You should create an Only Fans or something." You almost spit the whiskey shot you were drinking right back to your cup, looking at your friend as if she just told you that she had killed three men with a needle. "I'm serious, (Y/N). Do you know how much money you can get just by posting out some feet pics, or whatever?"

"I'm not gonna sell pictures of my feet for cash, Liana." She shook her head no while taking a sip of her Appletini.

"Then don't. Sell your dick pics, or livestream. Come on, I know how much you're struggling and you know you're putting that body to waste. What's the worse thing can happen?"

And she was right. You started out with just an account on that website, posting some pictures here and there; until one of your followers suggested livestreaming and said she would pay some good money just to watch you cum on your stomach (which obviously, she did). It happened so fast that, when you realized it, you were able to get yourself a better place right downtown, pay off your college debts and buy a professional video camera to shoot some amateur movies. And no, not the pornographic kind.

You wanted to be a director someday, but you were also really good with a camera; which is why you got the opportunity to work in the upcoming Scream movie as an assistant videographer (and because Liana put in a good word for you). It was your first real gig in your area of interest, you couldn't be more excited.

The first day was just like any other. You got to meet a few people and get a hold of the equipments you were going to use.

"Ay, (Y/N)! Come here for a sec!" Your boss, Dave, called your name while you were looking at one of the IMAX cameras, which you've never got the opportunity to film with. You realized he wanted to introduce you to some people, which he did. You just didn't expect it would be one of the protagonists (and the newest it actress of Hollywood). "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenna."

You extended your hand for her to shake, which she did after looking at it for a couple of seconds, almost if she was analyzing you. "Nice to meet you too, (Y/N)."

And that was pretty much it, you guys didn't exchanged any other words besides that on that particular day. You even thought that she could be avoiding you, for whatever reason. All throughout the day, you felt her gaze on you multiple times, but everytime you looked at her, she just looked away.

"You're definitely not subtle." Jasmine whispered in Jenna's ear, while she watched you handle one of the camera films. "I'm pretty sure that she can physically feel your eyes on her butt as we speak."

"She's definitely gonna find out that I was on her stream last night." The Ortega took a deep breath, looking away when she realized you looked at her again.

"She's not, don't get paranoid. You have the most obvious and boring username ever? Yes. It would take just one Google search to figure out your identity? It would. But still!" Jenna got up from the chair she was sitting, realizing that all she wanted to do was to smoke this off.

"You're not helping, Jasmine." She took out her pack of Marlboro's and her lighter once she was outside. "I never even watched porn before, not even by myself."

"And now you donated $1500 to a complete stranger just so she could cum while moaning your name. That's a character development." Jasmine stood beside Jenna, who had just started smoking so she could even try to forget that she wanted to sit on her coworker's dick less than 24 hours ago.

"I'm never doing that again, Jasmine. It's inhumane and gross. It was the first and the last time."

jenna2709: thought about you a lot today.

"Oh, did you? Good to hear that." She locked the door behind her and sat on her bed. That was Jenna's, at least, 10th day of watching your streams nonstop. And she had just "caught" you in the beginning of your livestream (which meant that she had the notifications of your page on and was too much of a chicken to admit it). So that meant that you weren't even undressed yet, you were just rubbing your dick over your sweatpants and chatting a litte bit with your followers before you started your actual show. "What exactly were you thinking of, huh?"

jenna2709: of me sucking your cock under this table while you tell me how much of a good girl i am.

Jenna realized what she said after she already sent the message. Where did that came from? She thought while looking intensely at the livestream, hoping you would just stop with the teasing and take your cock out of your pants for her to see (and drool). "Oh baby, I'm sure you're very good with your mouth. Wanted to cum right on your throat and make you swallow every drop."

jenna2709: i would be honored to be your cum dump.

"Okay, I crossed the line." She took a deep breath, not even recognizing who was that person inside of her, the person that would say the most obscene and erotic shit that she ever heard. It was almost if something awakened inside of her everytime she saw you. Every couple of days, at exactly 10PM, she would lock herself in her hotel bedroom and fuck her pussy so deep until she passed out from having like, five orgasms. And that was the easy part, obviously. The hardest part was definitely waking up in the morning and having to look at you as if she didn't saw your dick inside of a fleshlight the night before.

Jenna grew up christian. In a american dream type of household. But getting in touch with Hollywood and all of the film industry made her get out of her bubble and quite literally, discover the world. She drank, she smoked, she went to 2AM parties at some A-List celebrity's house that she never even met before. But sex? Never sex. She met a few people here and there, but nothing further. It made her think about that, the fact that she couldn't even be interested enough in someone to actually have some sort of contact with them; but with you, she would stay all night thinking about you fucking her raw and senseless until she couldn't remember who she was.

"Stop teasing, Jenna. We both know you were born to be my cum dump, and mine only." You were so horny imagining having that stranger on her knees while she had her mouth open, waiting for you to dump your cum inside of her pretty little throat. You took your cock out of your pants, a little bit earlier than you've expected, but you were getting so worked up that you didn't even thought about your stream routine. You started to stroke the member gently, feeling your dick pulsate right on the palm of your hand. "I know that you're the only one who can take care of this right, don't you think?"

jenna2709: if you were mine, i would make you cum on my pussy everyday.

Jenna started to get scared. Who was this person that was hiding inside of her? Was she really like that? Is she the female version of Christian Grey and doesn't know it yet? How the fuck she got so horny all of a sudden?

She knew that the reason you were playing that little game with her was merely money. But there was a part of her, a tiny part that hoped that you felt attracted to her as much as she felt to you. Even if you'd never seen her face, or her body. It didn't mattered if she had just met you a couple of days ago; she wanted you to want her, the same way she wanted you.

"And if you were mine, I would carve my name on your belly so everyone would know who you belong to." Oh yes, the knife play.

Jenna wasn't naive or innocent, she knew about fetishes and BDSM practices; and thankfully there was the option of marking your kinks on your own profile when you created your account. The actress spent an embarrassing amount of time researching some of your kinks that were listed on your profile (there was so many things she didn't even knew existed, to be completely honest). And the thought of you doing all of those things with her got her aroused in a matter of seconds.

jenna2709: you could carve your name on my face, for all i care.

jenna2709: i would definitely want people to know that i'm yours.

The rest of the livestream went as usual, you doing all of the things that your subs asked you to, Jenna being awarded as the number 1 tipper for the 5th time in a row, nothing out of the ordinary. You were just about to cum for the second time when Jenna tipped you again with a request.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $2000 with the message: i want you to cum for me, again.

"You know I never decline your requests, baby. But, let's be fair this time around?" You answered, a little bit breathless, masturbating your cock as hard as you could. "I'll give you a private livestream if you show me your face."

Oh, a private livestream?

Jenna had been following your for awhile now ever since her first time watching your stream. She knew that private livestreams weren't something you did. And yet, you were here, offering one for free, just to see Jenna's face in return. It was a really good offer, but Jenna couldn't accept. If you found out who she was, the shooting would be the most awkward work experience for both of them. It would be like, "Hey, (Y/N)? Can you get this camera ready for me? Also, I've already seen your dick and I'm having wet dreams with you fucking me like the slut I am." So, she took one last breath after she decided to stick with her original plan and decline.

jenna2709: it's a deal.

[bonthefuckjourx]

Lucifer x Sinner!reader (Hazbin Hotel)

   SUMMARY: You wake up in Hell and realize you didn't make the cut into Heaven. You never did anything evil, but never believed in God. You wanted to live life by your own morals. Little did you know a group of hazbins would take you in and show you more kindness than anyone on Earth ever did. Then you met someone you never thought you would, Lucifer, the King of Hell. Then you did something you never thought you would, make a deal with the devil.

Word Count: 3300k+

WARNINGS: smut

A/N: I am so excited to give you guys this chapter! I feel like we are actually moving now. I've been wanting to write this non-stop, so hoping another update will be out tomorrow. In the meantime, happy reading!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER THREE: I Did Something Bad

“I can’t believe he just kicked us out like that! I mean who the fuck does he think he is?”

Charlie was pacing back and forth in her office back at the hotel. The meeting went less than ideal as Heaven wasn’t forthcoming on her idea. Not only did they rudely kick us out and fling her papers everywhere, but they also increased the Extermination date. It put you on edge how much the angels enjoyed it. You spent the last extermination boarded up in a crate for the entire day. The screams of sinners and the laughter of the angels haunted you in your sleep.

            “I mean it makes sense that the first man alive was this egotistical asshole. “

You mentioned that quite a few men on Earth were like that as well. Of course, you were brushed off as Charlie wasn’t paying attention to anything but her own mumbling. After a few minutes Vaggie came into the office and you decided Charlie didn’t need you anymore for moral support. You closed the door behind you as you made your way up to your room. It had been a long day and all you wanted was to wrap up in your warm comforter. As you walked into your room you noticed a certain friend, Angel Dust, sitting on your bed waiting for you. His head perked up as you walked towards him.

            “Y/n you are not going to believe this. He sang to me, and of course I was upset, but he sang to me. No one has cared even to ever do that for me. Afterwards he was so understanding, and we took a walk together. I mean it’s like we’re practically dating.”

            Angel Dust wrung his hands has he watched you sit next to him on your bed.

            “Did you guys’ kiss at all?”

            “Well, no, but y/n I was so nervous, and for once this is something I want to work out. I can’t afford to mess it up.” He was nervous as he looked to you for support.

            “That’s a good thing. It means you really care. I’m glad you want to take things slow for once, it’ll be good for the both of you.” Your hand gripped his shoulder as you tried to comfort him.

            “Thanks y/n. I guess I just wanted confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. I really like him.”

            “I know you do. It’ll all work out I promise.” You laid back on your bed, closing your eyes briefly. It wasn’t long before he spoke up.

            “So how was your date with the King of Hell?” You opened your eyes, glaring daggers at him. In turn he was smirking at you expecting a response.

            “It wasn’t a date, and you know it. “

            “Well practically, right? You went over to his house, that’s close enough. Did ya do anything? Tell me how big the King’s cock-“

            “Angel Dust! Nothing even happened! We had some snacks and something to drink and we talked.”

            “You. Talked?” He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you. Perhaps he knew you too well by now. You caved in.

            “Well, we did talk, but he also touched my face again and when he looked into my eyes I just couldn’t look away and then next thing I know he’s leaning me over the couch and he’s kissing me and oh my god he just touched me, Angel. Something like that has never happened to me before. It left so different, so alive. It was like his magic was all around, intoxicating me.” You spoke with your hands as well trying to have him understand just how much everything was. You dropped your hands to your sides as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for a response.

            “That’s amazing y/n, but if you ever tell the story to someone else, I advise you to leave out the part where you mention his rival. I’m pretty sure he would be less than happy to hear God’s name coming off your lips rather than his.” A blush overcame your face as you thought of saying his name repeatedly in desperation. It’s horrible just how much he ended up in your thoughts. It’s even worse most of those thoughts are less than clean.

            “Angel, I don’t even know what to do. It’s like he’s a drug to me. Something about it feels so wrong, but so very right. I mean he’s Charlie’s dad, and Charlie also has a mom. Not to mention Lucifer is how many centuries old? I was only 21 when I died. I feel like we could never actually work out. We have so many differences, but there is the trouble between Heaven and Hell. Not to mention we are trying to rehabilitate into Heaven, right? I don’t know if I even want to at this point.” Tears welled up in your eyes at all the impossibilities.

            “Maybe you should take it slow then, like me and Husk. Just be friends.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Angel left you sat in your bed for a long while. Tears came and they went and eventually you even wrote a bit in your journal. Being friends made sense even though every part of you wanted more. It would be best to be friends until this whole thing with Heaven blew over. If you could convince yourself that you were just friends with him, then maybe you could convince Charlie this was a one-time thing. Speaking of which, you needed to stand up and actually go see her. Ten minutes later you found yourself in front of her bedroom door. You knocked waiting for her to open. Almost immediately it opened, making you wonder if the Morningstars had some more magic up their sleeves than you knew about.

            “Y/n. Hey come in.”

            “Sorry for not coming to you after we came back. I was emotionally tapped out.” You walked inside as she ushered you over to a sitting area she had. A small couch was on one side as a cushioned hair was on the other.

            “It’s okay I understand. However, you might want to explain what exactly is happening between you and my father.” She sat down on the chair leaving the small couch to you. As you set down you rubbed your sweaty hands on your thighs. Charlie looked at you expectantly.

            “Well as you know I really can’t go outside. It’s one of my fears after my death and I just go into panic mode. A couple of weeks ago when he visited the hotel, he found me near a balcony. I admitted to my fear, and he offered to help me overcome it. He brought me to his study. It has these huge windows that look over the city and in a way it helped. I asked him if he would help me with going outside in the future and he said he would. That’s how we ended up traveling together to the embassy today.”

            “That much I gathered but thank you for confiding in me. I understand it takes courage to bring up fears. You still didn’t explain to me, how do I put it, how my father became disheveled.” You looked away from her, baring an awkward smile, hugging your sides. She waited when you were ready.

            “Yes that… He teleported me to his mansion first. There was time so we talked, and one thing led to another. I don’t plan to continue these actions. I do want to become friends with him, but right now it’s too messy. Not to mention he’s your father and had a wife at some point I gather?...” You looked at her with a grimace hoping to not bring up hard feelings. Charlie didn’t seem to mind.

            “Oh that? They haven’t been together for most of my life. I do think it is a great idea you visit these feelings later. I’m all for following your heart, but for one we’re talking about rehabilitant you to Heaven! Not to mention he is my father and if anything does happen in the future, please encourage him to leave me out of it.”

You both ended up laughing together, satisfied with your talk. Your conversation turned to other things and before you knew it you two were chatting about anything and everything. Just like it used to be. There was a reason she chooses you to help her around the hotel. You shared very similar aspirations as her. The only difference was you were not hell born, although sometimes you wished you were. Sinners could not leave the ring of pride, not to mention hell born often thought less of sinners. They could be powerful yes, but sinners could only reproduce if they had a hell born. Many of them didn’t want to touch sinners. It was an afterlife, but it was apparently meant to be a punishment. Many things in the city weren’t there to make sinner’s lives easier.

Eventually you left to retire to your room as you both were becoming tired. You changed into your pajamas and plaited your hair for bed. Your cell phone rang then and as you glanced at it on your vanity you realized it was from Luci. You nearly fell out of your chair. The rings continued as you thought of what to say. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and answered the call.

“Hi Luci.”

“Hey y/n. I know it’s late, but I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m sure you know; the nights are the longest.” He sounded tired and sadness tinged his words. You picked up your phone and ventured over to your bed. Laying down you set your phone on your chest as you stared at the ceiling listening to his voice.

“Yea I know about that all too well.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Luci.”

“Do you ever feel like no matter how hard you try you make everything worse?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do I really make everything worse?”

“You helped make me feel better. Didn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Then no, you don’t make everything worse.” He let out a small sigh. There was silence for a long time. The only thing you could hear was his breathing trying to keep it together.

“It just feels like it. For centuries I’ve been stuck down here because I tried to give humanity free will. I tried to give them this gift to create and invent and live their lives in amazing, beautiful ways. But it backfired. They snatched what I gave them and threw it down the gutter.” He was speaking behind broken words at this point. The emotion in his voice threatening to break it.

“Luci that’s not your fault. You were doing something good. It’s not your fault the others didn’t agree.”

“Then there’s also Lilith. I thought we had something good. We had Charlie, a real family y/n, and then she left.” His voice wavered with every word. It was heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry she left, but you have Charlie and look at all the good she is doing. You made her for the better. “

“Yea I guess my daughter is pretty amazing.”

“I don’t know much about you and Lilith splitting, but anyone would be wrong to leave you. You deserve happiness even at your worst.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome.”

You both sat there listening to each other’s breaths. Waiting for the other to break the silence once again. He spoke up first.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything.”

“Can I give you a nickname? Like you gave me mine, Luci.” Your heart pounded in your chest. Friends can give each other nicknames, right?

“Seems only fair,” you spoke softly with a smile on your face.

“Duckling. Just like my best creation.”

“I love it.” Your heart was full, but ached at what you knew you needed to explain.

“Luci, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my Duckling.” He sounded suave, confidence now in his voice.

“I need us to be just friends.” He sucked in a breath holding it across the line. There was silence for quite a while.

“I understand.” His voice was low now and cut off. The emotion gone. Had he become accustomed to shutting people out?

“Luci it’s not like that. I like you and I loved the time we spent together it’s just too fast. We barely know each other and there is turmoil between Hell and Heaven. I know it must be more than the extermination and I’m worried it’s going to be worse before it is better. Plus, the whole thing with Charlie, it’s a mess. But you’re my mess, together we’re this horrible pile of sin and lost hope. Just wait for me Luci, that’s all I ask of you.”

“Then I’ll be here waiting. Friends can still use nicknames, right?”

“Yes.”

“And talk over the phone late at night?”

“Sure.”

“Then tell me, what was Earth like?”

With that you and Luci talked for hours about anything and everything. From your music preferences to politics to even how high school was for you. He loved learning anything about humans. Thanks to him you all now could choose and oh how many choices did you have. You’re pretty sure any hobby you could think of you tried at least once. You told him about the instruments you played and art pieces you made. People you dated and people you hated. History was always so very interesting to you, and you relayed it to him in detail. Eventually it landed on the topic of religion and how Christianity seems more like a cult now then anything. He told you it had always been that way.

As the hours of the night ticked on, it became a good amount past midnight. You both were tired, but reeling on the energy you both gave each other. It was so nice to have someone to talk to again and bullshit with. He made you laugh, and he listened so very well. You would also ask him questions and you loved listening to his voice. This late at night it was a bit hoarse and husky as he spoke in a lower tone. He was tired that much was evident in his voice, but he also gave off other emotions. Those of adoration and love and home. Eventually his questions made an interesting turn towards your creative writing.

“So let me get this straight. People would write stories about fictional characters and then people like you would write completely different stories based on those characters?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you write about?”

“Well of course it was mainly romance. I was such a sucker for fantasy romance. I wish I could get my hands on some here in Hell.”

“Romance. Interesting maybe I could give you some pointers here and there for another story. Totally platonic though.” You laughed out loud at the mischievous devil.

“That’s just like no homo.” You couldn’t stop laughing it was that bad.

“Just like what now.”

“I’ll tell you the story another time.”

“Alright Duckling. Let’s hear more about these stories. Come on I’m so interested!”

“Quite honestly these stories would be romance, and a good romance story needs to feel real. A.K.A most of them had sex. There’s something so carnal and intimate to it.”

“You know one of these days you’ll have to write me a story for me to read. I really want to see the genius at work.”

“Well, what do you want the story to be about?”

“I could just show you.”

“Now, now Luci. We’re friends, remember? You could just tell me.” He chuckled across the line and a blush crossed your face at your boldness. You are just friends! Friends can talk about these things, right? If you stay away from being physical with him it all should work out. You hoped.

“My story would start with a certain fallen angel and a beautiful sinner from his land.”

“That’s a good start. What else?”

“Well, he’d take her out to dinner, buy them an expensive bottle of wine to share, and chat about their daily happenings. As dinner would continue, he would stare into her beautiful eyes as he would knead her thigh under the table. She’d laugh and play it off with a blush crossing her face. At one point he would bring her hand up to his lips, kiss it, and tell her to slip off her panties. Hesitantly she would take them off, handing it to him under the table where he would hide them in his pocket.” His voice was laced with lust and made you tremble deep inside. Your deepest fantasies were coming to life with the sound of his words.

“And maybe on the way home this fallen angel would spread his wings and fly her across the city. She would hold onto him and whisper sweet nothings into his ears. When he would land, she would run her hands along his wings, daring him to keep them open.”

You could hear him struggling to keep it together on the other line. A small whimper left his mouth, and you wondered what he was doing. Wondered if you should do the same.

“He’d bring her inside, throwing her on his bed, taking in her beautiful form. His fingers would snap, burning off her clothing in angelic light. He’d use his tongue and lick over her neck and her breasts. Paying close attention to her nipples rolling them in his mouth. He’d kiss her deeply, running his tongue against her lips and nipping at her. His hands would run along her thighs, leaving little marks as his claws dug at her skin. She would be marked as his.”

Your breaths were matching his as you moved your own fingers to his imaginations. Soft moans rolled from both of your lips as you continued the story.

“She would wrap her arms around his neck, biting at the soft flesh there. She’d let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she left her legs open for his taking. She’d whimper and moan as he moved down towards her warmth gasping as he delved in. His tongue would roll between her folds, flicking up and down. Two of his fingers would explore and find the perfect spot and she would melt underneath his touch.”

“He’d take control then lifting her up from the bed. They’d find the nearest wall, pushing her up against it. He’d kiss her deeply as he lined up his shaft to her entrance. They would find a rhythm as she would wrap her legs around him. He would become undone. He would slow down and ease up, then increase speed and deepen the intimacy. At the end he would kiss her, mumbling intoxicating words as he wrapped his arms around her. She would hold onto him as if he was the air she needed to breathe. They would come together then, breathes slowing down as they listened to each other’s heart beating.”

In the end there was very little for you two to say. You were just friends but committed a dangerous sin. Neither of you cared but didn’t dare admit to it.

“Are we finished?” The man on the phone asked not wanting to face their consequences.

“I am, Luci.” You could swear you heard him let out a sigh of relief.

“Then that’s all that matters.” You rolled your eyes. This man never thought about himself.

“Are you as well?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think I could ever have a different answer.”

Shortly after you two said your goodbyes, finally sated. An unspoken truth held in the air; you both knew nothing would ever be the same. You were spiraling down a fate you were afraid to face. You made a deal with the devil how could you think you would ever make it out alive.

For he was your Savior.

And you had a lot to repent.

[23fallencomets]

chapter 7: the one i was supposed to get done last week but didn’t

anyway, tough fp3 and qualifying huh, just really disappointed on how this session went especially since the williams looked really good and were projected to do well but i guess when one door closes another opens.

moving on, i think im gonna wrap this up around the tenth chapter or something. it’s been a real blast and im currently in a writers block (with like three/four fics on the list) so these help moving the writing juices.

enjoy 💞💞

[twitter]

user81: logan had a priv???

user82: yesss he was so unhinged on it

user83: he was so funny during fashion week of 2022

user84: brother had no media training back then

user85: bring back unhinged logan

user86: found it!!

user85: ahhh 23 year old logan you will be missed

user86: WHAT

user87: LOGAN JUST DROPPED IT AND MADE IT A COLLABED POST

user88: WHAT IS WEONG WITJ THEM

[instagram]

logansargeant made a new post!

logansargeant and oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lewishamilton and 10,289,378 more

logansargeant: surprise! the dynamic duo is back with the 2024 Summer Collection!! it was an absolute blast doing this campaign with Ozzie and i’m glad it’s finally out

landonorris: me next

logansargeant: i have an opening during summer break

landonorris: meet me in ibiza

oscarpiastri: hella respect for modeling because this was tiring 😓

logansargeant: i should bring you along to a fashion show

oscarpiastri: i love you but please don’t

logansargeant: 😞

user89: HELLO???

lewishamiltion: 🤫🤫

logansargeant: 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

user90: what do you know??

user91: why is no one mentioning ozzie

arthurleclerc: logan gave all of us nicknames

user91: share with the class

liamlawson30: 🙂‍↔️

liamlawson30: (im)patiently awaiting my turn

logansargeant: LIAM WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN 😫

liamlawson30: training, practicing you know the usual

logansargeant: then answer my text messages you dick

logansargeant posted a new story!

logansargeant made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and lewishamilton and 11,444,812 more

logansargeant: absolutely deserved!! we have been dreaming about this moment since we were kids and im absolutely ecstatic for you!! im 100% sure i cried, love you man!! future wdc in the making!! onto the next one

[user has limited replies]

logansargeantoffical made a new tweet!

logansargeantoffical: well he can, i actually have a job to do

liamlawson30: take him along like you did that one time when i was in SF

logansargeantoffical: you complained the whole time??? and i was only in japan for three days

user92: are you guys not spending it together 😞

oscarpiastri: we are it’s just the someone 😒 has to make up all the work he missed

logansargeantoffical: you make it sound like if i work a 9-5

logansargeantoffical: and it’s only a week, you’ll survive

oscarpiastri: or i can join you

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 5: Kiss With A Fist/Human Nature

A/N:

Ya'll. Writing this chapter felt like a marathon. But I think I'm ultimately very happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

This chapter is a bit longer, and I think it deserved to be named after two songs because of that. "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine definitely fits the first half of this chapter and was one of the first songs I added to my playlist when writing this story, so I knew I wanted to use it for the big public confrontation.

The vibes toward the end are different. I discovered this song earlier this week and haven't been able to stop listening to it, so maybe I'm just reaching to try and justify including it lol. But "Human Nature" by Barrie is what I decided to use for the second half of this. Cause they're spitting facts when they say "Human nature doesn't always come easy" lmfao.

This is far from the end of this story, but it may be a second before you hear from me, depending on how busy the next few weeks are. I say that - watch me turn around and post something this weekend lol.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. I love you and I'm so grateful to know you're along for the ride.

---

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

---

Barbara Howard did not take days off. It was only recently that she allowed herself her first mental health day, and while she could see the benefits, she had been eager to get back to her classroom, her students, her best friend, and even her coworkers. The life of a teacher was unpredictable, and the life of a teacher at Abbott Elementary came with its own unique set of challenges, but Barbara had seen a lot in her decades of teaching. With some hard work, support from her fellow teachers, and the grace of God himself, she had seen and survived it all. Barbara Howard could conquer anything thrown her way.

However, if Barbara had the magical gift of foresight, she might have chosen Monday morning to take her second mental health day in her entire history at Abbott. 

As it was, Barbara could not see into the future, and so she entered the teacher’s lounge at 6:30 AM, on the dot. She claimed her usual spot, made herself a cup of coffee, and began sorting through her lesson plans for the week. She enjoyed her few moments of serenity in the lounge prior to the arrival of her more talkative coworkers. It wasn’t unusual for Melissa to arrive a bit later, especially on a Monday, so Barbara thought nothing of her absence. She politely greeted Janine and Jacob as they entered together; she did the same for Gregory shortly after. As the three younger teachers gathered at their table and discussed their weekends, Barbara continued her work, occasionally reacting to what she overheard. And when you entered the lounge, your first time visiting in the morning, Barbara was mildly surprised, but she shot you a warm smile all the same. She noticed you seemed to be a bit tense, but she chalked it up to the fact that you were still very new. 

Melissa had talked her ear off about you last Monday, of course, explaining your tardiness and the shots you’d taken at her about her age. When Barb pressed her for details about your confrontation and what you’d said to each other, she simply said, “I took care of business, a’right?” 

While Barbara agreed it was unprofessional of you to arrive late, she also knew Melissa better than anyone else in Abbott did; she knew Melissa could take things too far. Melissa was as passionate as they came, which meant she was one of the best teachers at the school. On the flip side, she also had a short fuse. Barbara knew she didn’t have all of the details, but she didn’t think much of it - you were a sub, after all. She expected she’d never actually meet you. 

So when you arrived in the lounge for lunch the day after your explosive argument, she was shocked. While skeptical of you, she couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. You’d come face to face with the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti and still returned to Abbott. You’d introduced yourself, and as far as Barbara could tell, you were perfectly polite and well mannered. The displeasure and hostility radiating off of Melissa was felt by everyone in the lounge, but aside from giving her close friend a pointed look, Barbara chose to ignore it. 

You’d continued showing up the rest of the week, greeting Barbara every day before taking a seat with Janine and Jacob, as well as Gregory, occasionally. The younger teachers seemed to have taken an instant liking to you, the four of you sharing stories from previous schools or discussing the latest movie releases. You’d even had a good-natured exchange with Ava one morning. The principal had leant against the corner with her phone and talked you through her “roster”, whatever that meant. Barbara was sure she didn’t want to know. 

Barbara observed how seamlessly you integrated into Abbott’s social circles - with the obvious exception of the red head who always sat to her right in the lounge. Melissa pretended you didn't exist, which would have been fine if it wasn’t the elephant in the room. Your first day in the lounge, Janine had tried to talk to Melissa about you. She’d turned to Melissa with a huge grin on her face and said, “Man, Melissa, you’re so lucky to have such an awesome sub as your aide.” 

Melissa had glanced at Janine over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, and in a sharp tone, retorted, “What sub?” That’s all it took for everyone in the room to grasp her unspoken message: If you value your life, drop it. The only reaction Barbara saw was a sharp flash of your eyes before you turned your back to the older woman and called Janine over, changing the subject. 

But last Friday, Melissa caught up with Barbara after the school day ended and explained that you’d just given her two VIP tickets to the Eagles game on Sunday. If there was anything that would help Melissa forgive your transgressions, it was that. Once again, Barbara found herself impressed with you - you took the initiative to make amends and you’d knocked it out of the park. She was happy for her friend. She’d told Melissa, “Just think of how much you’ll be able to accomplish now that you and that young woman can work together. Now, you and Gary go enjoy that ball game.” 

A week after your first morning at Abbott, all of the water was seemingly under the bridge, and the staff room could breathe easy again. No one paid much mind to the anxiety radiating off of you. For the most part, the energy in the room was calming as the day began. 

The sudden CRACK of the door slamming into the shelves violently ripped the room’s occupants out of their morning zen. It was enough to cause everyone to nearly jump out of their skin. Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway as Melissa’s furious form charged into the lounge. Her attention was initially on Barb, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes locked on you. The blush of fury rose instantly in her cheeks. She ripped her bag off of her shoulder and tossed it in the direction of her regular table, nearly hitting Barbara in the process, and as her eyes narrowed, you could practically see the steam rolling off of her as she hissed out, “You.” 

And that’s when Barbara knew any chance of a peaceful morning had gone out the window.

—----------------------

As your weekend began, it didn’t take long for it to sink in that you were well and truly fucked. You completely failed to consider the consequences of your little scheme. There’s no way in hell Melissa wouldn’t be out for blood at the start of the next school week. The smartest thing to do would be to never return to Abbott, move to a new city across the country, and change your legal name. You went back and forth between chastising yourself for being ridiculous, and being so ridden with anxiety that you couldn’t eat. You felt so stupid - what did you think would happen? 

Ultimately, you reached a point where you couldn’t handle the crushing weight of what you’d done alone, so you’d spilled to Ava. Her response had been about the least reassuring thing she could have said.

You did WHAT? I didn’t know you were crazy like that! You’re gonna die girl. I’m not even joking. We gotta go out this weekend, cause it’s your last one alive. I’ll make sure you have fun tho. Do you own any latex?

After refusing Ava’s offers to make your last days on earth worthwhile, you spent most of the weekend drowning in anxiety and imagining how Melissa would bring about your demise. You decided you had to do your best to prepare. You literally couldn’t afford to not go back to Abbott, especially after getting your headlights repaired Saturday afternoon. Under the anxiety, you could feel the ember of your rage, still pulsing with a red-hot glow, so you decided to grasp ahold of it. What you’d done was shitty, sure. But compared to smashing headlights? All you’d done was get even.

Seeing as you couldn’t afford to uproot your whole life and leave Philadelphia, the next most logical thing to do was to never be caught alone in a room with Melissa ever again. You were pretty sure this was something you could pull off - you figured you had two weeks left at Abbott tops, and as long as you had kids or other teachers in the same room, you would have witnesses who could recount your violent death should Melissa murder you. 

This is what caused you to arrive at Abbott on Monday morning a full hour and a half before you needed to be there. You’d dithered in your car for about fifteen minutes, debating driving away and then talking yourself out of it. Eventually, you braved the outdoors, darting into the building and down the hallways as quickly as you could. You practically sprinted past Melissa’s classroom door - the lights were out, but even though you logically knew she wasn’t in yet, your mind conjured a vivid image of her jumping out of the shadows like a monster in waiting. You slowed down and tried to control your breathing as you entered the teacher’s lounge, and you were immediately soothed to see how many people were already there. Even better, Melissa was absent. 

As you passed Barbara, you gave her a hesitant smile. You actually liked Barbara, as much as you can like someone who’s polite and whom you don’t know very well. You figured it may be the last chance you get - surely the woman would turn against you once Melissa told her what you’d done. Janine, Jacob, and Gregory were all sitting at your usual table, and after preparing your morning coffee, you quickly situated yourself in a seat, thankfully facing the door to the lounge.

“Hey!” Janine said, shooting you her adorable, slightly gapped-toothed smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh… it was fine,” you said, your eyes darting toward the door as it opened. Not Melissa . “Mostly caught up on chores… had to get some work done to my car, fun stuff like that.”

“Car problems are tough,” Gregory said, spooning a bite out of his bowl of plain oatmeal. “What was wrong with it?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what was really wrong. It would inevitably lead to questions and the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know the details of your feud. It was one thing for everyone to know Melissa didn’t like you - there were very few people Melissa actually liked in general. But it was another entirely for them to know she’d smashed out your headlights. Something generic - a bad alternator, maybe - would suffice.

You didn’t even get the chance to lie.

Despite the fact that you could see the doorway, the resounding SMACK of the door slamming open still made you jump. Before your brain knew what it was processing, in stormed Melissa Schemmenti, thick heels clacking on the linoleum tiles. She wore a form fitting pink sweater, the neckline questionably appropriate, and skin tight black pants. Her saint necklaces shimmered from their home on her collarbones. You supposed she wanted to look hot when she killed you.

It only took a moment for her eyes to lock on you, and in that moment you knew things were about to get ugly. To your surprise, seeing the flustered state she was in created a feeling of immense satisfaction. She was furious because your plan had worked. You didn’t even fight the smile that began to find its way onto your lips. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but you relished in the triumphant feeling of landing a critical hit. 

“ You,” she hisses, tossing her bag from her shoulder. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. 

Your eyebrows shoot up, feigned ignorance in your voice as you point at yourself and respond, “Who, me?”

She starts toward you, and everyone else at your table scatters. You’re shocked to see Janine step in front of you, her hands up placatingly. “Melissa-”

“Shut it, pipsqueak, and get out of my way ,” she growls, her gaze over Janine’s head burning holes in you. 

“Hey!” You spit out, anger spiking and crowding out your anxiety. You’re suddenly standing. “Don’t call her that!”

Janine turns to you, holding a hand in your direction now too. “It’s fine, she calls me that all the time-” 

“It’s not fine!” You shout, fists balled. Your eyes are glued to Melissa’s. “You think you can say and do whatever you want because no one will stand up to you. Well, I’m not going to put up with it!” 

“Oh my god, please stop this. I will never psychologically recover from seeing your dead body,” Jacob pleads, wedged between the corner of the room and the fridge for cover. 

“Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust ya,” Melissa growls. “And after all that bullshit about ‘olive branches' and bein’ cordial.”

You smirk. “Oh, right! How was the game?”

Melissa starts forward again and Janine has to physically hold her back. She’s shockingly effective in spite of her small stature. 

“Ya know I didn’t get into the game! Gary and I went all the way to the stadium, but you gave me fake tickets! We wasted our whole afternoon and got harassed by security!” she shouts. 

“So what are you gonna do about it? Beat me up? Call the cops on me?” you challenge.

A deeply offended look crosses Melissa’s face as her jaw drops. “Are you callin’ me a snitch?” she snarls. She surges against Janine one more time, who manages to keep her back again. “That’s low, even for you!” Melissa says nastily over Janine’s shoulder.

“Oh, that’s low?” You ask incredulously. “Low like smashing someone’s headlights out?” There’s an audible gasp from Jacob in the corner, and you feel the heat of everyone’s gaze turn from you to Melissa, the whole room enthralled by your verbal tennis match. 

Melissa glances around her before pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Ya can’t prove that was me!” You thought someone would have to have been born yesterday to believe that; anyone who worked at Abbott knew that’s exactly something Melissa would do. 

“Oh yeah, because everyone else here keeps a bat taped under their desk like a neurotic asshole!” you proclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I’ll show you ya stronza- ” Melissa hisses, pushing past Janine and beginning to reach for you. Your arms come up to instinctively protect your face, but before she can reach you, a figure closer to your height blocks your vision.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Barbara Howard bellows. The whole room comes to a standstill, frozen in time. Even Melissa has been stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide in shock as Barbara looks accusingly between the two of you. You feel immediately ashamed. “Are you both not grown adults? I cannot believe the absolute foolishness I’ve just witnessed!” She rounds on Melissa. “Especially from you!” 

“Barb, she-” Melissa starts. 

“I don’t care if she insulted your cooking to your face, you do not behave like catty teenagers! We are professional, grown people! Acting like this in front of your peers? Disgraceful! ”

She rounds on you, her eyes narrowing. “And you. To think that I was beginning to think highly of you. You went to all that trouble to make fake football tickets, just to get back at Melissa? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘An eye for an eye’ ?” 

The pit of shame in your stomach is sickening as you slowly lower your arms, your eyes unable to meet Barbara’s. Feeling like a petulant child, you couldn’t help but mutter, “She started it.”

“And now I’m ending it!” Barbara yells. You feel her grip the sleeve of your sweater and pull. You stumble after, seeing her grasp Melissa as well. “You are both coming with me!” The rest of the lounge doesn’t move a muscle as Barbara Howard physically drags you into the hallway. 

She marches with both of you in tow, Melissa sending you the nastiest glares she can muster from the other side of her friend. Stopping in front of a classroom full of bright colors and tiny chairs, Barbara turns to both of you. “This has gotten completely out of hand! You are both going to sit in my room and we are going to work through this. I don’t care if it takes all day - you will NOT be allowed out until you can act like civilized adults!” She folds her arms and gestures her head forward. You stare back for a moment, thinking she must be joking, but the woman doesn’t budge. After a moment longer, you enter the classroom. You’re followed closely by Melissa, who stalks to the other end of the room. 

Barbara closes her door and pulls down the window blind. She turns to you both, her eyes closed and her shoulders rising in deep, even breaths. Eventually, she opens her eyes, and commands, “Take a seat.”

You glance around and only see chairs for children. You begin to protest, but the look on Barbara’s face prompts you to simply grab the nearest chair and plant yourself in it. Your knees are comically close to your chest and you don’t know where to put your hands. You settle on resting them on top of your knees. Melissa is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself - you guess she gets to ignore Barbara’s request. 

“Now,” Barbara begins. “We are going to talk out your problems so we can put this whole mess behind us. Your students deserve you at your best, and you cannot be your best when you’re at each other’s throats!” She’s stern, chastising, and you feel ridiculous. “Where did all of this animosity start? Why are you angry with Melissa?”

You can’t help but scoff because the answer should be obvious. Barbara presses her lips together in annoyance and you quickly reply, “Well, where do I begin? Aside from smashing my headlights out, she’s done nothing but disrespect me since I stepped foot in her room. She was insulting me before she even learned my name!”

“I never learned your name,” she pipes up spitefully, and you whip your head around to glare at her. 

“Memory not as good as it used to be?” you retort. A muscle in her jaw jumps out as she clenches her jaw, her face coloring once more. 

Before she has a chance to rip into you again, Barbara cuts you both off with a stern, “Knock it off!” She looks exasperatedly between the two of you before pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Lord is testing me today,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She turns her attention to the fiery woman across the room. “Melissa?” 

Melissa comes to a stop, planting herself and leaning her weight onto one hip. She rolls her eyes, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “If we’re goin’ back to the start, then first things first, she strolled into my class thirty minutes late. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize.” 

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” you protest. “I hadn't even stepped into the room before you were criticizing me. It’s not like I did it on purpose, it was a complete and total accident. And then you started insulting how young and inexperienced I look.” 

“I was just givin’ you a hard time, that’s all,” she says indignantly. “How was I suppose ta know you can’t take a joke?”

Your head whips toward her. “And smashing my headlights? Was that a joke?” you retort incredulously. 

Her eyes narrow and her tone is venomous as she hisses, “Nah, that was for throwin’ away my school supplies, stealin’ lunches, and callin’ me a bitch.” 

You hear Barbara’s sharp inhale and jump to defend yourself. “Those supplies were all broken or unusable! You have so much on your hands with two classes and I was just trying to help you. Also, Janine gave me that lasagna because I forgot my lunch, I didn’t steal anything. You wouldn’t give me a chance to explain myself before jumping down my throat. Not to mention calling me degrading names in Italian!” 

Barbara raises an eyebrow and gives Melissa a knowing glance. “Melissa uses gabbortz quite often, it’s nothing to get offended over,” she says, an attempt to reassure you.

Melissa’s eyes dart to Barbara’s as she huffs, “Uh, it’s gabbadost , Barb. And I mighta used somethin’ more… vulgar.” To your disbelief, the red head practically looks sheepish at this admission. Her arms cross in front of her as she shifts her weight, and your eyes are drawn to how the motion causes her cleavage to swell ever so slightly. Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you dart your eyes all over the room, attempting to find something else to fix them on. Luckily, neither woman seems to notice. Barbara’s eyebrows are furrowed in an inquisitive way that suggests she’s waiting for the shorter woman to elaborate. Melissa lets out a puff of air. “I mighta used the ‘P’ word, a’right?” 

Barbara’s eyes widen as her mouth drops open in a gasp. “The ‘P’ word? Melissa Schemmenti, you don’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I save exclusively for Kristin Marie. That ‘P’ word.” You don’t know who Kristin Marie is, but Barbara looks positively scandalized.

Tearing her eyes away from Melissa, Barbara stands and turns away from both of you, hands on her hips and head shaking in disapproval. As she takes her turn pacing across the room, the disappointed silence from the older woman allows the weight of the last week to settle on you, and you find yourself suddenly exhausted. You lean forward, your head in your hands and the shame rising inside of you like a tidal wave. How did you get here? 

“Well, I think you both have been sufficiently horrible to each other,” Barbara says, turning toward you. “Now explain how this has all made you feel.” 

You and Melissa groan in unison. “Come on, Barb,” Melissa starts, but Barbara holds up a single admonishing finger to silence her. The Italian woman becomes subdued immediately, and you notice how different Melissa’s reaction is to being silenced by Barbara.

“How has this made you feel?” the older woman presses, her tone of voice a warning to comply. Melissa leans against the wall, refusing to budge. You all sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity, and you wish the floor would swallow you up. She was using the same tactics on you that you might use on two fighting eight year olds.

Eventually, you can’t handle the tension any longer and you burst out, “I feel totally disrespected!” You look to Barbara and she gestures for you to continue. “I uh… I feel belittled, and like you don’t take me seriously, but I think the worst part is I never got the chance to prove to you that I belong here… you wrote me off before you even met me. I’ve worked hard, and I love what I do, so to have you disregard me right off the bat, just because I made a mistake and I look young… it felt pretty shitty,” you admit, the confession coming out of you in one long rush. 

“Especially because… I was excited to work with you,” you add quietly. You’re suddenly enamored with the floor, unable to bring yourself to look either woman in the eye. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you’re majorly uncomfortable with it. 

You’re forced to endure your feelings of discomfort for a few more torturous minutes. Suddenly, your eyes widen in shock as a husky voice meets your ears, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the words. 

“I guess I feel a lot of the same,” Melissa admits. You raise your gaze to meet hers, and she’s staring at you intently, the earnestness reflected in her jewel-green eyes making your heart skip a beat. “Felt like you didn’t really care when you were late. Some a’ these kids? They got plenty of adults outside of these walls that don’t really care. That’s the last thing they need here. And then ya walked in and you look so young… I couldn't resist teasin' ya. But then you got me back and I got defensive, and I shouldnt’a.” She shifts her weight, casting her eyes to the floor. “I bought all those supplies with my own money,” she admits. “So seein’ you throwin’ em away, it really rubbed me the wrong way. But… you were right. I was tryin’ to stretch em when there was no more room to stretch. And then seein’ my lasagna on your desk… I know I can be a real hot head, and I took it out on ya and it wasn’t fair.” 

As you look at Melissa, her red hair shining under the fluorescents and her evident unease at her own candor, there’s a swelling feeling in your chest and a warmth slowly spreading in your limbs. “Melissa,” you say, and her head snaps up to meet you. You search her eyes, waiting for her to snap at you for using her first name. She doesn’t. She simply waits, holding your gaze, and you can’t quite read what’s behind her eyes, but you suspect it’s something far softer than she’s shown you before. 

You allow yourself to swim in those emerald pools for just a second longer before you admit, tenderly, “I’m sorry.” You see her shoulders drop ever so slightly, tension releasing as she allows your words to sink in. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your age. I’m sorry for throwing your things away without asking. And I’m really sorry about the Eagles tickets. That definitely wasn’t my finest moment.” You say the last bit with a touch of humor. You pause for a moment, before adding, “I’m not going to apologize for the lasagna, though. Janine insisted on giving it to me, and it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted.” 

You see her eyes widen, her brows raising in surprise. A genuine satisfied smile graces her lips, and you can’t help but momentarily wish things had been different over the last week so you could have seen more of those. That smile made her entire demeanor change. 

“Well,” she says, eyes flashing with her own humor. She shoots you a sly grin, and you return a small smile of your own. “If I’m bein’ real with ya, I’m impressed. Fake tickets? Pretty diabolical,” she continues, admiration in her voice. Her smile fades, though, and she brings her hand up, pressing a knuckle to her lips briefly in thought. She sighs, murmuring, “I’m sorry too. I shoulda given you a chance before jumpin’ to conclusions. And, uh… I’ll pay for ya to get your headlights fixed.” She mutters that last part, and you notice that she didn’t apologize for smashing them - but you know it’s as close as she’ll come, because you’re not sure she entirely regrets it. You’ll take what you can get.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and once again you suddenly can’t look at her anymore. Luckily, Barbara draws your focus to her as she clears her throat. You both look toward the older teacher as she stares down at you, a smug, triumphant smile dancing across her full lips. 

“Now, was that so hard?” She asks, her voice teasing both of you. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe fully again. Melissa rolls her eyes, pulling herself away from the wall, but you detect a hint of relief radiating off of the woman as well. 

“Don’t expect us to hold hands or nothin’ Barb,” she says as she heads for the door. When she reaches it, she pauses and turns to you. She considers you for a moment, and you begin to feel warm underneath her gaze. Finally, she says, “Well, ya comin’? We got lessons to plan for the day. How do ya feel about teaching Science?” Her tone is gruff, commanding, no nonsense. The carefully curated tough exterior of Melissa Schemmenti is back in place. But you’ve seen the slightest glimpse of the human being underneath.

“Right behind you,” you reply, and a tentative grin breaks out across your face as you stand and begin to follow the short woman. You pause briefly though, a thought entering your mind, and you turn to Barabra. Your hands grasp each other behind your back as you rock forward onto the balls of your feet, and you convey your gratitude by giving the older woman the warmest smile you can muster and uttering, “Thank you, Barbara.”

She returns your smile, her own radiant and warm, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed a bit. “My pleasure, dear. Go on, I’ll see you at lunch.” You nod in agreement, and turn on your heel, following after your lead teacher. You’re not friends - seeing as your time is limited at Abbott, you don’t imagine you ever will be. But you feel lighter, and there’s a newfound respect for the short woman. And for the first time since you stepped foot inside Abbott Elementary, you feel excited for the day before you.

-------

A/N:

Yes, I'm sorry, Gary will be briefly mentioned/perhaps even making small appearances. Stay strong lol. Controversial opinion but I don't hate Gary. Did I think he was good enough for Melissa? HELL NO. Do I think he should have respected her wishes and listened to her when she explained her boundaries? HELL YES. But ultimately he was just a big dumb guy who was infatuated with Melissa Schemmenti, and to that, I relate. Still, I wasn't mad about that split.

Fun fact - if you've watched season 3 episode 4 already, I wrote the Ava roster line before that episode aired. I died laughing when the kids were talking to Gregory about his roster. We don't need to talk about the firefighter exchange... denial is my favorite state.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

In Verona, you’re an outcast. Bradley’s determined to make up for the day before.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, them actually getting along for once?, kissing, bradley has a corruption kink and doesn’t know it. wc: 7.35k

…

“I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now.” His voice grew agitated on the other end of the line. Understandably, he expected a delightful update on your sunny summer in Italy and was blindsided by you bringing up a fight from last year. “It’s been months. We’ve moved on.”

The phone pinned between your cheek and your shoulder, you fidgetted nervously with the band around your finger, inspecting the expensive diamond that sits on top of it. Hearing the annoyance in his voice, you should have stopped there, and told him that it didn’t matter. You hadn’t.

“I know, I know we have,” Your voice trembled. Your fiancé sighed hard on the other end of the line. “But the last thing I remember is being at that party with you. If I hurt you, Malcolm—“

“I asked you to marry me.” He blurted out, abrupt and biting. There was no point lying to you. There never had been, you would never let something like this go. He was upset. You could tell. You had continued anyway.

Your brows knitted together. “No… you proposed to me at my parents’ house. O-On Christmas Eve.”

“I did,” Malcolm breathed out through gritted teeth. Thinking of how you had humiliated him that night isn’t a fond memory. “But I asked you to marry me that night, at that party, without a ring. I told you that you’re the love of my life and I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me.”

You had closed your eyes, trying to force yourself to think. You still don’t know how anyone is supposed to reply to that.

“And you cried your eyes out, then left me standing there like an idiot.”

This morning, you’re sitting silently in a library with a notebook in front of you, trying to fathom how you could have done that to him. You wonder if he told anyone but you about that. You had spoken with your mother about marriage not long before he had proposed on Christmas Eve — you had agreed to marry him enthusiastically that day.

How is it that less than a month before, he could have asked you the same question, and your instinct was to run? — Not only to run, but to kiss another man. To spite Malcolm maybe. To act out. Whatever it was, you can’t pretend that it isn’t a relief to know that Bradley wasn’t the reason.

You hadn’t kissed him because he mattered, just because you were drunk and scared.

He’s standing at the end of the table now. Is long and wooden, not dissimilar to the one in the university library. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and faded blue jeans, speaking confidently in Italian to the restoration technician that you’re here to work with today.

This is one of the first pieces of actual research that the students have been allowed to engage in so far on this trip. You’re not thrilled about it. Trying to piece together some old man’s memoirs so that Bradley can write about it.

Bradley’s in a world of his own anyway, deep in conversation about what’s in front of him. Since he got here this morning, all that he has done in terms of being a teacher was to list eight roles and tell you to decide amongst each other who would be doing what.

Deemed the least intelligent by all of your peers simultaneously, you’re just the scribe. Taking notes on observations that they have, that Bradley could one day use when he writes about this. It’s bullshit, and it doesn’t seem fair, but you won’t argue with them on it. They already dislike you enough.

And you’re still reeling from last night. No wonder Malcolm wouldn’t speak to you for three days. No wonder he hadn’t followed you out into the snow. You’d just broken his heart.

The day of no work passes by exceptionally slowly. Your only reprieve is Pasquale, telling you stories about his mother’s farm. It’s not something that you would care much about if you were back home, but here, it’ll do.

“So, what do you think of Verona?” Pasquale asks as he flicks through an anthology. His role is more important than yours and he isn’t even here for a grade.

You shoot a look towards the end of the table and watch Bradley pull a loose pair of glasses from his pocket, setting them on the bridge of his nose and leaning closer to examine a text. He doesn’t even have a case for his glasses.

“I, uh — haven’t seen too much of it yet. I stayed in last night, and I’ve been here all day today.” You explain to him, tapping the end of your pen absently against the page.

Bradley takes the page carefully from the technician and frowns as he brings it closer to his face. When he’s serious, faint creases appear between his brows, his lips point down. His eyes narrow slightly.

“You really should. It’s the city of love, you know. You could find your husband a souvenir, maybe. When we have time off tomorrow.” Pasquale tells you with a big grin. You offer him a weak grin in return. You’re lucky to even have someone that wants to be your husband after what you did. Either way, Pasquale seems to like you.

He’s about the only person here that does.

That’s only confirmed later when Bradley steps out of the bathroom in a towel and finds Luke buttoning a salmon coloured Ralph Lauren button up.

“Going out?” Bradley questions, walking over to the desk for his cigarettes before he thinks about his clothes.

“Uh-huh. We’re all going for dinner in the city.” Luke confirms as Bradley scrunches his nose at the obnoxious cologne smell coming from that side of the room.

“All of you?” Bradley checks as he puts the cigarette between his lips and lights it. Luke scoffs, angling himself towards the awkwardly short mirror on their vanity. He rolls one sleeve up to his elbow and squints.

“I’m not inviting her. They’ll kill me.” He shakes his head, glancing over at Bradley and trying to remember how Bradley wears his button ups. Sleeves rolled, definitely.

“She wouldn’t be as bad if she had friends to keep her occupied.” Bradley notes, stepping into a pair of blue boxers and draping the damp towel over his shoulder, exhaling through the corner of his mouth.

“And I wish her the best of luck in finding some. It’s not gonna be me. Anyway, I have to go. See you later!” Luke pats Bradley’s bare shoulder and steps around him, heading for the door before they can discuss this further. It swings shut behind him.

Bradley sighs, leaning his head back towards the ceiling, the lit cigarette dangling between his index and middle fingers.

As much as he would like to avoid you after you’d thrown him off of you last night, the thought of you eating alone in your room just doesn’t sit right with him. Or, even worse, you venturing out by yourself.

The thought of last night makes him want to drive to the nearest beach, dig a reasonably sized hole, and bury his head in the sand. He’s never felt dirtier. The thought that he went further than you wanted him to.

The fact that you’re his student. He doesn’t do that. He isn’t one of the creeps that drools over the girls on campus. Christ, you’re the first girl he’s ever kissed that’s more than a year younger than him. He just needs to put it behind him.

So, he pulls on a pair of faded, light blue Levi’s 501s and a white button up that’s tolerably ironed, then heads up a flight of stairs and down the hall.

You flinch at the knocking on your door.

Bradley blinks as you tug it open moments later. Then, looks you slowly up and down. You’re wearing a cute button up pyjama set. He furrows his brows at you.

“It’s 6pm.” He points out disapprovingly. He really can’t help it. He could have told you that he actually thinks the little hearts on them are kind of cute.

“So? I don’t have anywhere to be.” You answer back, frowning up at him as always.

“Yeah. About that, uh — me either,” He’s trying not to be patronizing about this. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s taking pity on you. This isn’t necessarily pity. You also just started trying in his class and it would be a shame if you quit now. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“With you?” You gawk.

He shrugs. This is more awkward than he hoped it would be, but he can’t blame you after the way things went yesterday. “Yeah. Unless you know anyone else who’d like to join us.”

“I’ll get ready.” You decide quietly. He gives you a small nod and starts to step back.

“Alright. I’ll meet you in the lobby in… twenty?”

It’s a good thing that he gets down there early, because so do you. You’re more dressed up than he was expecting, but then, so is he. His shirt doesn’t even have any wrinkles in it today.

Bradley looks you slowly up and down as you walk towards him. He doesn’t know what to call the style of dress you’re wearing. Thin straps that tie at the shoulders, a sweetheart neckline and a lightweight georgette fabric. You’re wearing a pretty necklace that compliments the neckline, elegantly small hoop earrings with pearl drops. Those are probably real pearls.

You’ve dressed the outfit down slightly with summery loafers instead of heels. All that does is make Bradley have to tip his chin down to look you in the eye when you’re up close.

“So. Do you know a place?” You exhale, hugging your purse closer to your body. It matches your shoes.

Bradley shakes his head dumbly.

“No,” He answers quietly. Then, he realizes he’s being ridiculous. He’s been on plenty of dates, there’s no reason to be nervous. Except this isn’t a date. Because you’re getting married. And you’re his student. He clears his throat like that will help clear the momentary fog in his brain. “No. But there are a tonne of places around here. We’ll find somewhere.”

The two of you step out into the still warm evening, the sun still pretty high overhead. It’s quiet out, quieter than when you had first arrived. It makes you feel exceptionally alone next to Bradley.

As the two of you walk in a painstakingly heavy silence, you consider briefly if you should apologize for calling him an animal yesterday. After all, you were the one to kiss him. But his hands are big, and they’re heavy, and you could feel them starting to trail along your skin.

You swallow at the thought, shooting a quick glance at the back of his head. His shoulders look wide, and strong, when he’s not wearing a shirt that’s a size too big. Not only could you feel his hands starting to roam, but his tongue too. That, you remember well.

It hadn’t been forceful, or even really too intrusive. Just like he would push his tongue out to wet his lips, he had pressed close to you and gently trailed his tongue along the seam of your lips. That hadn’t ever happened before. Malcolm doesn’t kiss like that. Really, he’s your only point of reference.

So, when Bradley’s tongue had flicked knowingly against your bottom lip, maybe you had parted them. Just a little bit. But then his tongue was in your mouth, trailing against your own and — nice girls don’t kiss like that. Not any nice girl that you’ve ever known anyway.

“How’s this place look?”

You’ve been following him blindly and daydreaming about his tongue long enough now that he has led you down a side street. Peach coloured stone buildings on either side, lanterns on the walls that aren’t lit yet and a string of mostly empty restaurants.

Bradley’s standing by one covered in plants. The awning is practically entirely green with foliage. The railings outside are the same, flowers tucked into small vases on each table. You’re surprised, honestly, that he picked it. It’s pretty.

You turn your head and he’s looking right at you. The first thing to cross your mind is his hands flexing around your waist, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips.

“This is fine.”

He doesn’t untuck your chair for you, but you wouldn’t have expected him too. This is the same man that would have happily had sex with a married woman on a balcony on a work trip. God, and you let him kiss you.

Bradley catches you grimacing at your menu. “What? — Not a fan of Italian food?”

You look quickly back up at him. There’s a caught look on your face that he can’t quite place. Like you’re waiting for him to tell you that you’re in trouble. “Huh? — No. I like Italian food. What are you getting?”

Bradley looks between you and the menu, wondering if he’ll ever get to a point where he understands you.

“Uh…” He has no idea. He hasn’t even read the menu, he’s just been looking at it so that he doesn’t have to look at you. He exhales. “Do you drink wine?”

Whether the wine helps is debatable. In terms of loosening the two of you up to the point that you can actually have a conversation without burning with embarrassment, it’s a great success. In terms of professionalism and keeping up with boundaries, it is not.

You’ve both eaten, you’ve finished an entire bottle of Malbec and you’re a glass and a have into the second bottle — and Bradley’s a lot funnier tonight than he is normally. There’s a connection between those two things, you’re sure.

Even if it’s just that he’s feeling relaxed enough to actually tell you something interesting about himself for once.

“I was taking a still life art class in Tuscany,” He brings the glass to his mouth and takes a drink of the sweet, red liquid. Relaxed back into the chair, it’s like you’re watching a movie star give an interview when he smiles at you. “Staying with a family outside of Siena. They had a daughter, Maria. She was about a year and a half older than I was, and um…”

He trails, biting his cheek as he sets the glass down on the white table cloth again. The candle flickers in its glass jar between you. With one leg crossed over the other, you’re watching him with your own glass sitting in your hand and a smile on your face. The pale blue of your dress makes your skin glow, your hair is tucked back on one side with a pearl barrette. Verona looks good on you.

Bradley chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, she — she taught me a lot.”

There’s a brief moment of sense where he sits back and pushes fingers through his curls, shaking his head. Where you can see it in his face that he’s telling himself that this isn’t right. You’re his student.. He exhales amusedly, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

He shouldn’t have had his tongue in your mouth yesterday.

“You can’t leave it on that cliffhanger! Come on, I won’t tell.” You grin across the table at him and he bites his lip, visibly grimacing at the memory.

You laugh at him, watching his cheeks turn red on the other side of the table. Breeze catches your hair and brushes it back off of your shoulders. Bradley feels himself grimacing as he thinks back to that time. He can’t believe he’s sharing this with you.

“Y’know, I was in the middle of the Italian countryside but this girl was… she was experienced enough long before I met her. But her father was the town’s butcher, and he had some livestock of his own, and one day Maria and I were… fooling around in the granary…”

“Oh my god, Bradley, no.” Your eyes go wide and you sit upright, breaking into a fit of laughter again. Red faced and reliving every moment of the embarrassment he had felt on that August day eleven years ago, he can’t help but laugh with you as he covers his face with his hands.

“He came after me with a meat cleaver, screaming about how I’d, uh, deflowered his little angioletto.” Bradley admits finally from behind his hands. Even with his face covered, that red blush is already spreading down his neck and onto his chest. You watch it go between the open buttons at the top of his white button up.

The sound of your laughter in front of him is the only thing that makes him pull his hands away from his face. He’s got to see the smile that goes with it. Blinking, he’s quiet for a moment. Candlelight from the lanterns overhead and from the table bathe you in a warm light. The centuries old buildings behind you. The smile on your face. He smiles back at you.

“You know what I find hardest to believe about that story?” You ask him, smiling as you lean forwards and set the wine glass down, propping your chin against your palm.

“What’s that?”

“That you were taking an art class for an entire summer.” It just seems so out of character. He’s all about facts and analysis, using sources to come to a conclusion. Sure, his focus is literature, but so far he hasn’t seemed especially creative.

Bradley chuckles, giving a quick shrug of his broad shoulders. “I can draw. I learned some interesting stuff, got kind of good. Painting… not so much. I failed that class.”

The admission makes your jaw go slack, eyes widening in excitement. He just sits back, lips quirked in amusement as you hit the table and point across at him.

“You hypocrite! Putting love before your studies!” You accuse, grinning at him. He laughs, really laughs, leaning his head back and shaking it at you. Your mind starts to wander in the absence of his eyes on you. Him, at your age. Here in this place, taking an art class.

Maybe the two of you would have liked each other. Maybe in another universe, you would be the kind of girl to be kissing him hard in a granary on a summer day.

“I wouldn’t call what Maria and I had love.” He’s still smiling as he makes the decision. If there was ever much of a decision to make in the first place. Bradley knows what being in love feels like, both in written fact and in personal terms. Head over heels, heart-thudding devotion.

“Sex. Putting sex before your studies.” You correct yourself, still grinning as you take a sip of the wine. Bradley watches your tongue leave your mouth to catch a droplet of the aged red intoxicant from your bottom lip. He studies you from the short distance between you. Sun kissed and with the kind of smile on your face that threatens to have you spilling over into laughter again any minute now.

There’s a small silence between the two of you. The bustle of Verona at night just a few streets away. The two of you, tucked away here. It feels private. Even with the wait staff, the few other guests, Bradley hasn’t looked at anything but you in a while now.

“I just don’t get it,” Bradley says softly, staring across at you like he’s searching for his answer on your face. On a good track to finishing this second bottle of wine, you take another drink from your glass and simply raise your eyebrows at him. “Why you’re waiting until you marry this guy.”

The wine sits on your tongue, still, as you blink at him. Shit. Bradley lifts his palm in defense. This is nice, the last thing he wants is to argue with you.

“It’s none of my business, I know — and it’s your decision. I just don’t get it.”

He watches you swallow the wine in your mouth and look down at your knees, silent for a moment. While you’re thinking, Bradley’s thinking too, of a million ways to apologize and change the topic as quickly as possible.

“There are two reasons.” You tell him quietly, sounding uncertain in yourself already. Bradley’s watching you intently when you look up. “But if you tell anyone then I’ll call you a liar to your face and make this entire trip hell for you. Understood?”

His lips twitch, almost smiling. “Understood.”

“The first reason is that it’s what’s expected of me. I’m a nice girl, from a nice family and nice girls don’t have bad reputations.”

“Having sex with your long-term boyfriend would give you a bad reputation?” Bradley questions, brows drawing together. It’s times like these that you believe he grew up in California. He doesn’t understand the social lives of these North-Eastern socialite mothers.

“Yes.” You deadpan, sitting up a little bit straighter. “And the second reason is that we tried, once. And never again since.”

“Tried.” Bradley repeats to you, squinting his eyes slightly. He mulls over the word, then wets his lips with his tongue. He’s preparing to speak again.

You beat him to it, giving a calm shrug. “We were eighteen. I wasn’t the problem. That’s all I’ll say.”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. Your hot shit boyfriend couldn’t keep it up. Bradley’s smart enough not to say anything else on the matter, and instead asks you how you’re liking the book that Pasquale gave you. The two of you finish the bottle of wine in polite conversation.

Bradley calls the waiter over and asks for the bill. It sounds like he’s polite about it. Once it has been set down between the two of you, you’re both quick to reach for your wallets.

“I’ve got it.” Bradley waves you off, opening up a brown leather wallet. You look at him through your lashes, squinting dubiously.

“Since when are you a gentleman?” You play, lips quirked. A week ago, this would have started an argument. Maybe you’re growing on him. He just smiles and shoots you a quick wink, dropping the notes onto the bill.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He jokes back, starting to close his wallet on the other side of the table.

“What’s that picture in your wallet?” Your eyes linger on the black and white photo booth picture in his phone. Bradley’s gaze shoots between the picture and you. He pulls it from the sleeve and passes it across the table to you.

Briefly, your eyes widen. The man in the picture looks so much like Bradley that you think the woman in the picture must be an ex. And then you look across to the woman, and somehow he looks even more like her than he does the man.

He watches your lips quirk softly into a smile as you inspect the grainy picture. No explanation needed, you know exactly who they are.

“You look like your mom.” You tell him gently. Her blonde hair is settled into short curls in the picture, the man at her side is practically beaming. He looks happy in a way you’ve never seen Bradley match, maybe that’s it.

“Really? — Most people say I look like my dad.” He comments, resting his forearms on the table to lean over and examine the photo for himself. You smile at him, lifting the picture up and holding it next to his face.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of you. Bradley’s still, trying to keep his face neutral as you study the differences. His lips twitch. The serious look on your face just makes him smile. Once he’s smiling, your decision is made.

“You do,” You nod, glancing between him and the picture. “You’ve got your mom’s lips. And her eyes, I think. She’s really pretty.”

You look up, picture still between your index and thumb. He’s pretty. Tanned from days strolling around northern Italy, the golden colour to his skin just makes his freckles more pronounced. It makes his eyes less dark, more of a golden honey colour. Everything, just a little bit warmer.

Bradley’s silent for a moment, watching you watch him. You can see the idea cross his mind. He smiles and reaches out for his picture back, pushing up from the table as he sets it into the wallet.

“You want to see something cool?” He pushes the wallet back into the pocket of his faded blue jeans and the look in his eye tells you that this night is far from over.

Your instinct should probably be to reconcile with your fiancé. To apologize, maybe. But, Malcolm told you to come back with stories to tell, and hiding in your hotel room isn’t much of a story.

The smile on your face is answer enough, Bradley nudges his elbow into yours and rests his hand against the small of your back to guide you in the right direction.

“It’s not that far, I promise. Across the bridge and up some steps.” Bradley tells you, dropping his hand from your back once you’re walking at his side.

He’s right. It’s really not that long of a walk at all. Not with him being your tour guide every step of the way. He walks you across the Ponte Pietra, which is a stone bridge built in 100 BC, making it the oldest bridge in Verona.

From there, it’s a short walk through some more paved streets and up some steps to the Castel San Pietro. Of course, not without first hearing a brief recount of its history. Bradley doesn’t really know much about this spot, much more than he has picked up as a visitor in past visits anyway.

Still, he’s a firm believer in leaving a girl impressed on the first date. He’s able to answer every single one of your questions with ease. As he had hoped, you sit at his side on a stone wall, facing the city, impressed.

It’s after a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you that you ask him a question of your own.

“Do you believe in fate?” Your cheek presses into the muscle of his shoulder, staring out over the lights of the city. Bradley exhales an amused noise from beside you. Like the notion itself is something to laugh at.

“No. Do you?”

“I haven’t made my mind up yet,” You tell him, kicking your feet just slightly. There’s more of a breeze up here, a slight chill now that the sun is down. “Plenty of intelligent people believe in fate.”

He nods at your side. “Of course.”

“Shakespeare did. Romeo and Juliet’s all about fate.”

He makes a sound, but doesn’t shake his head. “It’s about human will and making the wrong choice.”

Bradley has a way of replying when it comes to discussions like this that makes it sound like he’s correcting you when he’s just stating his opinion. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead lift your head to look at him.

“Okay, so the prologue of the play tells the audience exactly what’s going to happen. It doesn’t just foreshadow, it explicitly tells us that the two families hate each other and that the lovers will die. Right?”

“Right.” He confirms to you with a brief nod.

“‘Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife’. The feud would never have ended if they weren’t to fall in love and die. The entire structure of the play is this tragic fate that neither one can escape from.”

Bradley’s eyes flicker over your face. He turns his head towards the city and smiles. “I know. I wanted you to explain it and I feel like I can’t get a straight answer from you unless I piss you off sometimes.”

Your mouth gapes. Bradley flinches as you jab a finger into his ribs and laugh at his side, making him turn back towards you grinning. He chuckles along, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you just quoted Shakespeare at me. I’ve been busting my balls trying to get you a C in my class and you’ve got passages from Shakespeare memorized.” He muses. When he turns his attention back to the city this time, he leans back on his palms to observe it. Your cheek presses softly into his shoulder once more.

He feels you squeeze closer to him for warmth.

“My grades weren’t ever bad. I still got into an Ivy League. I’m not dumb.” It’s playful in the way that you say it, but you’re not joking.

“No, you’re not dumb.” Bradley agrees. You’re just wasting your potential on being nothing but that kid’s wife. He keeps his mouth shut. Even though the two bottles of wine are telling him that you need to hear it, he’s got enough sense not to.

Bradley lifts his palm and drapes his arm around your shoulder. You shift closer, pressing into the warmth of his torso. Silently, the two of you look out over the city.

You set the curve in your English literature classes once upon a time. Back when you were still trying. Your work was showcased at school fundraisers. It’s easy to convince yourself that you have wholeheartedly believed in every decision you have made so far. That at this age, you have no regrets.

If that were true, you would have been happy the first time that Malcolm had proposed. You wouldn’t have kissed Bradley. You wouldn’t have done it again yesterday.

This doesn’t feel like the right decision either. It can’t be, when it would cost you everything back home.

A light turning on in a bedroom across the river catches your eye. From here, you can’t see much other than her silhouette. A woman, changing alone in her room.

Turning your attention instead towards the sky, you think about the fate Shakespeare wrote about. Ill-fated love that ultimately leads to death, but is inevitable.

Malcolm wouldn’t lead you to your death. Life with him would be safe and comfortable. Close to home with a pleasant income — in-laws that get along with your parents just fine. And yet, that fate does nothing but make your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“You know that Shakespeare wasn’t the first to write about the Montagues and the Capulets?” Bradley interrupts the silence and almost makes you jump out of your skin. Your fiddle with your cuticles, staring down at your knees.

“Really?”

“Dante.” Bradley answers quietly. “This poem he wrote in the fourteenth century that he wrote, the Divine Comedy, he wrote about two warring Italian families. The Montagues and the Capulets.”

His thumb strokes softly at your shoulder as he nods his head. “Like two hundred and fifty years before Shakespeare did.”

“So?”

“So?” Bradley scoffs, pulling his arm back from your shoulder and squeezing playfully at the nape of your neck. You turn and find him looking at you. Your lips twitch. “So, I’m sharing a fun fact with you. So. You’ve got an attitude, you know that?”

The sun is down now and the thin tie straps, the soft georgette fabric, neither does much to ward the chill of the evening air from up where you’re sitting. Even pressed into Bradley’s side, the cold grazes you suddenly and makes you shiver.

“Come on. Let’s go.” He squeezes your nape playfully once more and gestures his head back the way you had come. Standing up, he almost drapes his arm around your shoulder again out of instinct. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his faded Levi’s.

Neither one of you really says anything, but the walk is far from quiet. It’s like he can hear you thinking. The soles of your cream coloured loafers are quiet along the paved streets, you trail just slightly behind him. He knows you’re just taking in the scenery, but it’s not in his nature to let someone walk alone in a foreign city after dark. He finds himself slowing to the point that he’s dawdling by your side.

“You know we have three more days here, right?” He tells you.

“I know, it’s just pretty,” You answer back, not bothering to turn your gaze back towards him. He watches you taking everything in. “Why, you have somewhere to be?”

“No, but you’re cold.” Bradley points out.

You just roll your eyes and stop walking to correct him. He bumps his shoulder into yours and grabs either side of your waist with both hands, guiding you abruptly forwards.

“Don’t argue. You’re shivering.” He leans forward to tell you softly. Biting your cheek, you push your elbow back into his stomach. He scoffs and nudges you forwards again. His hands are still on your waist when he’s guiding you through the hotel lobby and up the stairs.

Your floor is one up from his, but neither one of you says a word when he skips his all together and keeps walking. Bradley wouldn’t dare call this a date, but he has never let a woman walk home alone after a first date. He walks you to your door wordlessly.

As he opens his mouth to thank you, and tell you goodnight, he watches you pluck the silver key from your bag and push it into the lock. The latch clicks compliantly and you walk inside, leaving it open behind you. Bradley glances down at the threshold, and back at you.

“Here,” You breathe out, crossing to the small dressing table in the corner and picking up the sheets of lined paper there. Bradley rests his forearm against the doorframe, apparently taking the vampire approach after his overstep yesterday. “I finished the practice exam.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He blinks. The expectation is that you’ll turn and bring the paper over to him any second now. Instead, you turn your head and look at him over your shoulder.

“Are you going to come look?”

Fuck. Bradley nods. He swallows and dips his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walks inside, a silent reminder to keep his hands to himself. You had told him no yesterday, and one mistake is more than enough. He’s old enough to know better.

His shoulder brushes yours as he leans around you to get a look at the paper. Reaching out, he rests his thumb beside the line that the first question begins. Glancing back, you watch his eyes scan the paper for a few moments.

“The first three are right.” Bradley notes. All that he can focus on is your perfume. The sweet notes, the expensive, layered undertones. You turn towards him, sitting down on the edge of the vanity. He swallows.

“When you failed that art class, did you know you were going to fail it?” You ask him. It’s eating you up, the thought that this might all be for nothing. You don’t know what you’ll do if you fail again. This time, it’ll hurt that much more. It’s one thing to fail because you hadn’t even attended. To fail after you have actually tried, that’s another thing entirely.

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes out, offering you a smile. He nods his head just to provide additional confirmation. “I couldn’t even paint a sunflower. I knew.”

For once, he doesn’t take a shot at the effort you’ve put into this class. You’re trying. He sees that.

“But you could draw.” You recite back to him.

“Yeah.” Bradley smiles. The top three buttons on his shirt are undone, you can see that he’s still wearing that gold necklace. His father’s necklace, his dad is wearing it in that photo. His cheeks are terracotta red, warm.

“Could you draw me?” Maybe it’s not the best effort at flirting, but you don’t have much experience with that. Your first kiss was with the man that you intend to marry. You shouldn’t flirt with him. Most days you’d rather hit him than kiss him.

But, your bed is right behind him and yesterday he had you pressed into that mattress by a fraction of his weight, and his hands on your waist, in your hair. You inhale softly, met with the increasingly familiar scent of his cologne.

Bradley doesn’t touch you, but he might as well have. His hand curls around the vanity beside your knee. He leans in just a little closer and gives a small shake of his head, smiling like something’s funny. “Sorry, honey, my specialty was human form. Posing nude.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, see how old-fashioned you really are. Maybe you’re growing used to that by now, it doesn’t take you a second to come up with a comeback.

“Did Maria teach you that?”

Bradley’s eyes don’t move, staring right at you with that smirk on his face still. He chuckles softly, then taps your knee softly. “Alright. I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you—“

“Wait,” You close your eyes and ransack your brain looking for what comes next. You know he’s still standing there, you can’t hear him moving. “What, um, what did she teach you?”

Bradley’s not stupid. Nor is he oblivious to the fact that for one reason or another, women seem to like him. He’s used to being flirted with. And he knows exactly what you’re asking of him. He’s smart enough not to tell you that the things he did with Maria would have you clutching your pearls.

Still, he’s not going to tell you no. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he looks downwards at your knees politely pressed together. Bradley reaches out tentatively, glancing up at your face as he curls his fingers into the hollow of your knee. Your eyes are just on his face, compliant as he tugs your leg just slightly to the side to make room for him to step closer.

Between your knees now, Bradley’s hand abandons your leg. He brings both up to cup your jaw, angling your head so that you’re looking up at him. He exhales softly. You close your eyes in anticipation. He doesn’t keep you waiting long.

He leans in close and kisses you softly, tenderly. Nothing like yesterday. It’s slow, just his lips on yours. Once more, another. Then, he pulls back and gently strokes his thumbs across each of your cheeks.

He swallows softly, opening his eyes. His intention is to search your face for doubt, annoyance — whatever had caused your freak out yesterday. His mouth twitches. Your eyes remain closed, lips pursed ever so slightly, waiting for him to kiss you again.

You lift your hands cautiously from your sides, resting them against his stomach over the cotton of his button up. Bradley kisses you again, just as soft. Building into it with gradually modern generous pecks. His hands keep your face exactly where he wants it as yours ball loosely into the fabric of his shirt.

This time when he pulls back, you chase after him, a small sound slipping your lips. Bradley bites his cheek, tenderly tracing over your jaw, reminding himself to be polite.

“You really want me to show you more?” He murmurs, lips grazing your cheek. Your daren’t open your eyes, fearing that it will give away your entire being. If you look at him, he’ll be able to tell how much your heart is pounding in your chest.

He’s already got a good idea, given the fact that you still haven’t uncurled your hands from his shirt.

“Mhm.” You manage, quiet.

He leans forwards once more and kisses you again, soft, slow. You lean into him, fighting a frown as he pulls away all too soon.

“Open your mouth, just a little, sit still.” With your eyes closed, all you’ve got is his voice. You’re okay with that. It still makes you shiver. You obey, parting your lips just a fraction.

Bradley’s eyes fall down to your lips. He blinks, studying the plush skin. But again, he doesn’t keep you waiting long. He presses closer, as close as he can get to the vanity, and tilts his head just slightly. He kisses your bottom lip, trailing it with his tongue this time.

Your thighs bracket his as you try to press them together. The next kiss he comes in for, it’s the same thing. His tongue doesn’t dare venture into your mouth, or brush yours. He’s just teasing you.

His hands are still cupping your jaw, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Then, finally, he kisses you again, deeper this time. His tongue dips just a bit further, slowly, gradually.

You’re taking the sit still instruction a little bit too literally.

“Copy what I’m doing. Just slowly, like that.” He mumbles against your mouth, his lips on yours again the second that he’s done speaking. Slowly, gradually, and his tongue touches yours once more.

It strokes along the tip of yours and curls just slightly. Nothing to complex to keep up with. One of his hands slides from your jaw to the nape of your neck, sliding his fingers into your roots.

Your tongue lets his do most of the work. He’s surprised when you’re brave enough to actually copy him and curl the tip of your tongue into his. All too soon, he pulls back and goes right back to the pecking. More urgent this time, still he finds time to be tender. Soft, with you.

And yet, you pull away from him with a soft frown.

“What? — What’s the matter?” Bradley’s face creases with concern, his thumb swiping softly over your jaw as he looks for the answer on your face.

“You stopped. Was I doing it wrong?” You ask meekly.

He almost smiles, but decides against it. A sincere shake of his head works instead. He leans in and kisses you once. “No. No, you weren’t doing it wrong. I just… like to go between tongue and no tongue, I guess.”

Bradley sounds uncertain. He hasn’t ever had to explain himself like this before. This is clearly a foreign process to the both of you.

“Okay.” You breathe out. As long as you’ve got the hang of it, you like the sound of that too. You sit upright, stretching up to kiss him again. Bradley leans down. You are rendered silent once more as he kisses your forehead.

“I should go.” Before this goes any further. Before you ask me for more, because I’m really not sure I could say no. Bradley blinks as you look up at him. He almost leans in one last time.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, barely a whisper. He’s more than close enough to hear you perfectly. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest. “Okay.”

He swallows. “I… I had a really nice time with you tonight. Thank you.”

You’re acutely aware that he still has one of those giant paws of his on the back of your neck. That he’s still standing between your knees. That he’s close enough to kiss if you reached for him.

“So did I.” You answer.

Bradley trails his thumb down until he reaches the top of your spine. He finally lets go, dropping his hand back down to his side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Right.” You agree, curling your fingers around the edge of the vanity as he takes a step away from you. Bradley offers you a small smile, and takes another big step.

And you leave it at that. He leaves, closing the door to your hotel room behind him, wandering back down to his own room. He should probably feel guilty.

Any guilt that he should feel hasn’t hit him yet. It won’t. If it doesn’t go any further than teaching you what french kissing is — then, what’s there to be guilty about?

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Pretty Little Letter’s

Dbf Negan Smith x Fem Reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard work. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, I took the John Winchester idea and made Negan a mechanic, obviously not canon at all, vague mentions of sex, but no actual smut in this chapter. There will be in later chapters though so 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.6K (sorry it’s a long one)

This is part one of two chapters in this mini series.

_______________________________________

Tomorrow was the day, the day you’ve been waiting for, the day you were leaving for an adventure. After 4 years of hard work and dedication, you had graduated Yale University with honours. You’d surpassed anything you felt you could accomplish, with the amazing support of your dad, who had raised you single-handedly. He has supported you throughout your life from scrapped knees and boo boos as a child, to finishing school with the grades you needed to get into Yale.

It was a dream you’d always had, even as a child. You’d pinned up pictures of the college on your wall, telling your dad ‘one day I’ll be here!’ When you received the letter you’d ripped it open with such ferocity, your dad was sure you’d shred your hands. Only to crumple to the floor in floods of tears, walking towards you he settles next to you pulling you in for a big hug, “Hey don’t worry baby girl, it’s not the end of the world we still have other letters coming, other options. No matter what I’m soo proud of you my darling girl” he cooed. You shook your head no, trying to steady your breath “No d…..ad” you stuttered “We did it, I got in, I did it dad! I got in” you continued through staggered breaths, he reached over and pulled it from your grasp reading the words carefully, his hand clamped over his mouth in shock. He started crying too, pulling you in tighter, letting his tears fall freely.

Being the amazing father he was, hours later he was on the phone with his oldest and closest friend Negan, explaining you’d got in, you’d done it, and if Negan could look for a house up there for you both, Negan lived in a small town in Connecticut not too far from Yale. He’d instantly agreed, finding you a lovely 3 bedroom home only a street away from himself. Your dad had been there behind you every step of your life, and he wasn’t about to let this one be any different.

So you packed up your life, making the lengthy trip from Virgina to Connecticut.

The experience has been amazing, you’ve loved every second of college. You came home every night excitedly animating your days to your dad, and many days to Negan too. He would be over often for dinners, you guys also going over his frequently too, the three of you spent many evenings together BBQs, football games, board game nights, you name it. You’d spent a lot of the last 4 years with Negan, he was a great friend to your dad. They’d kept in contact when he had moved from Virgina with his wife, because she wanted to be able to commute to New York easily. She took to the big corporate job like a fish to water, but she began coming home to Negan less and less, giving excuses about early starts and having to stay in some fancy hotel. Unfortunately one day when he made a trip to the city to surprise her, he’d found her rolling around the bed with her boss.

He called later that day to tell your dad what happened, your dad being the great person he is dropped everything and came up here to be with him, leaving you with your grandma for a few weeks.

After a lengthy divorce he’d stuck it out in the sleepy town, deciding he didn’t want to upheave his life once again. You hadn’t known Negan too well then, your dad called him often and you knew his voice, that deep rumbling voice, from their calls. You’d even answered the phone to him a few times, making polite small talk until your dad could take over. But he’d moved to Connecticut when you were only 2 years old, so you’d never really gotten to know him.

That all changed when you moved to start Yale, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t developed an enormous crush on the older man. Gods was he beautiful, he was funny sometimes making you actually cry from laughter. He was kind, loyal, owned his own mechanics garage, he was an all round great guy, and you had no idea why no one had snapped him up yet. Though secretly you were thankful no one had, because the mere thought stirred an ugly pit of jealousy in your stomach.

But tonight things were perfect, you were having a farewell dinner with the two men in your life, sat around the coffee table on your living room floor, eating pizza, heads thrown back in laughter as you whoop your dads ass at monopoly.

“Oh come on y/n not another hotel” your dad pleads playfully.

“I’m afraid so dad, told you the light blue were worth buying, the houses are cheap to buy, I can get as many as I want” you goad in giggles.

“She has you there man! I’d add another to Euston Road if I were you sweetheart! Finish him off” Negan jests.

“Don’t encourage her!” Your dad grumbles, causing you and Negan to roll in laughter even more.

“You know what I think I will” you reply adding another hotel.

Your dad takes his next roll landing on one of your hotel properties,

“Oh shit man! That’s you done isn’t it” Negan teases. Your dad stands then playfully tips the board over, making you gasp in mock shock before falling into giggles once again, in the moment you end up leaning your head against Negan’s shoulder.

“Right that’s it I’m done with this silly game, who wants another beer” your dad laughs.

“Me” you say, Negan nodding in unison his breath slightly shaken from your head still leaning against his shoulder, like it belongs there which in his mind it does. Man he’s dreading you leaving for a year, every time he thinks about it, there’s a constricting feeling in his heart. He brings his arm around you pulling you closer for a second, taking a moment to bask in your warmth. He gives you a quick squeeze, before moving to start packing away the game.

You watch him with a warm smile on your face, my goodness were you going to miss him. But you needed this, you needed to stand on your own two feet and experience some living. You also needed to get over this silly crush, he was 20 years older than you for Christ sake, he probably looked at you like a niece. He definitely wouldn’t return your affections, so you should go and clear your head. See some of the world, meet people and have experiences.

They always say you discover yourself while travelling alone.

You wanted to see if that was true.

But leaving these two behind would be hard, even if it wasn’t forever a year was still a long time. “So sweetheart your really leaving us tomorrow?” Negan asks, “Yup! Just like Bilbo Baggins I’m off on an adventure” you giggle, trying to make light it it, when in fact your heart is sinking at the thought. “Not gonna be the same without you here darlin’” he affirms, there’s a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and those beautiful dimples aren’t showing. For a second you wonder if he returns your feelings, but that wouldn’t make any sense so you push the idea out of your mind.

Your dad arrives back 3 beers in his hands, “I can’t believe my baby girl is going out into the world tomorrow, you promise to write to me every week yeah??” Your dad asks. “You know I can just text you? And call you right?” You answer, “Yeah you can call too, but I want hand written letters to have a part of you still coming home every week” he replies voice sounding emotional, this was a big step for him you had never been away from your dad before. Getting up you give him a big hug, “Ok dad I’ll write to you every week and I’ll send you postcards, so you can see where I’ve been!” You promise. “Yeah that sounds great baby girl” he affirms.

After your dad passes out snoring on the couch, you clean up the pizza boxes with Negan. While you’ve moved on to clearing up the kitchen he stands in the doorway watching you, “You know sweet cheeks, I’d love for some of those hand written letters too” he expresses. Looking up at him in shock, you ask “Really?”, “Yeah I want to hear everything your doing, plus it would be nice to have a part of you here with me too, like I said sweetheart it won’t be the same here without ya” he replies stepping closer, gently brushing a hair out of your face, hazel eyes bearing into you. “Ok Negan I’ll write to you too”, “Good” he sighs, leaning in he kisses your head wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “Gonna miss ya kid”, “Yeah I’ll miss you too” you reply.

Letting him out the door you say your goodbyes, before tucking a blanket over your dad.

This was going to be hard……

_______________________________________

You’ve been travelling a week now, slowly making your way down south to Florida. You made sure to stop for a few nights at your grandmas, you loved spending time with her, just like your dad she was a sweet soul, and you’d really enjoyed some long chats and a homemade meal.

The last morning of your stay you popped by taking a look at the house you grew up in, you always wondered if your mother had ever stopped by to see you. Missing you because you’d moved away, would she be proud that you’d made it to Yale, probably not. She’s never cared enough to call, she upped and left the day after you were born. Just left you in the hospital, for your dad to find when he came back in after some rest at home. Leaving your dad to step into both parents roles, which he took on without complaint bringing you up in a home full of love and laughter, you were beyond blessed to have been given him as your dad.

With that you tucked those thoughts away, your dad and grandma love you, are proud of you and support you. You didn’t need anyone else, well except maybe Negan.

By the end of your first week you’d made it to the Croatan National Forest, in North Carolina. You decided to stop here and see the sights, maybe do some hiking, some swimming on the coast. You found a cute little beach rental you booked for a few nights, it looked out to the river which joined the ocean. It was peaceful here, kids had all gone back to school and the soft autumn breeze was setting a chill in the air. So the beach was practically empty, with the exception of a few dog walkers.

Dark skies started settling in, greys and blacks filling the vast space, the clouds looked as if they were rolling towards you. A storm was coming which emitted some excitement in you, to sit there and watch them was one of your most favourite things to do, especially if the lightning was close and you could see it crack across the sky.

Settling in the bay of the bedroom window, you looked out at the water, pulling out your notebook you got to writing your dad his first letter. Folding it up you sealed in in an envelope, adding your home address and a stamp. Then you began to write Negan’s,

Dear Negan,

I’ve made it to North Carolina, to the Croatan National Forest. I’m staying in a really cute little beach house, which was cheap due to the holidays being over. I’m currently sat watching a storm roll in, windows open enjoying the breeze.

I stopped to see Grandma on the way down, she sends her love to Dad and you. She still hasn’t changed bless her, I also stopped by my old neighbourhood to see the house. I didn't feel as sad seeing it as I thought I would. I think that’s because you’ve made our lives so much more incredible. I miss you both it’s odd being without Dad for the first time, but it’s also strange being without you too now. You’ve ingrained yourself into my life now and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I think I’ll take a swim tomorrow if the weather allows it, I may even swim in the rain if I can. So there you go, you can picture me dancing under the storm.

Yours truly

Y/N

Xx

You sealed the letter, writing his address and placing another stamp. Maybe you poured a bit of how you feel about him in there but it felt good to let some of it out, like it was healing a small part of you.

You ran down to the post box before the rain hit, dropping the letters in and running back to your temporary home. Closing the door just as the torrential downpour started. “Phew that was close” you giggle. That evening you sat in your window watching the storm, the bright lightning cracked above illuminating the beach. Rain pouring and winds blowing, while you stayed cozy eating your soup admiring natures fierce show.

When morning came around it was still raining, though the storm had passed. You threw on your bathing suit and braved the weather, running into the water with a loud gasp as the cool liquid surrounded you. You laid back watching the rain fall from the sky, in that moment you’d never felt so free.

_______________________________________

Back home Negan received his letter a few days later, he’d been checking his post box every single day, like a man deranged. ‘Finally’ he thought tearing open the envelope before he even made in back inside. Sitting down at his dining room table he read your words, smile adorning his features, dimples pulling deep. ‘Ingrained himself into your life, and you wouldn’t change it for the world’ for the first time he allowed himself to hope, that just maybe you returned his feelings.

Was this your way of telling him so? He didn’t know but he needed to find out, he’d have to play this safe though, edge it out of you slowly, god only knows what would happen if he assumed wrong, you’d tell your Dad no doubt, he’d loose you and his best friend in one go, he couldn’t risk that.

Pulling out his phone he sent you a message,

‘Hey sweetheart,

Thank you for my little letter, I hope you had fun swimming and dancing in the storm, though I also hope you stayed safe.

You’ve also ingrained yourself into my life angel face, came into it like a spitfire but I wouldn’t have it any other way either. Enjoy your next week, just make sure you stay safe.

Negan

Xxx

He sent the text, and waited under baited breath for a response. He almost jumped out of his chair when his phone pinged.

Hi Negan

Your welcome, I can assure you I am staying safe, I’m checking my oil and water levels too, as promised. Car is running smooth still :)

‘Spitfire’? I wouldn’t say that! But I’m glad you wouldn’t have it any other way because your stuck with me now.

I’ll send you your next letter same time this week, till then ……

Y/N

Xxx

He smiles to himself once more, you most certainly are a spitfire. But you’re also the best thing to ever come into his life, he hopes one day he’ll be able to tell you so.

_______________________________________

End of your second week, it’s rushed by so fast and you can’t believe your already in Jacksonville Florida. Today your sat on the beach it’s much warmer here, no sign of any autumn breeze and the sunny weather bringing many people to the beach. Your currently writing to your dad again while listening to the soft waves crashing onto the shore. Finishing his letter you once again start writing one to Negan,

Dear Negan,

What a week I’ve had! Can you believe I’m already in Florida? Today I’m sat on Jacksonville beach watching the waves crashing. It’s much busier here and much warmer, apparently there’s a swell coming in tomorrow so I may try surfing. I’ll be sure to send you both some hilarious pictures, of me falling on my face.

I’m staying two nights here in a hotel overlooking the beach, the buildings here on the coast are like mini skyscrapers. I think they may be too tall, it ruins the feel of the place. My next move may be Orlando Disney, I’ve always wanted to go! May even get made into a Disney princess! Because hey you only live once, which one should I go for?

I’m starting to really miss you both, how’s my dad coping? I hope my boys are looking after each other,

Well I’m going to go find somewhere for dinner, speak soon.

Y/N

Xxx

Getting up you brush the gritty sand off your legs, setting out on a mission to find somewhere to post these letters. After exploring a few busy streets, you see it, Bingo! You spot the blue metal of the US postal boxes, slotting in your letters before finding a diner to eat dinner in.

Back home 48 hours later Negan received your second letter, “my boys” he reads, the thought of being yours makes his cheeks flush, and his heart quicken. He feels like a teenage boy again at 52 years old, he’d be yours in a heartbeat if you’d ask him. But he knows it’s out of the question, your his best friends kid, and what would you want with an old man? Your so beautiful and he doesn’t feel he’s got much to offer you at this point of his life. Even so he will allow himself to enjoy these letters, living in a little daydream for a while.

After pacing his kitchen for a good ten minutes he decides he has to talk to you, the words “my boys” still swirling around his head. Giving in and pulling out his phone he sends you a text,

Hey sweetheart

I remember Jacksonville well, I visited about 15 years ago now. I went to a work conference there. Your right the buildings are too tall beside the ocean, definitely not one of my favourite beaches.

Surfing? How did that turn out I’m still waiting on this photo.

“Your boys hey” I like the sound of that darlin. But yeah I’m making sure your dad cooks for himself, and I fixed his lawn mower for him, so your gardens looking a lot better now!

Make sure you continue to stay safe sweetheart, I hope you enjoy Disney, but you don’t need to dress up to be a princess you’ve always been one.

Negan

Xx

Ping

His heart is beating rapidly in his chest as he opens your reply,

Hey Negan

Actually I did ok surfing, I managed to stand up and everything lol

Xx

Ping

He opens the slightly blurry image of you standing up on a large longboard, big smile on your face. You look so beautiful and so happy.

Ping

So as you can see, not a complete disaster! I went to Disney world yesterday, it was great fun but all in all too many people about. I’ve set off west now aiming in a general direction of New Orleans, as I’ve always wanted to go. I think it may take a week or two to get there though!

And don’t worry I will be careful I promise. You’ll always be my boys

Y/n

Xxx

He smiles to himself you were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Ok sweetheart

Look at you! You’re a natural! Well I’ll wait with bated breath until your next letter, I think you should send two a week I Think one a week is just too long to wait for sweet cheeks.

Negan

Xx

Ping

Ok Negan

Two it is, I’m off to bed now

Night

Y/N

Xx

He grins, two letters a week, he feels all important now. He wonders if your dad will also get two letters a week? Or if he really is special enough to be the only one.

_______________________________________

A few weeks pass in a blur, you keep your promise to Negan and write to him twice a week. Not only that you both text constantly and have started video calling frequently too. Your currently walking through the vibrant streets of New Orleans with your phone in hand, on video call to Negan as you show him the current festivities happening. “Look at the colours Negan! I’ve never seen anywhere so bright and colourful, and the musics been incredible.” You ramble off excitedly, “Yeah I can see that sweetheart, I wish I was with you right now it looks incredible” he replies.

“I wish you were with me too, it’s amazing! I’ll have to bring dad here at some point.” You gush,

“Yeah maybe we should all plan a trip” he replies and you nod along, “Yeah that sounds good!”

“So where are you off too next?” Negan asks, “Well I’ve booked to stay two weeks on this women only ranch just outside Austen Texas, so I’m going to enjoy a slower pace for a couple of weeks, I’ll get to go riding everyday and read books in the sun” you answered, “That sounds like a good plan sweetheart, you haven’t slowed down in weeks.” Negan hums, truth be told you were looking forward to slowing down for a bit, it’s been a full on couple of months, and as much as you’ve enjoyed it you’ve burnt yourself out a little.

Back at your hotel room you and Negan chat over video call for hours, you admire him as he throws his head back in laughter, while laying back on his couch. You're sat cross legged on your bed, window open so you can see and hear the ongoing festivities outside, the cheerful jazz music floating around your room.

“I can’t believe I’ve been away two months now, it’s gone so fast”, it hasn’t felt fast to Negan, it’s felt like every hour has dragged on without you home. Nights with your dad are much quieter, and your presence is constantly missed. “Yeah sweetheart” he agrees half heartedly, and you sense the change in his tone. “Everything ok?” You ask, voice laced with concern. “Of course darlin we just miss you is all” Negan admits.

“I miss you too you know, life on my own has definitely been quiet. It’s why I enjoy these video calls so much, it almost feels like your here, like it’s a normal Friday night Just without the beers and pizza” you laugh.

His heart warms at your confession, slowly over these weeks he’s noticed little things. The way you look at him, or the way your face lights up when you answer his calls, your letters have become sweeter too. He allows himself to truly hope, that maybe you return his feelings. He’s in half a mind to jump in the car and meet you on your travels, take you into his arms and lay it all out, tell you how he feels and hope you say you feel them too. But his mind always falls back to your Dad, his best friend of nearly 30 years. How would he take it, would he ever talk to him again? Would he forbid him ever seeing you again? It’s these thoughts that stop him ever taking anything further than flirty remarks, and terms of endearment, but god does he wish he could just take you in his arms, feel your skin against his own as he spends all night worshiping your body like the goddess you are.

“Negan…..Negan are you with me” your voice cuts through his daydreaming, “Yeah sorry sweetheart, must be getting tired it’s past this old man’s bedtime” he teases. You huff out a small giggle “You’re not old Negan” you reply. “I’m 52 darlin, I’m nearly at the end of middle aged” Negan groans, you shake your head in disagree “Nope I don’t agree”, “Well I’ll take that” Negan laughs, “We should get some sleep though, it’s like 1am! Night Negan”

“Night Beautiful”

As the call ends you sit there shocked, that’s new, he just called you beautiful! He’s never used that pet name before, usually it’s darlin or sweetheart. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. You fall asleep that night with the smile never leaving, listening to the distant hum of jazz.

_______________________________________

The ranch is beautiful, picturesque like a postcard. You feel like you’ve stepped into some country and western film, you’re currently sat under a large tree watching the horses gallop about the pens. There’s a few other women staying at the ranch with you, and you’ve enjoyed getting to know them. One is a lot older than the rest of you, her name’s Frances, she’s been cooking for you all and mothering everyone.

It’s been nice, you weren’t used to a motherly woman being in your life. You’ve told her so too, told her about your life and that your dad raised you alone. She’s been a great listener, she brought up her two sons and how she couldn’t understand a mother ever leaving her children, she could never. When she asked if there was anyone special in your life, you’d bitten your lip and done your best to redirect the conversation. After much convincing you’d told her there was a man who held your affections, but he was much older than you. So it wasn’t an easy situation, but she’d told you there’s no age restrictions on love, so long as both parties involved were adults and felt the same.

It lead you to hope, that maybe you and Negan could maybe one day be something. You were starting to also hope that maybe he felt the same way you did, he had called you beautiful after all.

Taking out a pen and paper you began writing your letter’s.

Dear Negan

This ranch is beautiful, even in the sweltering heat it’s like something out of an old movie, there’s other women here too so it’s been nice to get to know them and make some friends.

I’m currently watching this black horse run through the field, he’s almost ethereal the way he moves. He looks so free, no worries in the world, and I fell like I’m witnessing his wildest joys and deepest secrets.

There’s a lovely lady here called Frances, she’s been like the mother hen to everyone. I’ve had many chats with her, especially about mum. She couldn’t understand how she just left me, said she never could leave her children. I do wonder if she ever thinks about me at all? Maybe she does, or maybe she just moved on with her life and never looked back.

I talked about you too, how important you are in my life too. I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Anyways I’ll send another letter soon.

With Love

Y/N

Xxx

After sealing the letter you wondered if you should send it, had you made things too obvious? Maybe you needed too to see if there was something there? With a deep breath you dropped it in the postal box, placing it to the back of your mind for now, before joining the rest of the girls for the activities for the day.

_______________________________________

Just two days later Negan received your letter, reading the words he felt incredibly sad. You were hurting he could tell, he doesn’t understand how your mother left you either, she’d never know how incredible the girl she brought into the world turned out to be.

Because you were, you’re incredible. So kind, loyal, brave with a determination he’s never witnessed before, and you were so beautiful beyond compare. So yeah she was the one who had missed out, missed watching that baby girl become the most amazing woman. Something himself and your Dad had never taken for granted, even only really getting to know you these last four years, he’s seen you change and thrive becoming the amazing person you are today.

He’s glad you’re making friends along the way though, he was worried you were starting to get a bit lonely being alone for so long. Still the thought of coming to the ranch himself and holding you in his arms was so compelling right now, you were sad and he felt such a great need to make you smile, or hold you as you cried. You deserve the world, he hopes he can show you that someday.

His heart lurches at the thought of you talking about him, and thinking about him? Thinking how? Is that a confession? Or just you missing home? He would call you later, see what he can coax out of you.

You were sat on the porch watching the sunset, the sunsets down south were the most beautiful you’d ever seen, the oranges and yellows shine over the whole landscape, painting the buildings and your skin in a warm orange glow. As you were admiring the skies your phone started buzzing, removing it from your jeans pocket you smile seeing Negan's name flash up.

“Hey Negan, how are you? Sorry it’s been a little while since we’ve called, I’ve noticed only certain areas get signal” you explain as you answer the video call.

Smiling at you “That’s ok sweetheart, I understand, you’re out in the sticks no one gets phone signal there. How are you doing darlin? I got your letter today and I thought I’d call you”

“Yeah I’m ok, I felt sad for a little while thinking about mum, but I’ve realised how lucky I am to have the people I do in my life. I have people who love me and some people don’t have that.” You admit.

“It’s ok to feel sad though sweetheart, what she did to you wasn’t right and it’s ok to be hurt by that, but yeah you are loved, sometimes I don’t think you know how much your loved sweet girl, your dad, your grandma, myself, we adore you, you’re not alone not ever and I hope you know that.” Negan assures.

Tears well up in your eyes, you swallow a large gulp before answering him “Thanks Negan I needed to hear that” you admit.

“Anytime baby girl”

A small creak behind alerts you of someone’s presence, “Sorry love I just came to tell you dinners ready, if you’d like to join us” Frances explains.

“Oh yeah please, I’ll just be a moment” you answer, she nods walking back into the barn.

“Well it looks like I have dinner to attend” you laugh, “Ok beautiful, enjoy your dinner I’ll speak to you soon” “Yeah speak soon” you smile, hanging up the phone you stand up and dust yourself off before heading inside.

Frances meets you at the doors with a knowing smile, “Was that him?” She asks, blushing you look downwards, “Yeah that’s him” you admit. She nods before saying “Marry that man girl, if he looks at you like that, and speaks to you like that, you’d be a fool not too”. You gasp “How much did you hear?” She gives a gentle laugh, “Enough. Now come on in and eat” she guides you inside, but your whole stomachs fluttering now, and you don’t know how much you will actually be able to eat.

_______________________________________

It was the morning you were leaving the ranch, you felt sad to be going. It had been such a positive experience being here with these women, you’d made some friends and you have exchanged numbers with Frances, who would love to stay in contact. Hugging everyone goodbye you waved your last farewell as you entered your car, today you’d be starting your trip to Los Angeles. Although you didn’t think you’d want to visit Hollywood, you had mapped out some lovely vineyards and beaches.

Starting the engine you made your way off the ranch and onto your next adventure. Driving down the highway you turned you music up, opening the windows letting the wind whip at your hair, singing along to your favourite song. Determined to enjoy every aspect of your road-trip, including the tedious highways.

You made it as far as the Texas/ New Mexico boarder before pulling into a motel for the night. Once you were settled in your room you pulled your phone out and called your dad, “Hey baby girl! Long time no speak, where have you been! Only one letter in two weeks and no phone calls! I’ve been worried!” Your dad stresses.

“I’m so sorry Dad the ranch had nearly no signal, Negan managed to call once while I was there, I think I found a fluke spot that evening, because I couldn’t get through to either of you again” you explain.

“That’s alright honey, I just worry, you know I do! How have you been? I didn’t know you spoke to Negan, do you call each other often?” He asks, and you can tell the confusion in his tone.

“Umm yeah we talk a couple of times a week I guess, same as you and I talk. I think he likes to know what I’m up too. I’m good yeah thanks dad been super busy though, but yeah I’m having a great time, how have you been doing?” You answer.

“Yeah no complaints here, I miss you though. House is too quiet without you kiddo, and it’s ok I just didn’t know the two of you were talking, he’s never said anything to me. Other then the fact you send him the occasional letter too” your dad explains.

“Yeah I write to you both, as per requested” you laugh before adding “I hope your looking after yourself though dad, and actually cooking? Not ordering take out every night. I do worry about you both when I’m not there, you don’t have the best eating habits” you giggle.

“Hey we are doing just fine! I did a BBQ the other day we even had salad!” You dad defends.

Laughing out loud now you reply “Oh some salad too! Well I don’t know why I was worrying then”

“Oi little miss, I do just fine! I managed to cook for you ok growing up!” He argues playfully.

“Yeah I know dad I know, I’m just teasing, well I’m glad you doing good, I’m going to head to bed it’s been a long day, lots of driving” you admit.

“Ok kiddo sleep tight”

“Will do night dad”

Ending the call you lay back on the bed and sigh, your dad seemed so confused about you talking to Negan, you hope you didn’t give your feelings about the man away? Nah he was probably just surprised. It will be fine, you think.

After getting ready for bed your phone starts buzzing again, you glance at it sat on the bedside table. ‘Video call from Negan’ grinning you answer the call “Hey!”, “Hey beautiful, how is your journey going?” You admire him for a second, dimples showing as he grins through the phone at you, why does he have to be so beautiful, “Yeah it’s going well I’m on the Texas/ New Mexico boarder, in a small town called Eunice I think. I’m in a small motel, I’ll be carrying on towards Los Angeles in the morning” you answer.

He’s walking about his kitchen, tidying up and nodding as you speak. You love the domestic feel to it, you wish you were there with him, just doing ordinary household chores. “That’s good! You’re making great time sweetheart. And at least now you have signal” he laughs, “Yeah there’s great service here, so what have you been up too?” You ask, “Not much darlin, just work. Some poor guy came in last week with a blown head gasket, it’s taking a lot of time to fix it. So I’ve been at the garage long hours this week. Other than that not a lot, Bill is trying to set me up on some date with his wife’s friend, but I’m not too sure” he admits.

Your stomach sinks at that, a date, no don’t go on a date you think, especially not when I’m thousands of miles across the country and can’t do anything to help stop it. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you try to keep yourself together. “Yeah?” You ask, voice sounding way more strained than you hoped. “Yeah, you ok sweetheart?” He asks looking at you full of concern. “Yeah I need to umm go get some sleep it’s late and I’m exhausted” you blurt out in haste.

“Yeah ok darlin, goodnight”, “Night” you answer before quickly hanging up. Tears sting your eyes as you lay back on the bed, harshly rubbing the tears away you sit up, sod this I’m going for a drink, you determine. Pulling some jeans and a jacket on, you cross over the road to the local bar.

Entering the building the smell of stale beer and smoke hits you, wrinkling your nose in slight disgust you sit at the bar, “A beer please” you ask the bartender, who nods at you placing a bottle in front of you.

Across the country Negan can’t get your reaction out of his head. He was thinking maybe the date would be a good way to move on. Because you probably didn’t feel the same as him, he was delusional right? Thinking he saw signs that you wanted him. But you went from cheerful to distressed in seconds, now he doesn’t know, he could always ask you, he knows this. But he also knows he couldn’t deal with rejection, not from you. He sits down on his couch placing his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of it all.

You on the other hand have just stumbled back into your room after a few drinks, and you feel in your drunken state that your heads so much clearer. With the new found confidence the alcohol has given you, you pull out your phone and send Negan a text before passing out on your bed.

Don’t go on that date Negan, please don’t …I love you

The buzzing of his phone he’s pulled out of his thoughts, reading your message he’s sat in shock. You love him? Gods you love him! That’s it he needs to see you. Jumping up he rushes to pack a bag, throwing as much as he can fit in the duffle. Moving to grab his keys, phone, charger and passport. A flight to you will be the quickest way!

Leaving the house he sends you a message back,

Don’t go anywhere sweetheart, I’m on my way! Xx

[niningtori]

see me | chapter two: closer

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after another failed relationship, you're ready to accept your fate as hopeless. choi beomgyu has other plans, though. or, beomgyu's your best friend's little brother and he's tired of you treating him like a kid.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending, best friend's brother au

word count: 2-3k-ish

notes: as promised, here is chapter two :) i realize most people are actually waiting for chapter three of to know him is to love him, but somebody wanted to read this and i already had it written!! it also made me so happy that someone was interested in the first fic i posted on here 😭 i'm still working on chapter 3 of tkhitlm, but i will be bouncing back and forth between that and see me (which is how i like to write, don't worry). also, feedback is appreciated :,)

after an intervention with jia, you decide you're not going to forgive donghyun for his infidelity. it's tempting to just listen to him and move forward with your relationship, but you decide to put your dignity first and break up with him once and for all. for that, beomgyu is more grateful than you'll ever know.

jia suggests going on a trip with her and her boyfriend, yijun. you decisively reject her under the claim that you're unwilling to be the third wheel, but jia, ever the mastermind, placates you by inviting beomgyu. you're immediately a lot more willing than before. sure, you'd still be an extra wheel, but you could do so with company. you and beomgyu are friends — almost like family. the idea of going on a trip with them is exponentially more appealing when you know he'll be there with you. he could, in theory, bring one of the many girls who are always hanging off of him, but he's been more lowkey lately for reasons unknown to you.

the trip in question is to the closest beach. yijun has a beach house (you often joke about how she hit the jackpot with him) and you're finally ready to unwind and forget about your shitty reality. beomgyu is uncharacteristically quiet for the entire drive there, but you don't push because you assume he's not in the mood for you to. you plan on asking him about it when you get a moment alone, though.

the house has three bedrooms and you're beyond thankful. you'd feel awful if you had to share a room with jia just so you wouldn't have to room with beomgyu. you begin to imagine what would have happened if donghyun had come instead, but you shake off the thought as fast as you possibly can, though it lingers in the back of your mind.

jia and yijun are on the first level while you and beomgyu are on the second. you stare up the long staircase and sigh at the thought of having to heave your suitcase up there after such a tiring drive. then, as if reading your mind, beomgyu grabs your suitcase along with his and lugs them up the stairs without saying a word. you grin and comment on his chivalry and strength. the tips of his ears turn pink, but they are (thankfully) hidden under his long hair.

jia and yijun invite you to the beach, but you decide you're too tired and would rather stay in for the time being. you decide to take a quick nap, or at least you try to, but end up waking up so disoriented you briefly can't recall where you are and why. when you regain your senses and check your phone, you realize you've been out for at least 4 hours and the sky is already darkening. so much for an eventful first day.

with a grimace, you make your way down the stairs and to the living room, half expecting jia to make fun of you, but the only person you see is beomgyu. he's sitting there, posture relaxed while he fiddles with his phone. when you call out to him, he immediately drops it onto the floor.

"shit!" he exclaims.

"sorry, i didn't know i'd freak you out this bad," you remark sheepishly.

"it's okay," he says clearing his throat awkwardly. "how are you? did you sleep okay?"

"i woke up literally not knowing who i was. that's how good i slept." you both laugh at this and he shakes his head.

"hey, where are jia and yijun?" you ask.

"they're at the beach."

"still?"

"still."

"why didn't you go with them?" you question lightly with a tilt of your head.

"i dunno, just didn't feel like it," he lies with a cough. he just really didn't wanna leave you here alone, and if he could spend some one-on-one time with you, all the better.

"well, i'm hungry. do you want to get dinner together?" you assumed jia and yijun were probably out to eat on their own.

"do you mean going out?"

you steal a glance at the mirror hanging above the couch and catch a glimpse of your drool encrusted mouth and bedhead. going out? no fucking way.

"i was thinking of just ordering chinese food?"

"sounds good to me."

when the food arrives, you make beomgyu go out to get it, arguing that you look like shit. he says you look fine and you roll your eyes at this. you took a four hour nap and you'll be damned if it doesn't show. if it was anyone else, you may have been embarrassed about your appearance, but it's just beomgyu. he certainly doesn't care about what you look like.

in between bites of your noodles, you laugh at beomgyu's storytelling. he's not being as quiet as before and he's talking about an unspecified friend's antics with two new situationships, only to find out he's been fucking two so-called best friends simultaneously. you groan at the revelation and cover your face in secondhand embarrassment. he doesn't spare any of the finer details and you're kicking your feet at the awkwardness.

he's acting normal more or less, but you can't help but notice how hesitant he seems at certain points. you're still set on asking him what's wrong, so after you're done laughing and reacting to his enthralling story, you find a quiet moment.

"beomie?"

"what is it?" he asks, smile still present from your infectious laughter.

"are you alright?" immediately, his smile drops and is replaced by a light frown.

"yeah... why wouldn't i be?"

"it just feels like you're not 100% here, is everything okay?" leave it to you to notice the almost imperceptible changes within him. even his own sister doesn't seem to notice how off he's felt lately, but his heart soars at how much you've been evidently paying attention.

"actually, i—" the front door swings open and jia comes in with yijun in tow.

"jesus, did you just wake up?" she asks, unimpressed with your current appearance.

"more or less," you grin. beomgyu can't help but grin too, but his smile falters when he realizes the conversation you two were having was cut short and he's unsure of when you two will be alone again.

"we brought you guys some food, but i guess we didn't need to," she says, eyeing the chinese food messily sitting on the coffee table.

"really? you're the best," you answer.

beomgyu thinks he gives his thanks too, but he honestly can't tell if he said it aloud or not. he's so disappointed because he felt like you two were finally getting somewhere, but he supposes he'll have time to talk to you again during the trip. he just hopes jia and yijun take a hint and fuck off for awhile sometime soon.

they don't. actually, it feels like jia is more glued to you than usual, which could be due in part to the heartbreak you've just borne, but he still can't help but feel indignant. he wants to tell her to kick rocks, but he can't — that would raise too much suspicion. so he sits patiently, like he always has, and waits.

in the meantime, the rest of his crew is blowing up his phone — coaching him on how to make subtle moves on you. sometimes, he stands behind you and grabs things you can't reach on your own, which seems innocuous enough, but he feels so close you can feel his breath on your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. other times, he gently touches your shoulder or knee when redirecting your attention. these harmless gestures are meaningless to you, but you have no idea how much courage it takes him to make these moves. you and beomgyu have touched each other before, so it's not like you question a single thing he does. in fact, you've hugged him, even, but that was only ever once and never again. you don't like to relive that memory for reasons unrelated to him, but he remembers everything.

-

being with doyoon was everything you ever hoped love could be. it was patient, it was kind, and it was unbreakable, at least to you. you didn't want to be naive, but after a few months, you already knew you wanted to marry him.

you always felt a little lost. the reason why you even went to college in the first place was mostly because you didn't want to be home anymore, not because of some grand plan for yourself and for your life. doyoon was the exact opposite. he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it, but you loved him for that. he seemed so determined and sure of himself, everything you weren't. being with him made you want to be better. actually, being with him made you better. sure, you still weren't 100% sure what you were doing, but you knew you wanted more. whatever happened, you knew he'd be there to help you figure it out. or that's what you used to think, at least.

for three years, you tried to measure up to him. you wanted to become someone worthy of him to the point where you abandoned a lot of who you used to be. good riddance to bad rubbish, you thought. no need for tears spilled over the loss of someone you didn't even like. jia would worry, though. she said you weren't acting like yourself because you were wound so tight you were no longer the easygoing person you always had been. you were hard on yourself to the point of tears at times, wanting so desperately to be someone doyoon could be proud of, but you fell short every time.

when you didn't get promotions and the internship you wanted, doyoon would always comfort you, but you knew he was disappointed. not with the fact that you failed, but just in you. he said you needed to apply yourself more, so you did. he said you had more potential than you even knew and he didn't want you to settle for anything less, but one day you couldn't help but ask "what if this is all i can do?!"

he was silent for a moment, seriously contemplating your question. you felt an unparalleled sense of dread while you waited for him to answer. why didn't he know his answer? why wasn't it "then i'll love you anyway"? why, why, why? eventually, he replied, and your dread was met with despair.

"then i can't be with you."

he said more after that. something about wanting different things, something about needing to find someone more compatible, something about needing to grow with someone instead of watching them wither. the last one in particular hurt the most. you had tried so, so hard to be someone you wanted to be around, but it was never enough. you felt like everything you did had been pointless and the person you had become was a façade. a really strong person wouldn't crumble the way you did. a really strong person wouldn't cling to his shirt and beg him to see the good in you, and you knew that, but you did it anyway.

when he inevitably left you as you sobbed alone, you wanted to see jia immediately, but she was home for the holidays. you tried calling on your drive over, but it went straight to voicemail. do not disturb, a nasty little feature. she must have been asleep. still, you drove over like a madman and paused several times when you couldn't see through your tears.

when you arrived at the choi's house, you knocked rapidly on the door — basically pounding on it. you sighed in relief when the door opened and you expected to see her face on the other side. what you didn't foresee was her little brother answering instead.

"what's wrong?!" he shouted in concern, taking in your pitiful frame. to this day you don't know why, but you took the 19-year-old beomgyu in your arms and released your sobs onto his chest. maybe you just needed somebody, anybody, to hold onto. and he let you. he pulled you in even closer and shut the door behind you. he shushed you as he gently rubbed circles into your shaking back and let you cry.

when you finally calmed down enough to talk, your voice was still choked and heavy with emotion.

"it's doyoon, h-he doesn't want me anymore. he said he can't be with me because i'm not — because i can't be good enough for him. he said we want different things, but we don't. i'm trying! can't he see that i'm trying?! can you see that i'm trying?!" you asked, not even really making sense, but beomgyu seemed to understand perfectly.

he knew jia had expressed concern for you and your relationship. she said you weren't acting like yourself anymore. she didn't mention that you would have meltdowns over not achieving what you felt you were supposed to achieve, but beomgyu overheard her consoling you more than once. he wanted to grab the phone from her and talk to you himself, but what could he say? that he saw you, the real you? that he could understand how you felt? that he always understood how you felt?

he couldn't before, but there you were, asking him the questions he always wanted you to ask. he wouldn't miss that chance.

"of course i can," he said softly. "of course i can. anyone can see it, and if they can't, they just don't know you." not like i know you.

"then — then why? why can't he understand me?" you seemed so lost he wished he could find the right words to soothe you. it felt like if he just said the right thing, maybe it would click for you that you just had the wrong person. maybe it would click for you that he could be the right person.

"because he's not the right person for you. the right person would never make you doubt yourself. the right person should make you want to be better on your own terms, not theirs. the right person would accept you just as you are even when you want to be something more."

you couldn't help but scoff at this.

"and who is the right person for me? who would want me the way i am right now?" you didn't mean to sound frustrated, but you were racking your brain trying to figure this shit out yourself too.

"i... i don't know." coward, he thought. "but i know he's out there. there's someone out there who really wants the best for you, but will never make you feel small while you're still trying to figure out what that looks like."

"i just want to know when that will be," you cried, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. he almost took a chance to wipe your tears, but he opted to push your hair back behind your ears instead.

"it will be soon, just wait. don't cry. it's okay, don't cry."

you can't recall how long you cried after that, in spite of beomgyu's sincere pleas. after you were all cried out, you put your head on his shoulder and he tried not to visibly stiffen.

"thank you. you know, beomie, this might be weird to say, but i've always felt that you're like..." he gulped and hoped to god you didn't hear it. was this it?

"that you're like a little brother to me, honestly." he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. "i really hope that's not weird, but i really do love you. you're such a good friend to me." he felt like he had been kicked in the stomach, actually.

"any time. i mean it. i love you, too." the sentiment was a little different, but he was still glad to say it.

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.  

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.��� You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

previous chapter || next chapter