#finished Ch4 last night

[areyouwell]

the devil works fast, but fanfiction writers work faster

[literaphobe]

It's been awhile since I've been on your blog and I see your into miraculous ladybug which neat so I recommend checking this animatic https://youtu.be/FkA4gyJrs5s still one of my favorite ones in the fandom and this video https://youtu.be/FlwV3scCgAM because the animation in it is so good anyway hope you enjoy these videos

oh the first one is so cool!! ive seen the second one and its very fun :) im a big proponent of 2d animation, but also im p attached to the show we have as is and how its animated <3 tysm for dropping by to share these w me :((((((((((

[emotionoitme]

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry 

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty) 

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator. 

this we know to be a fact. 

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right? 

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him. 

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning. 

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks. 

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone. 

she goes on lunch break with no text from him. 

gets off work at 5 with no text from him. 

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him. 

eats dinner with no text from him. 

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it. 

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep. 

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate. 

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself. 

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home. 

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside. 

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.” 

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker. 

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks. 

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped. 

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book. 

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip. 

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?” 

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something. 

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters. 

she slams her book shut and turns to face him. 

“i’m going to bed.” 

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“hey,” he says, firmer this time. 

she whips around and pulls her arm back. 

“what?” she snaps. 

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression. 

“why are you acting like that?” he asks. 

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier. 

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained. 

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.” 

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment. 

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on. 

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her. 

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind. 

her eyes brows crease further. 

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs. 

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts. 

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself. 

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him. 

-

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out. 

fucking asshole! 

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again. 

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen. 

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy. 

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually. 

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses. 

she tells herself that’s what she wants. 

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest. 

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there. 

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again. 

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him. 

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again. 

it’s entirely confusing. 

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back. 

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all. 

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety. 

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start. 

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs. 

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan. 

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath. 

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat. 

she throws back the shot and shivers. 

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs. 

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.” 

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm. 

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him. 

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone. 

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing. 

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.” 

nice. real soothing. 

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges. 

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her. 

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.” 

she rolls her eyes. 

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume. 

“well, let me drive you guys then.” 

she shakes her head. 

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder. 

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude. 

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit. 

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. 

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.” 

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching. 

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.” 

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused. 

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that. 

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door. 

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more. 

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass. 

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy. 

-

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there? 

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home. 

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text. 

jealous motherfucker. 

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing. 

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s. 

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night. 

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either. 

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks. 

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to. 

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right. 

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy. 

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does. 

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips. 

she wishes that she liked how it felt. 

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration. 

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear. 

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink. 

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night. 

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. 

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen. 

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below. 

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.” 

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call. 

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating. 

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?” 

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name. 

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear. 

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.” 

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly. 

“you at prysm? tunnel?” 

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again. 

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.” 

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing. 

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head. 

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately. 

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her. 

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty. 

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?” 

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.” 

the man scoffs. 

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest. 

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall. 

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie. 

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man. 

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her. 

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most. 

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose. 

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene. 

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red. 

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head. 

he smells so good. smells so safe. 

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit. 

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently. 

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful. 

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either. 

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode. 

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food. 

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome. 

but she’s still mad, of course. 

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit. 

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed. 

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess. 

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.” 

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again. 

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.” 

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little. 

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly. 

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face. 

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face. 

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much. 

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly. 

“my what?” 

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”. 

the girl lets out a laugh. 

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits. 

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands. 

“you are so cute,” she amuses. 

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window. 

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night. 

-

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building. 

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes. 

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms. 

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared. 

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking. 

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes. 

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.” 

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?” 

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again. 

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that. 

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.” 

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs. 

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep. 

an hour passes. 

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail. 

30 more minutes. 

everything was so uncomfortable. 

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off. 

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully. 

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately. 

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed. 

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club. 

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes. 

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue. 

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax. 

she just wants to feel safe. 

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room. 

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night. 

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside. 

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms. 

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift. 

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within. 

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly. 

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?” 

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back. 

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles. 

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry. 

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears. 

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin. 

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.” 

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his. 

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her. 

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck. 

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.” 

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his. 

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer. 

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts. 

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her. 

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her. 

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world. 

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off. 

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest. 

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue. 

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness. 

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal. 

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck. 

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening. 

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for. 

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt. 

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan. 

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers. 

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts. 

the man grabs her hip, holding her still. 

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her. 

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle. 

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies. 

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again. 

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?” 

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does. 

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts. 

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?” 

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries. 

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different. 

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?” 

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight. 

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips. 

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards. 

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it. 

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth. 

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her. 

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure. 

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her. 

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips. 

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves. 

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain. 

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck. 

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment. 

“i can’t move.” 

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth. 

-

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment. 

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon. 

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible. 

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes. 

the man turns his head.

“hey,”  he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. 

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.” 

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon. 

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee. 

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face. 

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin. 

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence. 

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly. 

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.” 

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night. 

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot. 

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates. 

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste. 

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him. 

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.” 

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face. 

“good?” 

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite. 

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good. 

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.” 

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly. 

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup. 

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made. 

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.  

-

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.  

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub. 

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck. 

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.  

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name. 

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast. 

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch. 

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further. 

knock knock knock 

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit. 

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress. 

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize. 

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him. 

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight. 

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in. 

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter. 

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room. 

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment. 

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

The Cowgirl and The Aviator Ch4

Next installment will they kiss who knows read to find out. @smoothdogsgirl

The morning rays hitting your face woke you, and when you took in a deep breath it smelled like Jake. Then you woke up with a start remembering that you in fact were in Jake’s apartment. You looked around noticing you were in a bed and not on the couch where you remembered falling asleep. You got up and walked into the living area seeing Jake sprawled out on the couch still asleep. Gentleman indeed you thought to yourself as you opened the fridge. 

You grabbed the new carton of eggs, thick sliced hickory smoked bacon and some potatoes to make hash browns. As you cooked you turned on the small radio on the counter and turned it low enough not to wake Jake. As Alan Jackson played through the speaker you sang along as you bopped from the oven back to the fridge to put the rest of the eggs away. The station continued to play different country songs as breakfast was almost done. 

When Tennessee Whiskey started to play you swayed back and forth singing along. You hadn’t heard Jake get up as he watched you sway while making food. You happened to see him out of the corner of your eye and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he looked ridiculous, but also so domestic looking that it had you thinking about waking him up every morning.

“What’s so funny?”, he asked, coming to take the spatula out of your hand. He then laid it on the counter and took both of your hands in his as he started to sway like you had earlier. Both of you smiled at each other as you both continued to dance. Then he let go of one of your hands to twirl you and the feeling in this moment just felt so right. He took hold of your hand once more as the song came to an end and he dipped you back as you laughed. 

When he pulled you back up you gestured to the stove as he let you go. He disappeared down the hall most likely to the bathroom as you finished up making two plates. He rounded the corner as you poured the orange juice into each glass then placed it back in the fridge as well. “Ya’ know I could get used to this. Rooster should bring women home more often”, he joked. “Well if this one holds steady, which I highly doubt it, it may happen more often”, you implied.

You watched as Jake took a bite of bacon and groaned. That groan had you rubbing your thighs together. “This is delicious. I'm seriously thinking about having you move in with me rather than Rooster”, he laughed. “I bet Rooster would have something to say about that”, you respond with a laugh. “Yeah well he should have been more considerate of you last night”, Jake grouched. “Well to be fair it is his apartment I’m just crashing there for now”, you explain.

Jake let it go as you both continued to eat, and you liked being around him. He made you feel good about yourself. “Tell you what. If the date on Saturday goes well. Any time Rooster brings a woman home I’ll crash here”, you say. “Sounds like a plan darlin”, he smiles. You loved when he called you that and there was something about the way he smiled that you loved. Jake was already mentally going through places he could take you out on a date, but all of them seemed dull compared to how he felt about you. 

You got up to take care of the dishes, but Jake beat you to it. “No, you already made breakfast. What kind of man would I be if I made you do the dishes”, he said. You smiled and flicked water at him and the fake shocked look that crossed his face had you laughing again. “I’m gonna head back and see if I can shower and get ready for the day”, you tell Jake. “You start work tomorrow right?”, he asks. “Yeah I’ll see you after you get done with training?”, you inquire. “Yeah I’ll see you tomorrow”, he replies. 

You got back to Bradley’s apartment and didn’t see any evidence that anyone was awake. You went straight to the guest room then it dawned on you Jake also had a guest room, but let you have his bed and he slept on the couch. You shook your head with a smile as you grabbed a change of clothes, put your dead phone on the charger and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you got out and changed you realized you needed to do laundry. 

You grabbed a basket and got your clothes together to take down to the laundry room. When you got there the heat was staggering in there, but you would just have to endure. You put them in and walked across the street to the small shops. One grabbed your attention right away and you quickly walked in. The smell of books hit your nose as you started going through the different isles. 

You end up buying a couple of books for something to do on days you were bored. When you get back to the laundry room you have about fifteen minutes left on the wash cycle so you start one of the books you had bought. When the buzz sounds you place all of your clothes into a dryer and press start. The book is actually pretty good as you continue reading not realizing someone had walked in. “So where did you go last night?”, Bradley asked.

When you looked up from your book he stood there putting his clothes into a washer. “I stayed at Jake’s”, you respond. “I can’t believe you would stay with a guy you hardly know”, he gruffs. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t brought a fuckbuddy home”, you explain. “We were in my room and you had a guest room”, he argues. “Okay but I didn’t want to hear any of that while I was trying to sleep”, you sigh. 

“So you slept with him”, Bradley accuses. “For your information I didn’t. He was a gentleman and gave me his bed while he slept on the couch. Not that it would be any of your business anyway”, you seethed. “I’m telling you if you date him he is only going to hurt you later. He is a womanizer (Y/N). I have seen him take women home from the bar dozens of times”, he huffs. “Like I said before, if I make a mistake it’s mine to make. I’m going on a date with him on Saturday and I swear if you try to scare him off I’ll put my foot up your ass”, you reply.

“Just be careful”, Bradley sighs. “I will”, you say. “Sorry for what I said about sleeping with him”, he apologizes. “Apology accepted”, you conceded. When the dryer buzzes you take all your clothes and start folding them putting them in the basket when Jake walks in with a basket of his clothes. Bradley stiffens as Jake smiles at you and winks. You give Bradley another glare to make him stay quiet. You say goodbye as you go back to the apartment.

“So what is your plan with (Y/N)”, Bradley grills. “I plan on taking her on a date and hope for more dates after that”, Jake replies. Both men sizing each other up as they wait on their laundry. “Did you sleep with her last night and don’t fucking lie to me”, Bradley growled. “No Bradshaw I didn’t. I let her have my bed while I slept on the couch. Not that it’s any of your business”, Jake replies. “I know you think I’m some kind of skirt chaser and yeah I’ve had my fair share, but I do like (Y/N) and I intend to treat her with respect”, Jake admits. 

When you enter the apartment you decide to go ahead and clean up. Vacuuming took longer than you expected when Bradley comes in and gets ready to head out. “I’m going to meet with Mav, I'll be back later”, he said. You nodded as he headed back out the door, and continued to clean moving into the kitchen. You decide to go to the beach and swim for a while, and then lay out in the sun. 

When four thirty rolled around you made your way back towards the apartment and shower again. You're sitting on the couch when a text rolls in on your phone. It’s from Jake asking if you like chinese take out and you reply with a thumbs up emoji. It was such a random text, but you wondered if he was trying to figure out date ideas for Saturday. A few minutes later another text rolls in and you open it expecting it to be Jake. 

Unknown number and when you open it the text reads ‘YOU THINK YOU’RE SO FUCKING CLEVER! OF COURSE YOU WOULD CALL THE POLICE, BUT I AM GOING TO FIND YOU BITCH AND WHEN I DO YOU’LL BE SORRY FOR LEAVING!’. You snapshot it to keep records if you ever take it to the police. At least your brother and his family are safe now. “Bring it on fucker I’m not scared of you anymore”, you say out loud to no one. A knock on the door has you looking through the peephole.

Jake stands there holding bags in his hand and when you open the door he looks sheepish. “I picked you up some food so you didn’t have to cook tonight”, he says. “Come on Bradley’s out for a while and I was watching some reruns”, you explain. You sit down on the couch and pull the coffee table closer to you all as he sets everything down on it. “What are you watching?”, he asks. “I’m watching M.A.S.H.”, you respond. You both grab what you want and share different things from the little to go boxes. 

At some point you both end up lounging on the couch with you under his arm watching The Lost Boys. “I’m not going to lie if I was to go back in time Kiefer Sutherland would be my hollywood crush”, you say. “Okay, who is the best batman of all time?”, Jake asks. “That's easy Michael Keaton and he was also amazing as Beetlejuice”, you answer. Jake seems placated by your answer as you continue to watch the movie. 

It isn’t too much longer when Jake admits it’s getting late and that he has to go. You walk with him to the door and close it behind him after your good night. Once in bed you started reading your book and must have fallen asleep. When you woke you heard noises coming from the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was way too early and you knew it had to be Braddley getting ready to go to training for the day.

You went back to sleep and didn’t wake again until your alarm rang to get ready for the day. Your shift didn’t start until 1PM and ended at 9PM so you had a little time to kill. You decided to go to the local grocery store to buy some food items that you were going to make dinner with. When you made it back home you made your dinner so you wouldn’t have to make it when you got back home and put it in the fridge. 

You left the apartment and were thirty minutes early for your shift. When you went in Penny was happy to see you as she explained that they had needed a waitress for so long. When the first wave of people came in you went to their tables and waited on them. Everything was going smoothly even though this was the first time you had ever waited tables. By five the bar was starting to get crowded as the bartenders worked to keep up with drinks.

You felt like you were running from table to table to keep up with the influx of people when someone reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey sweets, how about a date after you get off?”, a gruff man asked. “No thanks I’m super busy and don’t have time”, you politely replied. “Oh come on just one date I’ll make sure you feel real good”, he insisted. “Like hell, Now I done told ya’ I’m busy. Don’t make me ring that bell at the bar”, you hissed. 

The man let you go calling you a bitch under his breath, but he got the message. Penny had been watching the interaction and knew that she made a great choice in hiring you. “Hiya Penny how’s (Y/N) doing her first day on the job?”, Maverick asked as he sat down. “She is doing great. She is handling the rowdy guys and has even threatened some of them with ringing the bell”, Penny responded. “Told you she could take care of herself”, Mav sighed.

You had just waited on another table when you spotted the dagger squad come in. You waved at them as they waved back and headed for their usual spot. Jake watched as you took the table's order and headed back to the kitchen to give the order to the cook. When you came back out Jake two fingers saluted you and you smiled back at him. He seemed to be enjoying watching you work as a man got mouthy with you. 

You walked behind the bar and rang the bell, and Jake started making his way over with Coyote to deal with him as the patrons chanted overboard. “What do ya’ think darlin’?”, Jake asked. “Overboard soldier, that's an order”, you said. “Yes ma’am”, he replied, and you noticed his pupils dilated slightly. You would have to remember that for possible future use.  Watching him in his khaki uniform was like looking at art as him and Coyote tossed the man out. 

An hour later and you took your break to grab some food and sit with the squad. They were discussing their next mission, and you watched as they took bets on who would be picked as mission leader. Jake seemed upset when they all bet that it would be Rooster. You finished eating and then looked for a place to sit and had the perfect idea. You walked right up to Jake and sat down on his lap. “Relax soldier I just needed a place to sit”, you explain as he tenses under you. 

His eyes become hooded as he watches you talk with Nat about the mission, but not anything classified. He thinks he has this under control until you shift on his lap and he can feel your heat radiating from your jeans. He feels his blood start rushing south as he tries to will it away, but it doesn’t seem to help. He is totally screwed when you turn your head to smile that tantalizing smile at him. “At ease soldier”, you whisper. You can feel him twitch under you and you let out a small laugh. 

“I think we should take things slow”, he says. “I can do that”, you reply. A few minutes later and you have to get back to your shift. When you get up you notice Jake adjusts himself under the table and you smirk at how easy it was to rile him up, but if he wanted slow you could do slow. You also couldn’t wait to see where he was going to take you on your date. The mission was in two weeks so if the first date went well you were going to set up more before he had to leave.

The rest of the night goes smoothly and the dagger squad leaves except one. Jake sits at the bar waiting until your shift ends. He is talking with Maverick about something, but quickly stops talking when you clock out. Jake stands and comes over to you and explains he wanted to walk you to your truck. “I’m sorry if I overstepped earlier by sitting in your lap”, you apologize. “It’s alright darlin’ I didn’t mind”, he responds.

“Thanks for walking me to my truck”, you tell him. You turn to open your truck door as he turns to walk to his truck. “Wait”, you say. He turns right as you lean up on your toes and place a quick kiss to his cheek. By the time Jake registers what happened you’re in your truck and backing out of your spot. You can’t believe you just did that. What was happening to you? You had never done anything that bold before, and you haven’t even had a first date. 

The rest of the week is mostly the same except the dagger squad only shows up a couple more days. Nat and Bob give you their number if you ever need it, and you have to admit Bob reminded you of your brother before he became resentful of you. When Friday rolls around at the Hard Deck Nat pulls you away from the others asking what you're going to wear on your date. “I was just going to wear my usual”, you reply. “You are not going to wear Jeans and a t-shirt for your date even if it’s with Bagman”, she sighs frustratedly.

She insists that she is showing up to take you shopping in the morning. When you get home you shower and head to bed. Nat is at your door at eight in the morning and she hands you a coffee. You thank her and head off to go shopping at one of the local consignment shops. You are at a total loss as dresses aren’t your thing so you let Nat go crazy. She searches for what feels like hours as she brings a whole bunch of them for you to try on.

None of the dresses feel right, but Nat doesn’t give up as she continues searching. When she comes back with a vintage floral dress you try it on and step out of the dressing room.”Holy shit that is totally the dress you need to wear”, she beams. “I don’t know do you think Jake will like it?”, you question. “If a man doesn’t like that then they are dead sexually”, she laughs. You end up buying the dress then realize you don’t have any shoes. Nat takes it upon herself to help you in that department too. 

You refuse heels much to her dismay and so she goes and finds some cute beige lace flats that go perfect with the dress. She treats you to lunch as she asks if you know where Jake is taking you. You tell her he didn’t tell you and she smiles as if she knows more than she is letting on. “I’m sure you’ll love it”, she responds. When Nat drops you off you thank her and tell her you will let her know how the date goes. You then take time to relax until you have to get ready. 

“Are you going to be coming back tonight?”, Bradley asks. “I don’t know, but if your fuckbuddy is coming over I can crash at Jake’s”, you explain. You can see him warring with himself as he is trying to decide. “You know what, I'm sure Jake wouldn’t mind. I'll just ask to stay at his place if the date goes well. If not I can text Nat real quick as a backup plan”, you explain. He accepts that answer and that’s all the reassurance you need.

You go and get your sundress and flats on then apply a little lip gloss that Nat bought and slipped in your dress bag. When you exit Bradley is at the kitchen counter texting. “Hey Bradley, how do I look?”, you ask. “Holy shit you look great! I don’t think I have ever seen you wear a dress. Jake better not fuck this up or I’ll shoot him out of the sky myself”, he says. With that there is a knock on the door and you go to answer it. Jake stands there with a sunflower and lilac bouquet and you smile as he takes you in.

“You look gorgeous”, he breathes. “Thanks you look handsome”, you smile. Bradley makes a gagging noise behind you as you turn and flip him off. Jake offers you his hand as you make your way to his truck. He opens the passenger door for you and when he drives off you make small talk. You notice the picnic basket in the back seat and something large rolled up in the back floorboard. “So where are we going?”, you ask. “You’ll see when we get there”, he replies. 

He ends up driving up to a spot overlooking the beach and backs into a spot. “Here, take the basket of food and I’ll be down in a few minutes. I have to get the other stuff out of the truck”, he tells you. You do as he says and after taking off your shoes find a beautiful spot. Within fifteen minutes he comes down the stairs and over to the spot you picked, but you noticed he is carrying an inflatable pool and a small plastic bin. 

He puts the pool down and tells you to wait after he takes the picnic basket and sets it in the pool. He then walks to the water's edge and scoops some seawater into the bin. He brings it back and sets it right outside the pool. This way we can wash the sand off before getting in. “Jake this is amazing”, you say. “Thanks, should we eat now or later?”, he questions. “We can eat later if that’s okay with you”, you say.

You both walk down the beach and when you hear the roar of an engine you look to the sky as a jet flies over. Jake loves the way you light up and get excited about the jet. “Holy shit and you fly those. I bet it feels so liberating being able to fly”, you sigh. “Yeah it is”, Jake says, but he is taking in your every expression as the jet flies out of sight. You start walking ahead of him and stop to look out at the ocean. The light is hitting you just right and he quickly pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. 

When you turn towards him he catches up to you. You both talk about how he joined the Navy and what you studied in college. An hour later and your stomach growls so you both start walking back to the pool. When you get back you both wash your feet off and dig into the picnic basket. There was cheese, sandwiches and wine with two glasses. You teared up a little and Jake leaned forward to cup your face and wipe the tears with his thumbs. “What’s wrong darlin’?”, he asked worriedly. 

“It’s just no one has ever done anything like this for me before”, you smile. “Well you’re worth all this and more”, he responds. You had already made up your mind that if he wanted more dates you would say yes. You both ate and drank as the sun continued to lower. About thirty minutes to sunset he was leaning back on the side of the pool with an arm behind his head. You slid over snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you.

The sunset was beautiful and you watched it until the sun completely disappeared making the sky turn different colors. You stayed like that for a while and you were almost asleep when he said something about taking you home. You sat up as he did as well, but put his hand behind your head and slowly pulled you towards him. You leaned in as he looked down to your lips as if asking for permission. You nodded and he took the opportunity to kiss you. It was slow and sensual until you both had to pull away for air. More kisses followed as you slowly straddled him and sat in his lap.

The kisses started heating up as his hands skimmed down your sides to hold your hips. “Darlin I want to be a gentleman but you make it hard”, he said between more kisses. He finally pulled away as you smiled at him. “How about I get you home”, he says. You nod and help pack everything up and take it back to the truck. He asks about a second date after you both are back in the truck which you agree to. A text message comes through and you realize it’s Bradley saying he had company. 

“Hey Jake”, you say. “Yeah sweetheart?”, he asks. “Roo has ‘company’ and I was wondering if I could crash at your place again”, you say sheepishly. “Absolutely”, he replies. When you make it back to the apartment complex you help him get everything put away and he lends you clothes to sleep in. You go take a shower then let him shower while you change into the clothes he gave you. 

Once you've changed and wait until you hear him leave the bathroom you go to the living room where he is lounging on the couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. “I feel bad about you sleeping on the couch. Come sleep in the bed please. I promise I’ll stay on my side and we can take this slow”, you pout. He hesitates until you grab his hand and tug. He rolls his eyes but follows you to the bedroom where you both get under the covers.

Jake watches as your breathing slows and you look completely relaxed. He hasn’t felt like this ever and it’s foreign to him but he likes it. He made up his mind he would much rather have this type of connection with you than any one night stand he has ever had. Your small snores lull him to sleep a few minutes later.

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch5

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

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Four months, eight days until D-Day

Your body was sore and exhausted. The amount of second guessing you had towards this Super Hero gig was high. This was not something you were used too. What were you thinking when you decided to fight straight up crooks on the street?

You barely survived a roach crawling in front of you. All of this crime fighting was taking a toll on your physical and mental health. You were so tired that you were worried someone would catch on. This secret life of yours needed to be worked on better.

What's worse? Actually villains are starting to pop up! Who the hell would have thought that there was a Vulture in this day and age. Nothing like the one from the great hero age, but goddamn, enough to make you want to cry.

"You look like shit," Miguel grunted as he entered your office. You replied with a whimper as you rubbed your eyes, "This is exactly why my experiments will-"

"Better humanity," You whispered, finishing his sentence. Miguel just gave you a quiet glare before taking a seat on your couch,

"You know what to do. I got knots from dealing with the idiots down in lab two."

"When am I ever going to get repaid this wonderful favor?" You asked with a tease, approaching him from behind.

"When you do as much work as me," Miguel scoffed in response.

You just chuckled weakly towards him as you massaged his shoulders. Thanks to your night life, you were too tired to argue or complain with Miguel during the day. You weren't sure if Miguel liked that or not yet.

Dozing off as you pinched Miguel's shoulders, you tried to focus on your main task. You needed to find a good time to approach Miguel as Spider Woman. You needed him to listen to you. To answer your questions.

--------

Miguel had closed his eyes for a moment as you relaxed his tense muscles. It wasn't long for him to feel your touch soften that he regained his senses. Right as he went to complain, Miguel felt your head rest against his neck.

Confused, he glanced towards you, finding you asleep. Your breathing was soft as your hands still rested against his back. This would drive any man crazy, but not Miguel. Getting up, Miguel was careful to lay you against the couch.

"What's got her this tired?" He muttered under his breathe, "Lyla-"

"Let's see. (Y/N) recently signed up gym membership, telling her friends that she feels like she's too fat. Oh, she's also being flirted with by the new IT guy. Let's seeeee-"

"I didn't ask for all that," Miguel rolled his eyes before glancing back down at you, "If she had Spider Woman's strength, she wouldn't be this tired...but I wouldn't know that until I get a blood sample from that hero."

"Don't say that too loud or poor (Y/N) might cry in her sleep," Lyla teased as Miguel started to leave the office.

With a quick lock behind him, Miguel ignored his AI-whom was having fun with the situation. In order to stop hearing his AI, Miguel requested Lyla to set an alarm for you. Today was the day that the last prisoner was going to be tested.

Miguel needed you there.

"Oh, and Lyla, have that new IT guy join us for our experiment today. We could always use more...witnesses."

--------

You gasped and shot up from your slumber to the sound of a roaring alarm. Attempting to calm your racing heart, you spotted Lyla in the corner of your eyes. She gave you a simple wave and informed you of Miguel's experiment that was starting soon. Your fave turned a million shades of red once you recalled what happened before you slept.

"Lyla! Is Miguel angry with me?!" You panicked, trying to fix yourself up. Lyla smiled as she appeared before you,

"Miguel can never be angry at you!"

"But-"

"Trust me!"

As much as you wanted to doubt Lyla's words, you knew that Miguel has done worse for smaller things. Perks of being his only friend here...if that was even safe to call yourselves. It were moments like these that really made you wonder what Miguel was thinking.

If he didn't like you, then what were you to him? The thoughts sometimes made you go insane. Most of the time it just led you to crying when you were alone, wishing that Miguel would just show you some affection.

Hurrying to the lab, you grabbed your tablet and readied for the notes. You could still feel your heart aching as you wondered the look Miguel was going to give you. As you arrived, you noticed a few different and new faces.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" The new IT guy waved to you.

"Oh...Hey, Aaron. Um, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"Mr. O'Hara said something about wanting to have someone ready to fix the machine if it broke down."

Ohhhhh, Miguel had something up his leave. You just gave Aaron and innocent smile since you didn't have the heart to tell him that he is being played. Though, you never took Miguel as one to hate any of the IT people. He let them work since they were the only ones aside from him who could fix his stuff.

"So, (Y/N), if it isn't too much trouble, I was wondering if I could take you out-"

"(Y/N), did you get enough rest?" Miguel hummed lowly as he approached you from behind.

You could feel your body warm up as Miguel pressed his weight against your back. This was the closest Miguel had ever been to you! Hesitating, you turned to face him, almost feeling hazy from the direct contact.

"S-Sorry, Miguel. I...I didn't mean to fall asleep," You apologized. Your breathing hitched as Miguel placed his hand against your cheek,

"It's fine. I've been working you too hard," His voice was low and sweet, turning you into putty.

--------

Miguel hid his smirk as he watched poor little Aaron shake in anger. Oh, the joy in taking away one's love interest. It was Aaron's fault. How dare he have eyes on you. Didn't he know better? You belonged to Miguel.

Miguel was a selfish man. While he may never make a move on you, it was still fun to show off that you belonged to him. Even now, just a few sweet words of concern and a small touch of affection nearly brought you to your knees. Now, Miguel couldn't lie, that look you were giving him was tempting.

"Let's start the experiment. (Y/N), watch closely."

"Yes, Miguel," You cooed, running off to your usual spot.

Miguel chuckled darkly before he turned to face Aaron. The poor man was holding back so much.

"Aaron, thanks for coming. Do make yourself useful."

"Yes, sir."

The anger in his voice was hilarious to Miguel. Before Miguel started, he reviewed everything once more. This was the last prisoner. This one had to succeed. It just had too! Miguel was going to resort to desperate measures if nothing came out of this.

Growling in anger at the thought, Miguel told everyone to start the experiment.

---------

If it were possible, hearts would be floating above your head. You couldn't hide your smile as you started to take notes. Perhaps Miguel did have a heart inside him! His touch was so gentle and warm. You had wanted to melt right into his palm.

"ARGH!"

Gasping lowly, you came back to your senses as the poor prisoner screamed in agony. This was cruel. Glancing at Miguel, you saw his face twist with pleasure. How could someone be so heartless? No, you had to see the light in him.

Miguel can still be saved!

"I'LL KILL YOU!" The prisoner screamed.

You shivered as you felt your spider senses go haywire. Something was wrong, but you couldn't act. Not here. After another moment, the prisoner broke free from the chains-his body now morphed into a half spider.

Eyes widening in horror, you watched as the scientists tried to restrain the prisoner. Miguel, on the other hand, was laughing. Finally, he had a success. Although, this was still far from what he was looking for. This was still far from him cloning you.

"Youuu!"

Once again, your spider senses went crazy. You returned your attention to the prisoner and gasped as he charged towards you. You needed to move, but like how you used too. You couldn't move like you do now.

"(Y/N)!"

--------

This was great. Perfect even. Finally, Miguel had something successful! Although, this wasn't exactly what he was hoping for, but anything at this point is a win. Miguel could just keep testing on the prisoner to see what helped make this time different.

Hearing the pathetic attempts of his coworkers to subdue the prisoner, Miguel hissed as he had Lyla get security. Why was it so hard to find good help?

"Youuuuu!"

Miguel let out, yet another, sigh as he turned his attention to the feral prisoner. His brows furrowed since the idiot was charging straight towards you.

You, frozen like a deer in headlights. Miguel wasn't sure what this feeling was inside his chest, but he dashed towards you. Lord, you were dumb, but move!

"(Y/N)!" Miguel roared out.

Why wasn't he fast enough? Miguel cussed as you screamed, rolling onto the floor as the prisoner dashed into the bench you were sitting. Finally reaching you, Miguel picked you up and hurried out of the lab. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you started to sob.

"Get back here!!!" The prisoner screamed.

"Tch, worked better than I expected." Miguel hissed before coming to a halt.

His wonderful test subject had crawled on the ceiling and landed right in front of the exit. Your grip tighten around Miguel as the two of you stared at the fearsome beast before you. Unable to hide his displeasure, Miguel scoffed,

"Killing me is too dull, why don't you have some more fun with it?" He spoke to the beast.

"Oh? I'd have you strapped on that table, screaming and dying like all the others." The prisoner hissed as acid dropped from him mouth. You tugged against Miguel's lab coat,

"M-Miguel, what are-"

"Fine, but let this little lamb leave. You can kill the lot of us after," Miguel offered, placing you on your feet.

"Miguel, no-"

"Deal, but only to give her a running start. I'll devour her after I'm done with you all."

Miguel chuckled lowly before turning towards you. You trembled slightly, not wanting to let go, but Miguel gave you a push towards the door.

--------

You nearly held you breathe as you stepped out of the lab. Once the door shut, you dashed towards the closest closet with no camera. Miguel was trusting you to get Spider Woman, that or he actually had a death wish.

Either way, he saved you....so now you were going to do the same.

"I'm coming, Miguel."

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Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011

[addie4ddie2005]

HI HELLO IT'S ME AGAIN- I completely underestimated how long a SINGLE comic page takes to make and because of some lil frustrating parts (I'm looking at you perspective) I kinda pushed it to a corner for a while so I've only got 3 done out 12. AND CH4 IS NEAR sooo.... I've only got this to offer in the rising excitement:

My fav panel :D (out of THREE. I hateeverything/j). It's just supposed to be how I imagined my fav "kicking my feet back and forth" scene from ch3.

I SWEARTHAT I WILL FIND THE MOTIVATION TO FINISH THE 12 PAGES❗❗ I just need to get over that damm PERSPECTIVE and how I can't make the reader just a oval like 'nito-

AAAAAA CEO of In Pixel Haze spotted!! 📸📸📸 (it’s you)

Dude this is sooo good so easy on the eyes!! The way you imagined this scene is so cozyyy I love the colors. Looks warm. (The way it happened in my head was that the two goobers were in the void looking at this big ahh screen like “COMPUTER… fetch me axolotl.jpg” type beat lmaooo but I love to let The People decide what’s going on!! It is a self-insert after all!! That’s also why I didn’t write his reaction to your “sure okay” reply… lowkey was kinda dancing the line between platonic/romantic I didn’t wanna get too cute 🥲 Promise I’m not sacrificing anything 4 that tho aha.)

Okay back to this page… the meat… that axolotl is stunning! She looks the goopiest! Blown away by the detail work 😭😭😭 your shading is incredibleee. And Reader looks MISERABLE /POS /POS <3 Loving how expressive and mobile Kinito is too! Just him swinging his leg up like that the has the whole vibe more energetic and interesting you really know how to draw the Nito!! Like this straight-up looks like professional work.

It is so sweet how you imprinted on this scene!! Also TWELVE PAGES?? Do you realize I’m scratching at my enclosure rn? It’s the same as you told me… no rush at all dude take your time,, you’re gonna KILL that perspective!! It already looks great!!

Tysm your work is always hype and I end up writing sooo much so fast when I see it in my inbox (wrote a huge chunk last night when I saw this we’re at 5000 words ahehe) You BET I’m looking back at it for motivation all tha time!!

All that to say 💕🫡💕🫡💕🫡💕

[dojunie]

MISDIAL; LJN [CH4] PICK UP THE PHONE!

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; none

chapter wc: 9.5k / comment on this post for taglist!

taglist: @hibernatinghamster @jenoxygen @eaglesnotravens @donutswithjaminthemiddle @jvjsssnaa @huangrenhyucks @luvenshiti @shiningdery @jaeminsbebu @aliceinwhateverland @bebsky@gem-gem @jkjkseo @jenosbliss @pewpewpwe00 @ti--red @philanarose @softbbyg0rl @aaasteroidsky @carelessshootanonymous @en-boyz @jlsavyy @roseymerrie @bangchanisemo @skuezk @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples @ourbeautifulaffair@jeonnyread @jvjsssnaa @episkeyjeno @bockhyun @jenojammin @zarastrawberry @peachie-bear @itadaramaterasu @alymii @cuteejeno @episkeyjeno @nohunlee @ooojisoo @luv4jeno @not-clemb @jydivrs @maeyoung @axmdocs @nctzennikki09 @pinkysinnerbaby

unable to tag: @jenojenoyes

[a/n]: merry early christy mass

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.

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“SO. ARE WE GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT?”

It’s 7:38AM, and Jeno has finally driven for long enough that the Palisades building is no longer looming in his rearview mirror. In a perfect world he’d be heading back to his apartment right now to sleep away the next twelve hours of his life— but Jeno’s life has not been perfect since you moved back to Seoul, and he knows even before Donghyuck finishes speaking that the following conversation is going to be unbearable.

The man in the backseat slurps obnoxiously from the thermos he’s got at his lips. “Frankly, I’m a little suspicious that we’re not already talking about it. Because there is like… no chance neither of you have anything to say about all of that.”

“All of what,” Jaemin asks, nonplussed. “Your sudden closeness with little Jeon?”

Donghyuck scoffs, taking another loud sip from the borrowed bedazzled cup. The contents held within is fresh brewed coffee courtesy of the small Starbucks Jeon Somi’s has on her kitchen counter, and he’s practically perched on top of the center console because he’s leaning so far forward. “No, prick. Don’t even start. All of that being last fucking night. You know,” he prods very pointedly, “At Wooyoung’s?”

For a split second, Jeno’s mind goes completely elsewhere. Wooyoung’s. The guy was more Jaemin’s friend than his but he’d been invited to the party anyway, initially with a polite promise to swing by for an hour or two before clearing out to avoid the storm rolling in. Then, a few hours later at Mark’s place, you. Wandering into the apartment none the wiser to his presence, squinting into the depths of your phone; and the only thing Jeno can remember from the seconds before you looked up and shut him out again was wondering how the hell he didn’t notice how much you’d changed. 

If he was being honest, it's something that's been bothering him since that night at Nabi Bar. Because you’d always been cute. Ask anybody with eyes. In highschool you were cute enough that sometimes Jeno didn’t quite understand why no one else seemed to be thinking about it as much as he was. Everything you did made him want to pick you up and shake you like a dog with a new toy. But somewhere along the lines, this…shifted. 

“What about Wooyoung’s?” Jaemin sighs. “We were there for like, four hours. You’re going to have to be more—”

“You and Y/N,” Donghyuck says unrepentantly, striking right to the heart of his curiosity. “Mark’s birthday up in the woods, the lake house, whatever the fuck happened there. Her truth or drink question. To be specific.”

Jeno isn’t the best at understanding his own feelings, and he’ll admit that easily. So if he’s being serious about when he first realized something had shifted, when he noticed that something was undeniably different about you— he’d, coincidentally, also have to point a finger towards the weekend they all spent at the lake house. It was the first time he’d properly seen you in nearly a year. He’d shown up at Mark’s parents house with the van full of guys and hung out downstairs in the same living room he used to spend every afternoon in before college came and whisked them all away, and waited for you and your brother to come down.

And he’s not proud of this, but. Well.

Well, when you did eventually reveal yourself, finding his eyes amongst the crowd of his friends perking up at your arrival… he’d been expecting a bigger reaction. 

He’d been working out more, is all. And he’d grown his hair out for the first time since he was a little kid, and had finally grown accustomed to the pokey, itchy world of contacts. He looked different. He felt different. He’d just finished his first year of college and was definitely feeling a little too cool about it. And in high school you used to look at him like he had done something great for just simply existing— so he’d been ready for you to all but drop when you saw him now— but you’d run your gaze over Jeno for what felt like half a second before turning to Renjun, smiling widely at this new guy like you’d been waiting to meet him and only him. 

And he remembers being… confused.

That had been the first clue that something about you (or, maybe, something about him) had changed.

“Na Jaemin. You are absolutely not going to sit here and not explain what the hell she was talking about.”

“It was over a year ago,” Jaemin says. The uneasy beat that followed Donghyuck’s question was nothing to be envied, but Jeno wholeheartedly preferred the silence over actually listening to this conversation. “And you heard her. There’s nothing to explain. She was getting over someone, I was getting over someone, and like most stupid teenagers do, we did the only thing that came to mind—”

“Okay but you understand that she’s not like most stupid teenagers, right? You hooked up with Mark’s little sister. On his birthday. At his birthday party. Did you have a death wish? Why are you both acting like this isn’t breaking goddamn news?”

“Because it isn’t news,” Jaemin replies sharply. “For a myriad of reasons. Can you not phrase it like I was trying to seduce the Virgin Mary?”

“I’m not phrasing it like anything! I just… I mean, you’re not seriously going to pretend like this isn’t absolutely insane, right? It’s hard to imagine—”

“What about two people hooking up is so insane to you?”

Donghyuck seems flabbergasted by this. “Jaemin. Everything. Everything about it is insane. Because it’s not just two people ‘hooking up’. Of all the people on earth you could have— and trust me, the number of options you have is high, I’ve heard some of the shit the girls on campus say about you— you chose her? The single person on this earth that Mark would flay you alive for even—”

Jaemin snaps his eyes to the rearview mirror, and Donghyuck’s words cut short. “Is Y/N a human being to you?”

A stunned second passes.

“Or is she just some attachment to Mark, some little doll with no will of her own? You realize that this is why she hates being around us so much, right? Why she’s never around in her own fucking apartment? Did you even notice that you’ve only ever said her name once in this whole conversation? Do you know what you’ve been calling her?”

Jaemin’s question hangs in the air like a physical weight. Mark’s little sister. It hits Jeno like a punch; his hand tightens around the steering wheel with immediate guilt. Guilt for not even noticing how interchangeably they’d all been using the words in the first place and, much deeper down, knowing that even if Jaemin wasn’t talking to him, Jeno was definitely the worst culprit in the vein of only seeing you as an extension of your brother. 

That’s basically what you’d told him on the balcony before you left and took half of his spirit with you. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Donghyuck says, sufficiently chided. All the gossip-seeking enthusiasm has drained from his voice. Now he just sounds sorry. “You know that’s not what I meant. That’s not how any of us see her.”

“I know that,” Jaemin says quietly, returning his gaze to the window. “She doesn’t.”

They ride in silence for almost a whole block before Jaemin sighs. 

“She found me after I got off the phone with Jurin for the last time,” he supplies, unable to ignore Donghyuck’s scolded pouting. “Sometime while you guys were off getting wood for the campfire.” 

Perking up a little in the backseat, Donghyuck tentatively asks, “At… At the lake house?” 

And, having foolishly assumed the reprimand would've ended this conversation, Jeno almost wants to slam his head against the headrest when Jaemin nods and he realizes they're not done talking about you. He feels raw; sensitive and uncomfortable and combative. It's residual from what just happened with you, he knows that, and he also knows saying something will probably just draw attention he does not want, but he still can't help but blurt; “Do you really need to hear the details, man?” 

He’s not sure who he surprises more by the edge in his voice: himself or the other two. Both turn to look at Jeno like he’s just magically appeared in the vehicle.

Donghyuck is so caught off guard by the distaste that he actually rocks back a little bit in his seat.

“I’m not asking for those kinds of details!” he exclaims, scandalized. “I just want to know how it went down beforehand, because as far as I remember, they were the perfect picture of normalcy on that trip! Jaemin was a little sulkier than normal because of the whole girlfriend-breaking-up-with-him thing, but he perked up after, like…”

Donghyuck trails off. Then after a very long second he gasps, sounding almost appalled, forgetting Jeno again immediately.

“When we came back from camping because it started raining, you were like a totally different person. It was then, wasn’t it? You and her stayed back. I remember being worried that you were going to bore her to death if she ever came out of her room. Holy shit, dude, don’t tell me you guys planned—”

Jaemin whirls around. “Do you think I’m completely crazy?”

“Well how am I supposed to know, when you won’t tell us anything?!”

“You really want to know so badly?” Jaemin says, fed up. No, Jeno thinks uselessly.

“Earlier in the afternoon Y/N heard me on the phone with Jurin and figured something was wrong. She came over to talk to me about it and I found out that she was having guy problems of her own, so we tried to make each other feel better— Verbally," Jaemin tells, pointedly adding the last word when Donghyuck's eyebrows jump in scandal. "The next time I saw her was when you guys left to go camping and we stayed back. I was watching a movie in the living room and she asked if she could join me because she couldn’t sleep, and— And after that you can put two and two together. That’s it.”

“Prude,” Donghyuck mutters. When Jaemin shoots him another look in the mirror though, he’s the perfect picture of innocence. “—Is what I would have said, if you were talking about any other girl, ha ha. Anyway! Did you guys kiss?”

Jeno's arms tense up so quickly that he almost swerves into oncoming traffic. Hyuck nearly topples out of his seat.

“Fucking hell—! Hey! You’ve got precious cargo back here, jackass!”

“Pothole,” Jeno bites. 

He’s lying through his teeth. But it’s the only thing he could think of. There’s no such thing as a pothole out here— they’re in Gangnam, on a main goddamn road, but he can almost feel Jaemin’s eyes on the side of his face, so keeps his eyes sharply forward despite the fact that his ears are no doubt already starting to flush pink from discomfort.

“I’m not telling you that,” Jaemin replies after a second. “Voyeur.”

“What? What type of sense does that make? You two literally fucked on our communal couch, but asking about a kiss is too—”

Even if it feels like every nerve instantly lights ablaze under his skin from this comment, Jeno is much better about controlling his expression this time around. It probably wouldn’t have mattered because in the moment after the words left Donghyuck’s mouth Jaemin whirled around in his seat to pinch him, a sharp grab at his thigh that had the boy yowling in surprise— and then immediately thereafter, agony, because Jaemin’s strength is nothing to sneeze at. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” Jaemin hisses. “Not a word of this is leaving this car. Do you understand me, Lee Donghyuck? If you tell anybody—”

“Okay, okay!” Donghyuck cries out. “Fuck, do you have razors under your nails?! I think I’m bleeding!”

“I’m serious,” Jaemin continues darkly. “You can laugh about it all you want, but we all know exactly how Mark is going to react if he finds out and I am not interested in playing the odds on whether he ends my life via strangulation or vicious beating. Keep your mouth shut.”

Donghyuck is still muttering to himself, rubbing bitterly at the spot where Jaemin sniped him.

He’s thinking of ways to reassure Jaemin, probably. Or maybe that’s just what Jeno hopes he’s doing, because a younger him could have used some reassurance that Mark possibly wouldn’t have tried to kill him where he stood if, back in highschool, he’d ignored your brother's wishes entirely and actually told you how he felt. 

But Donghyuck simply says, “Remember when we all watched him punch that watermelon in half during spirit week? Back in our senior year, when they were still finding chunks of it a week later in, like, the ceiling rafters and shit? I think my money is on him beating you to death if he finds out you slept with his sister.”

And on that very positive note, Jeno flicks his turn signal on and coasts into the lane that’ll take him right back to SNU.

It’s four days later, Jeno hasn’t seen you once in that span of time, and he’s beginning to think it’s driving him a little insane, because he’s been staring pathetically at a photo of you on Mark’s fridge for the last five minutes. You’re mid-laugh and you’ve got one arm tight around Mark’s neck— you’re both on the beach, jeans rolled up to your knees, and your hair is a startling, bright red.

Back in highschool, when you were a junior and he was a senior, you’d had a short lived obsession with dying your hair. Mark had mentioned it to him in passing, recalling the half a dozen conversations he’d witnessed of you trying to convince your parents to let you bleach it, but he hadn’t really thought about it too seriously until he was over at Mark’s house to work on a project a few weeks later. Your brother, who’s brain stopped working properly when he was hungry, tapped out after about fifteen minutes to hit the convenience store a few blocks away for a pint of ice cream and a few energy drinks. 

It was only after the front door slammed shut that Jeno even realized you were home; he was slouched in Mark’s desk chair scrolling listlessly through his phone when he heard the bedroom door creak open, and turned around expecting your brother. It was not your brother.

It was you. Standing in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights as your eyes met, dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, hair slicked down to your head with cherry red dye— it was all over your hands, splattered down your neck, an artful blob on the tip of your nose.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. He hadn’t seen you this close for a few weeks now, since this was around the time that you’d started hanging out with your friends more and were rarely ever home. That was what he blamed for the way his brain seemed to start buffering at the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

You stood up straight and hid your hands behind your back like he hadn’t already seen them in all their bloody glory, and said, “I thought you… Left. Just now. With Mark.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. You stared at each other some more. Then, because he wasn’t quite sure what else to do and he’s never really been good at reading a room, he said,“You missed a bit, there. On the top.”

You stiffened, and then your whole body slumped like he’d cut your strings with those eight words alone. “I know. Mark has a little mirror in here somewhere that I was going to steal while he was gone, because I didn’t realize until it was too late that I couldn't see the back of my own head.”

And somehow this ended up with Jeno standing behind you in your bathroom, dutifully brushing red goo into your scalp as you fidgeted and twitched and tried to pretend you weren’t staring at him in the mirror, even though it was very obvious that you were. Jeno pretended, like he’d been doing for the last three years, that he didn’t notice— even if he was finding it a little harder than normal to not stare right back.

Back then, he chalked up his jitters to all of the physical things that were happening in that moment. He credited his desire to stand a little closer to you than necessary to the pleasant scent of cherry coming from the dye in your hair, and blamed the uneven straps on your tank top for the reason his eyes kept drifting to the curve of your shoulders. He was hyper-focusing on the tiny beauty mark below your ear not because he found it fascinating, but because it was easier to keep his eyes trained on that than to risk forgetting what he was doing and finding your eyes in the mirror.

When the dye ran out and your head was sufficiently gooped, he’d been gearing up to ask if you needed help washing it out too, when the sound of the garage door opening whispered through the house and you stiffened. In an instant you were plucking the empty dye bowl from his hands and then herding him out of your bathroom— startled, he turned around to mention his sweater, only to find it flying at his chest with enough force to knock him back against the hallway wall. Your eyes were huge as you stood in the bathroom doorway, hand already on the door as if already positioning to slam it shut.

“Don’t tell Mark you helped me,” you said quickly, before blinking very hard a few times, “And— Thank you? This probably would have turned out like shit if you didn’t offer to help me. Thanks.”

Downstairs, the front door opened. Jeno stood there with his balled up sweatshirt in his hands suddenly feeling very odd. Only later did he realize that feeling was hesitance. He didn’t want to go yet. “Why can’t I tell him?” he asked.

“Because Mark’s going to freak out when he sees me, and I don’t want him to get mad at you too for, like, being an accessory to my crime.”

“An accessory to your what?”

“Oh,” you said belatedly. Then you raised your eyebrows at him, lip quirking into an innocent smile that felt like anything but, and his stomach twisted. “Might’ve said too much.”

Your brother's voice rang up the stairs and Jeno made the mistake of turning towards the landing. By the time he turned back to you, mouth opening to speak— even though he wasn’t even sure what he was planning to say— he only caught the last glimpse of your red stained hand through the shutting the door.

Mark returned a few moments later to find Jeno sitting back in the desk chair, back to peering into his phone, but what he probably didn’t notice was that Jeno was really staring at the little, cherry colored splotch on his palm.

Back then he hadn’t known yet, just what he was feeling. He didn’t put two and two together to realize why whenever he’d see the color red in the corner of his eye at school after that, he’d turn around in the middle of a conversation to see if you were passing by; why, when the school strong-armed you into dying it back to its natural color a few days later, the missing cherry red had bothered him more than he could justify. It took him another few months to really get it.

“No-Jam! Dude, did you get lost in there or something? The cola is in the little—The bin thing! In the back!”

Mark’s voice pitches over the rest of his friends' muffled bickering and right through the memory he’s sunk into, and he tears his eyes away from the fridge to remember who he is and what he’s supposed to be doing right now. 

It’s movie night. He’s been put in charge of drinks now that the take-out has arrived, and yet he’s malingering in the kitchen like some kind of sad voyeur. Right. 

He snatches the cans and shuts the door a little harder than necessary, if only to get away from that photo of you faster. The conversation he returns to isn’t much different than the one he’d left; initially it was Chucky versus Annabelle, now when he sits the rack of soda on the coffee table and sinks back down between Jaemin and Jisung, it’s Jason versus Michael. Hyuck is ripping his hair out trying to explain that Michael is a borderline mutant and therefore obviously the winner in this bracket, and per usual, Chenle is completely unbothered and arguing the opposite solely to raise their friend’s blood pressure.

This would usually be Jeno’s pre-movie entertainment, chiming in with the occasional fact check to keep the sides even, but tonight he can’t focus on their debate. Instead, his eyes drift towards the clock on Mark’s TV stand. 

7:06. He frowns. 

“Where is Little Lee, by the way? Out getting into trouble?”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Jeno snaps back to attention at the sound of your nickname.

Mark shrugs in response, completely unbothered, even though Jeno is almost boring holes into the side of Mark’s head waiting for an answer to Renjun's question. “She’s at dance practice. Been at it all week for her showcase, and it goes real late. She should be back in about an hour if you’re looking for her.”

“Not looking,” Renjun says, “Only noticed she hasn’t been around. What showcase?”

“Goodness,” Jaemin coos. “My hard worker. Saw her this morning on my way to chem, looked a little like death, eyes all dark and broody. I guess that's why?”

“She leaves in the morning before I do, too. Probably dead tired.”

Mark tries to return to scrolling through Netflix’s catalog but Renjun, not satiated, flaps his hand in front of his face. “Wait, but what showcase, though? I didn’t even know anything was coming up. The school is hosting something?”

“Not the school,” Jisung offers instead. He sounds oddly eager to talk about it, and for a second Jeno is rattled by the idea of Jisung paying enough attention to you to know the intricacies of your schedule, until he realizes it’s the topic he’s excited about. “It’s this thing called the Aegon Showcase, a big competition for unknown hip-hop dancers. It’s a nationwide thing so it’s broken up into different showcases in every province, and there technically aren’t supposed to be favorites, because talent is like, everywhere, but pretty much everyone knows that the Seoul competition is the most popular. It’s pretty difficult to get chosen for Seoul, and yet Y/N’s team got in. They even air it on TV.”

Chenle whistles. “I knew about the competition, but I didn’t know all that. That sounds like a big deal.”

He remembers how sheepish you’d been when Somi told them in his car; the awfully shy look he’d caught on your face when your eye met in the mirror. 

“It is a big deal!” Jisung declares, sounding proud. “Yonsei hasn’t been on the roster since 2016, so the guys in my hip-hop class are pretty excited about it. There’s posters up in all the hallways of the performance building and noona’s name is all over them. Jeongsob nearly knocked my head off when he found out I had a ticket to see it live, and I didn’t even tell him it was center house because I thought he’d really hit me.”

“A ticket?” Renjun’s spine straightens indignantly. “From where? When was this an option? I want to go!”

Jisung’s shrug is interrupted by the loud smack of Donghyuck’s mouth as he swallows a swig of his soda. “This is how I know you don’t read my messages.”

“What?”

“I sent you the ticket, loser. I sent everyone the ticket like, a week ago.”

“Where the hell did you get them?”

A beat of silence as Donghyuck stares at him, before he realizes Renjun is serious and begins to whine. “So you don’t read my messages or listen to me. Somi. Jeon Somi! Rockstar’s little blonde bestie pulled some strings and gave us all tickets. Gave the rest of us tickets, should I specify, since Y/N-ie doesn’t love us and only got one for Mark.” 

The Mark in question only hums proudly. 

“Right up in front,” Donghyuck continues. “All she’d tell me is that they’re opening with DNA.”

“By BTS?”

Chenle scoffs. “By Kendrick Lamar. My God. Listen to something other than Seoul Top 50.”

“Their tracklist must be stacked if they’re opening with Lamar,” Jisung adds, awed.

Jeno has never really seen you dance before. It’s something he’s always known about you, sure, but only through word of mouth; He knew you started dancing because of Mark, since your brother has been telling the story to anyone who would listen for half a decade. How you were dragged along to his lesson one day, bitter about missing out on an afternoon of Guitar Hero for some ‘lousy physical activity’, when the dance teacher happened to notice how quickly you’d been picking up on the moves. She convinced you to come to another, and then another, until you ended up attending those classes more often than Mark did.

Those lessons had been before you and Mark transferred to their school though. Mark dropped dance to pick up basketball, which meant Jeno didn’t hear much about it from him, and while you kept up with it, it wasn’t like the two of you were close enough to talk about things like that. 

So it simply stayed a fun-fact. A topic only brought up in passing, like Mark randomly mentioning a competition you had one weekend, or apologizing for being late because he had to pick you up from a lesson across town.

A topic only brought up in passing until the next words that fall out of your brother's mouth.

“That’s the type of music she dances to all the time though,” Mark says belatedly. “Kendrick Lamar I mean. She has like, four or five videos on Youtube from that album alone. It was her favorite for a while.”

“She has videos on youtube?” Jeno blurts. 

The world pauses. Or it feels that way to him, since he hadn’t even registered the ending of Mark’s sentence before his own mouth was opening without his permission. It’s the first words he’s spoken in nearly half an hour and it shows in how they all glance at him, varying from brief confusion to clear interest in his sudden curiosity— and he instantly wants to kick himself considering that the latter comes from Jaemin, who’s already suspicious that he’s hiding something.

Mark furrows his eyebrows, staring back at Jeno like your presence on youtube is just supposed to be common knowledge. 

“I never told you guys? Freshman year of highschool, she had this channel she’d upload all her dance class videos to. Mostly just for progress, to see how she improved, but I guess they must’ve hit some weird algorithm or something because the videos actually ended up doing super well.”

“Rockstar is famous?” Jaemin asks.

Mark scratches his chin. “Subjectively, I guess so. I meant doing well as in like, a dozen of the videos have broken a hundred thousand views, but subscriber wise she’s not—”

Donghyuck chokes so violently on his cola that it sounds like he’s being waterboarded. Instinctually Jisung starts to pat his back, but even he looks surprised; not that Jeno is confused by why. A hundred thousand? 

The second that Donghyuck is able to form words again he all but demands Mark pull up her channel on the TV, which is when he finally seems to realize the predicament he’s put you in. All of your older brothers' friends. Watching your old highschool videos. Without your knowledge. Any little sister’s waking nightmare.

Mark tries to backtrack; ‘Ah, well, the whole reason she stopped uploading was because she got embarrassed about all the attention. She’d seriously kill me if she knew I showed you guys.’  But Hyuck only grins. ‘You damned yourself to that the second you mentioned it at all, tiger. You know I’ll just find it on my own if you don't, right? I’ve got resources!’

Doubtful. Donghyuck can’t even find files on his own computer, much less sift through the entire internet for a few six year old videos from a person that’s no longer uploading. Even though Mark doesn’t look fully convinced, glancing warily between his phone and the clock like he’s worried you’ll walk through the door the second he picks up the remote, Jeno knows he’ll fold. He always does.

We shouldn’t, he could say to help. Y/N wouldn’t like it. You know she wouldn’t. 

He would’ve a month ago. Maybe even a week ago. 

But right now he’s mortifyingly desperate to see you again, even if it’s only through the glass of a screen. So he does nothing but swallow his shame when Mark sighs, “One video. One! And if she finds out, dude, I’m telling her it was you!” and snatches the remote from the coffee table. He does nothing when Mark scrolls through the seemingly endless list of people he’s subscribed to, and he continues to do nothing when you blip to life on the television, Xx_SGirl2002_xX’s youtube channel.

Mark presses play on the first video there is, the last thing ever uploaded to your account— a three-minute clip titled ‘Kiss Kiss - Chris Brown, (J’HO’s ADV class)’ with ninety-eight thousand views. 

Jeno knows it’s 2016 from the date in the description but for some reason he’s still startled by how young you are here. This is how you looked when he met you, and its a whiplash he isn't prepared for. Fourteen years old with a glare that could cut down grown men. You have on a baseball cap that Jeno recognizes because it actually belongs to Mark, and an oversized t-shirt over a pair of green sweatpants (that Jeno also recognizes, because you wore them around your house all the time in high school)— but there’s no time to get into the intricacies of your outfit because soon enough the beat kicks in and Donghyuck is squealing like this is his favorite song.

You’re dancing with four others who look just as confident as you, bouncing on their feet before the choreo starts, but it immediately becomes clear why you’re in the front. Your movement is so natural that Jeno would’ve thought you were freestyling if it wasn’t for the others you’re on beat with, easily capturing the center of attention with your style— though he knows you’re not intending to. 

That’s how you’ve always been. The brightest person in the room, without even realizing it.

It’s not as surprising as he expects it to be. Despite never having seen you attempt to dance in front of him in your life, he’d somehow always known you were going to be this good. It’s familiarity probably that keeps his eyes on you, even when the videos go on and on and on and new dancers filter in and out of the choreographies. He’s only made aware of how blatantly he’s ignoring everyone else in your videos when Jisung excitedly points out that he recognizes one guy you’re dancing with, some famous popper in the hip-hop circuit, and Jeno has to drag his eyes away from you to even realize you’re dancing with a man in the first place. 

Too engrossed in showing you off now to remember why he’d been so hesitant in the first place, Mark, obviously, fails to stick to his word. They’re on video four or five when there’s the very, very sudden sound of the front door handle rattling. 

It’s mere dumb luck that Mark manages to scramble for the remote fast enough to mute the TV before you get the door open. It’s even luckier that you wander into the apartment with both your headphones in and your eyes squinted at something on your phone. It’s just enough time for them to all assume the picture of perfect innocence when you do finally look up— appearing almost startled by the sight of them all staring at you with wide eyes, silent and still like a bunch of weeping angels.

Jeno for an entirely different reason than the rest of them, however.

“Hello… all?” you greet, clearly suspicious, but you can’t seem to put your finger on the reason they’re all looking at you, and this makes the whole room seem to relax. 

“You’re late, Rockstar,”  Jaemin says, playfully scolding, “Take-out’s gone cold.”

“I ate before practice. What are you guys doing?”

“Is it not obvious? Movie night, of course!”

There’s a beat as you glance at the TV behind their heads, all their eyes on you, before you nod slowly. 

“Movie night. Right. Uh. I’m going to head in early since I have to be out of here early tomorrow, so try not to have too much… fun out here. I’ll leave you guys to it then?” 

You readjust your duffel on your shoulder and pull an apple from the bowl on the island as you pass, not sparing a glance behind as you head for your room.

“Too much fun?” Jaemin echoes quietly beside him, the both of them still staring off after where you’d just been, when Donghyuck curses and brings their attention back to the front.

“Are you fucking— Has this been on the screen the whole time?”

It’s only belatedly Jeno realizes that, in his haste to just get your youtube channel off the screen, Mark must’ve just pressed any recommended video from the suggestions. Even if it didn’t make the most sense for them to be so diligently watching. Because, still muted, a video of an aerobics class plays on the TV dozens of women in a giant studio, dressed in very tight, very small clothes, all bending over and lunging and casually contorting their bodies into positions that would probably make nuns across the country blush. 

Quite the movie you walked in on them watching. Together. Without speaking. On mute. Mark gasps when he realizes this and snatches the remote again, frantically clicking on something else like the damage hasn’t already been done, and Chenle laughs until he cries when he, also, finally understands what a sight that must’ve been. Jeno probably would’ve found it hilarious too, if he’d been paying attention to it at all.

Instead, all he could really think about was the fact that while he couldn’t take his eyes off of you— you hadn’t thought to look in his direction once.

Movie night comes to a close with two casualties— Renjun and Jisung, snoring and completely unconscious on the couch and floor respectively— Mark shooing the rest of them out at one in the morning with a loud yawn and a promise to continue Scream VI after everyone's classes tomorrow night. 

Per usual, Jeno gets sacked with taking Jaemin home. And per usual, like a Gremlin straight from the films, Jaemin turns into a pit of insatiable hunger after midnight and demands they stop at a drive through so he can get something to eat.

But if Jeno is being honest— he really just wants to go home. 

He’s tired. It’s been a long day. Four classes, basketball practice, having to take his car to get looked at because the air coming out of the aircon kept smelling like burnt lemons. The final nail in the coffin had been you not even batting an eye at him when you’d gotten home, when he’s been physically unable to think of anything else besides you for the last four days.

He is entirely ready to call it a night…  but he knows that he’ll never, ever hear the end of it if he doesn’t take Jaemin somewhere before he drops him off, and it’s only fate that he spies McDonalds golden arches at the next turn signal. 

He whips into the drive through and is preparing to turn right back out of the lot when the food is safely in the vehicle a few minutes later, but Jaemin asks him for something he’s never asked for before.

He asks him to park. 

Jeno glances at him, incredulous, but Jaemin doesn’t seem to be joking at all. “You can’t wait until you’re home?”

“I’m hungry, I said. And I want to eat in peace.”

“You had two whole servings of that Lo Mein and still snuck some off of my plate.”

“Don’t fat shame me,” Jaemin replies mildly, eyeing the steaming contents of the paper bag. “My digestion is only a quarter of the reason. Jaehyun will snatch this from me if he sees me come into the house with it. Just park it, will you?”

And because Jeno has never really been one to argue, despite being annoyed by the detour, he does just that. 

He should’ve known better though. Jaemin knows a dozen ways to sneak food into that apartment without setting off the nose of his brother; the two have been living together for a year and a half. He’s never asked him to park before because he’s never needed Jeno to park— but he doesn’t start realizing any possible ulterior motives until a few minutes in, when (after he’s polished off half of his nuggets in complete silence) Jaemin asks how he’s doing. 

Jeno’s eyebrows dart up to his hairline. “What?”

“I’m asking if you’re okay,” Jaemin says. “Doesn’t take a psychiatrist to see that you’ve been off these last few days. What’s on your mind?”

“What’s on my mind?” 

And only then does he put two and two together.

“Is this... is this an intervention?”

“What? Of course not! I can’t just wonder how my friend is doing?”

“You made me drive you into an empty parking lot at one in the morning because you were just wondering? Are you even hungry?”

“I would never lie about food,” Jaemin says with great offense, seemingly forgetting himself for a moment before he sees the jarred look on Jeno’s face. “Well. Okay. Fine. I just… I heard what happened on the balcony with you and Rockstar a few days ago.”

It’s like being suckerpunched. 

“You’ve been all weird since,” he continues, “And watching you do nothing about it is starting to stress me out.”

Jeno expects to feel angry once the shock wears off; to get mad at Jaemin for eavesdropping, or butting in, or for trying to offer advice Jeno didn’t ask for. But nothing actually comes to him besides an eye twitch, courtesy of Jaemin’s straw squeaking as he stabs it through the soda cup lid. 

He releases the tension from his spine. No need to play coy, then. “Weird is an understatement.”

“Of course it is. You’ve been moping around like you’re about to be executed.” 

“Because I screwed up, man.”

“What?” Jaemin says flippantly. “Hardly. There were a few rough edges, like how you probably could’ve gone without calling the poor girl’s eternal undying love for you… cute, but as far as I know nothing you told her was a lie. I don’t actually see where you went wrong in telling her that her brother was the reason you didn’t acknowledge her feelings when she asked.”

Jaemin says nothing for a moment as he leans forward, shaking and then rifling through the brown bag for the few fries that had somehow escaped his previous sweep. Jeno knows better than to take that speech as final verdict, however. A silence this heavy over ever means that there’s a but. There’s always a—

“If you’re not interested in her anymore, that is. Because what you did up there was pretty straightforward, for someone who was actually trying to let a girl down easy.”

And there it is. Jeno screws his eyes shut and exhales for much, much too long, if only to focus on the feeling of his lungs caving in instead of where he is and what he’s talking about.

“And if I wasn’t trying to let her down easy?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin doesn’t even look at him. Just keeps his eyes trained lazily on the traffic going by, humming as he inserts another whole nugget into his mouth. “Then you’re fucked.”

Okay. Here the anger comes, just a little belated. The wave of irritation that hits him at Jaemin’s stupid reply catches him off guard. Then you’re fucked. If Jeno didn’t already know that would he have asked? Did Jaemin bring him out here to rub it in? Just to hear the details?

Without thinking he jams his middle finger into the push to start, roaring the car’s engine to life— if his only goal was to remind Jeno of his colossal mistake then he could finish his damn nuggests elsewhere.

“Woah, woah!” Jaemin bursts as the car jerks into first gear, big eyes wide in alarm, “Damn, man, I was just— Can I finish before you tear out of here like fucking Batman?”

“Why can’t you just eat while I drive?”

“What? No, I meant finish what I was saying! There’s still hope for you, dipshit!”

And he sounds so sure of himself that Jeno can’t help but hesitate. With a huff that even he knows is petulant, Jeno knocks the shift back into park and drags a heavy, tired hand down his face. “What hope.”

“Have you maybe considered telling her how you feel?”

“Did you pull that from an episode of Dr.Phil?” he mocks childishly, but before he can finish Jaemin socks him in the arm hard enough to make him yelp, patience waning, and wary of being hit again Jeno says the first thing that comes to mind.

“No! No, I’ve never considered it, because I don’t… I don’t know.” 

Jaemin says nothing, so he just keeps going. “I don’t know how I feel. Whenever I felt myself caring too much about what she was doing I’d just chalk it up to Mark’s overprotectiveness rubbing off on me or something, and I’ve been like that for so long that it’s just become my go-to answer. I’ve never let myself think about it long enough to come to any other conclusion. I couldn’t.”

“Because you were scared of what you’d realize if you did?” Jaemin finishes, unsurprised. “You’re so stupid.”

“Fuck off,” Jeno bites, but Jaemin shakes his head. 

“No. You’re actually dumb. You already know how you feel about her. You’ve known. You’ve just never let yourself say it out loud because saying it out loud means confirming it, and confirming it means you have to choose, but not looking at the writing on the wall doesn’t mean it isn’t there. What you still don’t seem to realize is that not choosing is still a choice.”

“A choice that keeps everyone happy,” he replies through a taut jaw. “Y/N got over me, and Mark doesn’t hate my guts. Easy.”

Jaemin looks like he has a lot to say about that statement, but swallows it down to ask the one he finds will get him the closest to his goal. “Why are you even friends with Mark if you think he’ll hate you over something like this?”

“What?”

“Don’t get mad at me, Jeno, actually think. He’s your best friend. You’re closer to brothers than two people who only met in high school. But you swear he’d drop you without a second thought if ever found out that you ever happened to look at Y/N in a way that wasn’t entirely innocent. Why? Are you some sort of threat Mark should be wary of? Do you have nefarious intentions with his baby sister?”

Jeno balks. Jaemin is clearly just trying to rile him up, his questions nothing but rhetorical, but regardless of knowing this Jeno still feels something angry and dark churning in his gut. His voice is a touch sharper than me means for it to be when he says, warningly, “What the hell are you trying to say, Jaemin?“

“I’m not trying to say anything! I’m asking you, because I’m seriously starting to think that you’ve never asked yourself! What reason do you actually have for thinking Mark wouldn’t even hear you out?”

“I know you’ve heard him, man. When he told us she was hanging out with Yeonjun again, you don’t remember that? How pissed he’d get— the tangents he’d go on, how he’d insist no guy was good enough for her, how guys ‘our age’ have nothing good in mind when it comes to chasing after girls? You think just because we’re his friends that rule doesn’t apply to us?”

“I don’t think that, actually,” Jaemin snorts and pulls yet another nugget from the bag. “Especially because Yeonjun was a super senior that was nearing twenty when he graduated, and had a reputation you could see from around corners for using girls like fast food napkins. That’s your big hang up? That Mark didn’t want some sleaze like that hanging around his sister?”

He has a point. But in Jeno’s mind this isn’t nearly enough to undo years and years of Mark’s theoretical judgment hanging over his neck like a guillotine.

“Yeonjun is a strong example, but it still seemed pretty clear to me that he meant that about every guy. Not just the real shitheads.”

“Then you read him wrong.”

Jeno surprises even himself when he laughs. “What makes you so sure, Na?”

“‘Cause he—”  And Jaemin hesitates. All that informative bravado wavers, a visible wave of uncertainty crossing his face. “Because a few years ago he pretty much gave me permission. To go after her, I mean.”

Jeno thought for sure that after Wooyoung’s party he’d really experienced it all. The confusion, at first, as the explanation fell so casually from your mouth; Hooked up with one of your siblings friends, Somi said. But you only had one sibling, and Jeno also was pretty fucking sure he knew all of Mark’s friends since. Some itchy part of him wished you were lying— merely putting a finger down to look cool amongst the party goers and not because you’d actually lost the round, but he knew you and was therefore acutely aware of the fact that you weren’t one to play pretend for strangers. 

Then, before he even had time to come to terms with why he felt so bothered by this knowledge, Somi accidentally outed this mysterious Mosquito Boy and Jeno felt like he’d just been doused in ice. 

In the span of a few seconds he ran though the five stages of grief like a racecar zipping around a closed track. Denial, quick and easy, he thought Somi must’ve just been mistaken. That Jaemin probably just looked like whoever it was that you hooked up with, and in her stupor tried to connect dots that weren’t there. But not only did that stop making sense once he really thought about it— since you explicitly mentioned the lake house and Mark’s birthday, two landmarks that would be very hard to miscalculate— he’d seen the look on your face when Somi said it. 

You weren’t annoyed that she got it wrong. You were terrified because she’d gotten it right.

Then came anger. Sharp and barely contained, Jeno’s eyes drifted from your face to Jaemin’s, and a wash of deep, burning… something, took him over. Jeno might not have been able to name the crime Jaemin committed, because you were both consenting adults who were fully allowed to do what they pleased and it wasn’t like Jaemin was bound by blood to tell them everything he did in his freetime, but Jeno as he watched Jaemin smile at you, none the wiser to what secret of his had just been spilled to half their class, he still felt like he was staring at someone who should be on the top of a wanted list.

There simply was no final stage of acceptance, because for the last week he’s been stuck squarely in depression. Replaying that moment on the balcony over and over again like a kid picking at a scab, moping around campus like some sort of ghost as the days went by.

He thought he’d felt it all, in the last four days. He thought that there were no more bombshells to be dropped. 

This presumption is blown out of the water when, after the near fifteen seconds it takes for him to compute what Jaemin has just said, Jeno finally feels something new. 

And whatever it is, the appearance of it on his face seems to worry Jaemin greatly.

“He gave you… permission?”

“Which I did nothing with,” Jaemin says with careful haste, “I didn’t. He’d just… picked up on something. He took the fact that I dote on her so much as— As a sign, or something, that I liked her, and pulled me aside one day before you and Hyuck got to their house.”

He swallows. “When?” 

“Some time when we were juniors. I know it was close to summer because I just turned eighteen.” He laughs, awkwardly and a little too loud, like this is the first time he’s telling this story and is just now realizing how ridiculous it is. Jeno doesn’t laugh with him. “I asked if Rockstar was coming home ‘cause I had something for her, and he said dropped her off at her friend’s house already. Then he got this look on his face and said, super seriously, that he wouldn’t mind if she liked a guy like me. I said what, he said what, and then elaborated that he noticed how much I fuss over her and stuff, and that if I liked her more than I let on that he’d be cool with it. Said I’d— He knew I’d treat her well.”

“Cool with it,” Jeno echoes distantly. “Cool with… you. Dating Y/N.”

“I turned him down,” Jaemin tells him for some reason. “Just laughed it off, because I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Why?”

He blinks like this is the last question he was expecting Jeno to ask. “Why?”

“Obviously, you—” The words almost don’t want to come out. “You’re clearly attracted to her. I don’t see why you wouldn’t take that as a greenlight to really pursue it.”

“You’re asking me why I didn’t ask her out?”

“Yes?”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t do anything about it because of you. So you could then kill me in my sleep?”

“I wouldn’t have felt anyhow about it,” Jeno lies. “If Mark gave you his blessing then that— That has nothing to do with—”

“Yes it does, man! I only brought it up because it’s proof that Mark doesn’t just shoot blindly when it comes to who his little sister likes, and if you don’t have to worry about that, you can stop lying to yourself about what you really want. You have a chance.”

“I had a chance,” Jeno blurts before he can swallow it, truth sharp and instantly sobering. “Before the lake house. Maybe even before what I said on Saturday. But—” He remembers the look on your face on the balcony. The clear, deep hurt. Then he remembers how you looked at him an hour ago. Or how you didn’t look at him, more realistically— Casual, unbothered, composed.

Unlike him, you’ve already reached some semblance of acceptance.

“But this time I think I really messed up.”

The lights of the restaurant are too bright in his periphery. The silence is too quiet, and the air in the car is too suffocating. Again he’s grabbed by the urge to go home, and before Jaemin can say another word Jeno glances at the finally empty fast food box in his lap.

This time when the engine revs and Jeno wordlessly kicks the car into drive, Jaemin says nothing. 

You owe it to her to tell her the truth, you know.

Jaemin lives in an apartment with his older brother, a few short blocks from Jeno’s own place. The ride had been mostly silent, neither of them really feeling the need to speak in lieu of the rather tense exchange they’d left behind— the first thing Jaemin said since they left the parking lot was when he was pulling in front of the building, and it was for Jeno to cut down on the moping if he didn’t want to have wrinkles by twenty-five. 

Before Jeno could roll his eyes and tell him to get out, Jaemin opened the door and stepped out himself; but not without doing what he does best. Lecturing.

She’s miserable. You’re miserable. I know you know that much.

Jeno only sighed.

All because of one big miscommunication. I know you, and I like to think that after half a decade of being in her house I’d know Y/N pretty well too, and you’re both never going to be able to look at each other again without this hanging over your heads if you don’t sort it out. If you’re so sure that this is the end, then you have nothing to lose by telling her the truth about everything. Everything. How you feel now, and how you felt then. And if there’s any part of you that believes this can be saved, then you need to try as hard as you can to make sure it happens. And it starts with you manning up and telling her feelings weren’t nearly as unrequited as she thinks.

And Jeno wasn’t quite in the mood to tell him he was right, so he didn’t. Instead he squinted at Jaemin, and asked the question that’s been prickling in his mind since they pulled out of the fast food place. 

“What Mark said about giving you his blessing,” he started, “You said you turned it down for me.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Because regardless of how obtuse you are, I know what I saw. You liked her. A lot. I wasn’t getting in the way of that.”

A beat. 

“And If I wasn’t there to get in the way?”

It’s a clear inquiry to Jeno, cut and dry, but Jaemin laughs like he’s just been asked a trick question. With his eyes narrowed and a cavalier smile in his expression, Jaemin stared at him as if he was thinking ‘Do you actually want to know the answer to that?’ and in that moment without a single word spoken, Jeno saw it all. There was a world quite similar to this one where they weren’t having this conversation, or talking so casually about you, or sharing advice. A world where Jaemin was a more opportunistic person who didn’t care that Jeno had liked you first; A world where they weren’t friends, but rivals.

If you weren’t in the way then she would be mine.

“I don’t think asking things like that is going to help you get the girl.”

“I would still appreciate the clarification,” Jeno said, just as vague.

“Mmm. I bet. Well, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin tapped the roof of the car twice, the whole car echoing with the force of it despite how casually he spoke, “My answer to that question is going to make you do everything but appreciate me, so how about we call a draw here, huh? Before we open that can of worms and everyone gets all… thinky.”

And they both knew that by not answering Jaemin had actually replied loud and clear. But once he heeded his words— really sat there and thought about it, what good it would do for anyone if Jeno knew how Jaemin really felt about you, he found himself agreeing. 

Maybe ignorance is bliss. 

“You smell like french fries,” Jeno called offhandedly, as Jaemin retreated closer and closer to the revolving doors of his building. He turns right as Jeno steps out of the driver's seat, just in time to catch the tiny cologne he keeps in the console for emergencies. “No chance Jaehyun won’t clock you.”

Jaemin cooed. “So thoughtful you are, No-Jam! If you weren’t so buff and scary, Y/N-ie might’ve had competition.”

And for the first time all night, maybe even all week, Jeno felt a genuine laugh.

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster! plus, yay, new chapter after a literal entire year, LOL

[MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

[jeanbie]

WORDLESS #5 ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: sugar daddy & contract killer au | warnings: implied violence, establishing feelings, mentions/references to john wick & the continental | wc: 6.8k

note: who expected me to actually finish this? (answer: no one) i'm so glad that i got to finish "wordless" and put these two losers in a place they deserve to be in! this chapter is the finale and also almost entirely from levi's pov, and this one flows in a chronological order :)

★ ch1. ch2. ch3. ch4. ch5

⏤ Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Levi over the edge if he hears them again. But maybe he's ready now.

(41) Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

It’s been a hot second since Levi saw you — and it’s killing him more than he’d care to admit.

Since the blow up in the shower over girls he wasn’t fucking in the first place, Levi hasn’t heard from you, and he hasn’t made much of an effort to reach out either.

Why did he even lie? There was no benefit from telling you he was seeing other girls; the only reason he said that so often was to manage the healthy boundaries between you, to remind you not to get too close, to remind himself that being with you is a risk.

Not that pushing you away has made his life any easier. On the contrary, he thinks it’s made everything worse.

It is almost dehumanising to admit it to himself, but he misses you. Since your rather unconventional first meet — which was a far cry from any ‘meet cute’ that normal situationships had — Levi has been telling himself that the circumstances surrounding you being in his life were unique at best, and that you weren’t permanent.

But now, he lives his life around a ghost of your body, making room for you in his home, making time out of his schedule, making arrangements to keep you happy. 

Okay. Maybe it’s a little bit too late to acknowledge the feelings he has for you. Levi knows they’re there — he’s not an idiot. But making those feelings real is something he just can’t afford to do. Not yet. Not while there’s too much going on in his life.

Still, he stares longingly at the door every night when he staggers back home, as if hoping you might take him by surprise and crawl back into his arms. Not that you do, at least not for a while; not until Levi grows fed up of waiting and finds you first.

But for now, he’ll grant you he space that you need, the space you deserve. And in the meantime, he’ll try and make peace with the waging war in his head.

(42) Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

“This is nice.”

The neighbourhood Levi now lives in is much smaller than the last one. It pales in comparison to the condo it took forever to finally move out of, but having consistent security breaches just for a tiring view of the river didn’t feel worth it for Levi anymore. It made no difference to him if the apartment he all but owns for you is much farther away — you’re barely ever there, anyway.

Since putting his angst to rest, and since making it known to you that you’re quite literally the only woman he likes enough to keep buying houses for and invite over, things have been calm between you.

There’s still a strange unspoken thing, the remains of an agreement made out of convenience so long ago, to feed both the lust and pride Levi wanted and the safety you craved; but in general, Levi acknowledges that what he has with you right now feels like the closest thing he’s had to a partner in a long, long time.

Levi looks over at you, feeling your hand tighten in his as you cross a cute little park covered in flowery bushes and beds of tulips. 

“I’m glad my neighbourhood has your stamp of approval,” he replies, tightening his fingers around yours before pulling up slightly to stuff your joined hands into his pocket. Though it’s spring now, there’s still a bite in the air, a chill that Levi is determined to shelter you from.

“Technically,” you start, and Levi can predict, like a robot, what you’ll say next, and mouths the words as they fall from your lips, “it’s mine, too.” Your eyes turn piercing as you scowl at him, “Hey! Don’t…predictive text me.”

“Then stop being so predictable.”

“I think we spend too much time together,” you mutter, looking back at the flowerbed you’re currently passing by.

Levi scoffs to himself and playfully scratches a nail against the hand lodged in his pocket.

“Then go away,” he says. No chance, is what runs through his head, and the coy smile you flash him is as equally predictable as the word he knows you’ll say next, starting with n and ending in o.

(43) Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

Ever since Levi figured out how to share locations, he’s become obsessed with watching you move around on the map on his phone. Numerous times, he’s slipped up on spending hours watching your little circle move, sometimes not even moving at all.

If you had any complaints, he hasn’t heard them, though he very much doubts that you’ll complain in the future now that his stalking has worked out in your favour.

You might have initially thought that bumping into Levi outside the supermarket was a rather delightful coincidence — that was until he moved across the city, and has no real business in your area unless it concerns you.

“Perfect timing,” you say once you see him crossing the small car park in your direction. He has half a mind to pretend he hasn’t seen you and keep walking, but watching you struggle with your shopping is painful enough.

He grunts, reaching for the bag that is squeezing the blood from your fingers. “Don’t get proud about it.”

Sniggering, you happily let Levi grab the overweight bags and fall into an even step beside him. 

“Why do you have so much stuff?” Levi huffs. To be fair, the bags aren’t that heavy, but he can’t see any reason for you to have bought so much considering you live at his house more often than you do your own. “You gonna share this shit?”

“If you want,” you reply. “You paid for it.”

His tongue clicks. Levi hasn’t paid you a penny since he last felt guilty about the fact he rarely paid you, despite that being the very foundation of your relationship in the first place, but even with what he paid you and hasn’t since that point, he knows your bank account is more than comfortable. Paying for all of this has barely made a dent, but that’s what the money’s there for.

He makes his way to his car pulled up outside the car park turning in a layby and struggles in his pocket for his keys.

“I live five minutes away,” you remind him, steps slowing. 

“No, you just said you’d share it, so we're going to mine.”

With a sigh, you’re left with no other choice but to follow him to his car. “You know, the romance of you carrying my bags is lost now you’ve only walked it to the car.”

Before he pops open the boot of the car, he turns to you and sneers, “You want me to walk back and let you do it yourself?”

There’s no argument to be had. You get into the car.

(44) Standing between them and a busy road.

Habits. Levi hates to keep track of how many he’s developed since you entered his life almost two years ago. Time has gone by so quickly since the day he first met you, in the worst way possible, but since then, he’s transformed into a whole new person, a whole new paranoid man who overthinks everything because there’s no other option.

His habits as of late include worrying about you whenever you’re not around — whenever he’s at work, he’ll think of you. Whenever he’s in a different city or country, Levi will obsessively worry over what you might be doing, who might be on your trail, scenting your every move while you’re vulnerable. Another habit includes feeling like an overbearing parent even when he’s in the same five mile radius, but at least he’s self aware of it.

If you’ve noticed Levi becoming more clingy, less like who he swore he’d never change from, you haven’t mentioned it yet. Perhaps a small mercy to save him the mortifying task of admitting that he has feelings stored away for you. 

Today, Levi has fallen victim to his habits of worry and has walked himself all the way to your university just to walk you all the way back home. His home, not yours. In a sense, your home, too. In an unspoken way.

Levi stands waiting for you in the overhang, gaze trained on the thick grey sky until he hears your class file out of the building in a chatter. Sasha is who he sees first, followed by another one of your friends he’s never met but has seen on Instagram once or twice, and then he sees you, looking thankfully in good spirits, and all too beautiful for your own good.

When you see him standing with his hands in his pockets, he allows himself the pleasure of pride when you break away from your friends just to join him, the smile on your face so genuine and radiant that he has to scoff in amusement.

“Hey, you,” you call, falling into his arms. 

“Hey, yourself.”

“I didn’t know you were coming today,” you confess, pulling away to stare curiously at his withdrawn expression. Levi is already twisting an arm around your waist to walk you down the step and across the lawn. “I told Sasha I’d go to her café and wait for her shift to end. Didn’t you have that thing today?”

“What thing?” he mutters.

“The thing with Erwin. And some deadbeat called George, or something.”

“How many Korean men do you know named George?” Levi deadpans, though his arm does tighten around you in caution. “You shouldn’t even know about that. How do you even know?”

The busy road widens into view as you leave the closed campus. Levi’s pretty much counting the days before you graduate and never have to come here again, and the time is passing strangely slow in that department. It feels like it’s been ages since you enrolled, and he wants nothing more than for you to leave and become the greatest journalist in the world — or whatever it is you even want to do when you’re done. 

As you walk, you lean into Levi’s side, furthering the distance between yourself and the road bustling with cars and buses. He frowns.

One of your habits since the accident on the bridge with your family had been to avoid busy roads, as if convinced something might happen again. You’ve told him numerous times that it’s irrational, but Levi doesn’t think so. It’s a very normal thing to feel afraid of everything, even when those things are a little on the unrealistic side.

Naturally, it results in Levi sliding his arm from around your waist and replacing it with his other one, positioning himself between you and the chaotic lines of commuting cars going home.

His heart flips when you smile at him for it, linking your arm around his while moving your waist out of his grip. Levi tries not to let it get to his head how much you trust him, how much he cares for you. But by the minute, he’s losing the will to keep it hidden.

(45) Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

Back to habits, there are some that Levi has that he’s not particularly as proud of. But, as expected, you’re as good as it gets, and any habit he thinks he might have gotten away with hiding, somehow you pick up on it.

Levi flicks through a blueprint laying flat over his kitchen table, his hands nervously drumming the edge of the tabletop as he tries to memorise the elaborate labyrinth of a building he’ll be breaking into later to find his next hit. Usually, Levi has you at his home before and just after taking a job, just to eliminate the threat of you being hurt as a punishment. 

He wishes that the company gave you unrestricted entry and protection without him being there to clear it, but in order for that privilege, Levi needed to address you as his partner, which just felt like an even larger target on your head. So, he settles for his home, though the worry does not cease.

This building is riddled with passageways and vaults, basement levels with so many access points that studying them feels intense. One wrong recollection could come at the cost of his life, and at the minute, his life has increased in value. Things are finally going right for him, it would be a shame to have it all taken away from him again.

A text from Erwin sounds next to him, and Levi all but glances at the screen to see what’s happening. All assistance available should he need it — he almost sighs with relief at the words.

In the past, Levi had thought he could never work in cohorts with other hitmen, but becoming partners with Erwin and his henchmen has been working in his favour. 

Still, it doesn’t hurt to learn the layout off by heart. So, Levi pours himself over the blueprints and maps, memorising every detail, becoming so engrossed in it that he barely even hears you letting yourself inside of his apartment.

Your shoes hit the wall with a noise that makes him suddenly aware of your arrival, and he glances up to see you peeking into the kitchen, eyes scanning the room for any unfortunate signs of Elio before you approach him.

He notices the street market bag and inhales the smell of spice before looking back at the maps. “Hope you’re gonna share that.”

“Of course,” you reply, offended he even thought you might not. You place the container of tteokbokki on the table before sliding around to his side, eyes glued to the rolls of paper. “Where’s this?”

“Less you know, the better,” he mutters, leaning his head into your mouth as you kiss his jaw. 

For a while, you say nothing, letting Levi memorise what he needs to while you assess the prints for yourself. Eventually, you shift your hand over his and squeeze, making him glance at you sideways. 

You’re looking at him already, though you can’t see his eyes from the way he’s hunched over. Spotting Levi’s signs of anxiety must be incredibly easy, because somehow you’ve caught on, and begin to rub the back of his hand with your thumb, nose pressed into his bicep. 

“Come eat,” you suggest quietly, after a while of basking in the silence with him.

He grunts, a typical Levi sound, and nudges you away. Though, you only shuffle to the drawer to fetch two forks — forks! He scoffs, rolling his shoulders as he rounds the table to take one from your fingers. 

“Easier to stab with a fork,” you offer as an explanation.

“If my mother was here to see me eating tteokbokki with a fork, she’d lose her goddamn mind.”

“Well…” You start, trailing off after a moment. You’ve got nothing to say; he’s won the argument just by bringing Kuchel up, and both of you know it.

Scowling, you stab another wedge of tteok and chew it furiously, meanwhile Levi smirks to himself, victorious.

(46) Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

“I need to retire. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“No way. How old are you now, like, twenty eight?”

“…I’m thirty.”

“Best looking thirty year old I’ve ever seen. Roll over, I’ll massage your back, if you want?”

If he ever refuses a massage from you, he’s an idiot.

Levi rolls over ungraciously, hitting the mattress on his stomach with a low groan. He rolls his shoulders, the bones cracking comically loud, and as you shuffle up to straddle his back, he groans again.

“Oh fuck off, I’m not heavy.”

Levi sniggers into the pillow, though as soon as your hands start to work their magic, he moans, the pleasure instantaneous. 

“Make a house back there, if you want. Just don’t stop.”

(47) Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

“I can’t do it if you’re not here, Levi. You need to get over here.”

“Do you not see that I’m trying?”

“You’re terrible at this game.”

Levi scoffs. He wouldn’t be so terrible if he actually knew how to play properly. His character begins to run in circles without him even asking him to, and Levi growls angrily.

“Fucks sake, this bitch is pissing me off.” Then, he wrangles the controller from your hands as you protest and says, “You be him instead.”

“But I don’t want to be Cody.”

“Me neither.”

As soon as you start moving little Cody around, Levi peers in scrutiny at the controller in your hand and how it so suddenly has stopped drifting on its own. There’s a circular dent in your inner cheek where your tongue is, and Levi scowls in your direction.

“You were sabotaging me,” he accuses, eyes focused back on May as she stumbles around uncoordinatedly.

“I think you’re just really bad,” you reply. Cody is moving fine, and finally, the mechanism moves and the story can progress. Hm.

Levi’s eyes bore into yours as you shift to face him, elbows snug in the blanket bundled around you both. Levi has been laying low for around two weeks now — he’s surprised with just how much he likes not having to work. Though, there have been a few times whilst playing this infuriating game where Levi has wished to be anywhere else. 

“You’re good at a lot of things,” you tell him sincerely, “but just not games. And that’s okay. You tried.”

“I’m good at games,” he replies, offended.

You raise your eyebrows, “Like what?”

“Your animal living game.”

“Animal Crossing?”

“Sure, that too.”

All Levi has ever done on Animal Crossing is make a character and proceed to hit everybody with his fishing net, not to mention dig holes around your front door so you can’t get out. Still, you say nothing — the look of disbelief speaks volumes to Levi and he rolls his eyes, turning back to May as she wanders off to the side of the screen and falls off.

Okay. He’s bad at games. That he’ll admit. But you like it, and by the time he’s gotten the hang of the controls, it’s already four in the morning.

(48) Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

Remember those habits?

“You remembered!”

If not just to see your smile, Levi likes to bring you one of the expensive bags of coffee from Erwin’s studio. You could quite easily buy the bags yourself, but there’s no thrill in ordering something and having it arrive in due time, not like there is in making Levi steal three at a time as he leaves a meeting or training session.

Levi sets the bags with a loud thud by the coffee machine and hums. 

“And you got me a drink!”

Yes. He has also become a barista and familiarised himself with the exact way you like to drink your coffee. The takeout cup he also borrowed from Erwin is placed down by your laptop as you relentlessly type away at an assignment at Levi’s kitchen table, and he presses a kiss to your temple and mutters under his breath.

“Thanks, babe,” you say, already sipping at the steamy contents.

“It’s hot,” he points out. “You’ll only cry when you singe all your taste-buds off.”

“I will not—” You slurp, then hiss, “Ow!”

“I warned you.”

(49) Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

You know what? No. Levi has given up on pretending like he doesn’t enjoy you being in his grill all day, every day, which is the reasoning for why he ends up in an expensive jewellery store with Erwin one day after a long haul of inspecting an upcoming raid location.

In all honesty, Levi wants to put his work to rest once the raid is all over. It will be their riskiest ploy to date, and quite frankly, Levi’s tired. He’s been killing people for years, cutting at the humanity he has left, and back in the day he would have been very comfortable with being a monster, killing until he was killed.

But now he had you. Now, Levi had someone to care about, so deeply and so passionately that it often left him feeling sick.

“That’s called love, Levi,” is what Erwin had said when Levi chose the rare option of opening up when he tried to explain why he wanted to retire early. 

“Love,” he scoffed. But then Erwin had said something profoundly wholesome, leaving Levi with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You’re not unloveable just because you loved nothing for so long. I know it took you awhile to get back to where you are now, but just because love went wrong once before doesn’t mean it has to again. Besides, almost two years of your bullshit and that woman is still there — I don’t think you need to be worried about her pulling away from you once you tell her how you feel.”

Which roughly translated to: Buy her something nice and quash until you can’t any longer.

Once Levi gets home, he hears you giggling at something and finds you with a book over your face, your legs kicking as you squeal like a goblin. His face twists and he asks, “That book got jokes in it, or something?”

You peer around the spine and look at him. “They kissed. They. Kissed!”

“Who kissed?” Levi makes his way to the couch and takes a seat where you were just lying down. The cushions are warm — you’ve been here a while, and the thought makes him smile. 

“Evangeline and Jacks. It’s all so perfect. I didn't like most of the book, but what matters is that they kissed,” you tell him, a little too excited. You plant your feet in Levi’s lap. “I love love, Levi. It is the greatest. I love books. Men written by women!”

“Why are you giggling over other men in my own house?” 

“I giggle over you when you’re not around, too.”

He hums once from the back of his throat, watching as you mark the page with your bookmark and close the book before crawling into his lap and curling into his arms. He welcomes you instinctively, the blocky shape of the ring he bought in his pocket.

After smooching your lips for a long fifteen minutes, Levi pulls away and reaches for the box. “Got something for you.”

“Ooh, show me!”

He produces the little box and hands it to you, but when your eyes round and you hesitate in taking it, he worries.

“I’m not proposing,” he says quickly.

“Thank god. I was about to be very upset,” you sigh dramatically, finally taking the ring box. “Most unromantic proposal ever.”

“The fact you think I’d be that lousy with a proposal is actually really offensive.”

The genuine grumble in his voice puts a flutter in your stomach, though soon after, it simmers into a cool pit of shock when you flip open the box and see the most delicate, gorgeous ring that you’ve ever seen in your life, not counting ones you ogle in shopfronts.

Cautiously, you lift your head to peer at Levi’s expression. It’s not a proposal — he’s just told you so, and considering you’re not even his girlfriend in official terms yet, it seems unlikely that anything like that will be happening soon. But it has to be more than just an offhanded purchase, and you’re determined to figure out.

Levi’s eyes tremble as he looks between you and the ring. “Is it ugly?”

You immediately shake your head, “Of course not!”

“Put it on, then,” he urges. The steady beat of his heart stutters out of tempo. Suddenly, he feels quite nervous as he watches you take out the ring and study its appearance up close. “Need help?”

“Yeah, it’s so hard, I can’t figure out how to put it on. Needs instructions.”

Levi tuts and gently takes the ring from between your fingers, grabbing your ring finger whilst trying to look as casual as possible. Somehow, he manages to slide the ring on without making a fool of himself, but when he looks back at your face and sees gemstones of your own lining your waterline, he frowns.

“I’m not gonna sit here and give a speech,” he starts. By now, you know him better than that. He’s never opened up about his feelings to you, at least not without feeling regretful of it the morning after, and you nod simply, eyes catching the glint of the diamond. “But you know why I’ve bought it. I don’t need to tell you what you already know.”

And he doesn’t. Somehow, despite Levi being tremendously unromantic, having no manners, and in general being a terrible companion, you at least know that he cares. And with his upcoming job creeping up on you both, it doesn’t require an above-average intelligence to work out why this ring came when it did, what it means if things go south, what it means regardless.

“I know,” you tell him. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Instead of saying anything, Levi curls you tighter in his arms and presses a kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes when you snuggle your face into his collar and relax. 

His mind has been made, his plans set. As soon as the job is over, he doesn’t want to look back. Only forward, with the woman who has made him feel alive again.

(50) Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

It has been days since Levi told you he’d touched down in New York, working out some stuff in the very famous Continental until he was set to join Erwin on whatever mission they had planned and prepared for. Levi hadn’t told you the details this time because the risks were too high, and now, it feels like a major setback. 

New York is on fire, and Levi barely kept his life getting out of the Silver Sword compound. An entire mob wiped out by two guys with no backup — it was practically unprecedented, unseen or unheard of since John Wick was knocking around. 

The Continental had done everything right in the aftermath, including keeping Levi in their small infirmary for days whilst tending to his excessive wounds. Fuck, he had been so reckless, so vengeful, so stupid. It had almost cost him his life ensuring that no leads followed him and Erwin back to Seoul, and although he had succeeded in destroying every last bit of incriminating evidence, the risks had been too great. 

When Levi finally gets discharged from the infirmary, it is almost eleven in the evening, and New York has finally calmed down and settled in for the night. Erwin greets Levi in the lobby, a frown on his face, holding a destroyed black bundle of phone parts that bear a striking resemblance to Levi’s missing device. He swears.

Levi hasn’t heard from you since he got here. Since the last risky job he took in Gwangju last year, you’ve never been lax while he’s been away; he can almost imagine your fear, your paranoia, and before he can even hear Erwin’s well wishes, Levi’s crossing the lobby for the customer payphone and dialing in your number.

The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Baby?” Levi asks, after three attempts of saying your name and no coherent response. He cranes his head around the curly wire and glares at the clerk, though she looks less than pleased being interrupted by Levi, “Is this a global line?”

“Obviously, sir. It’s a telephone.”

“I fucking know it’s a telephone, but if it’s global, then why the hell isn’t it working?”

The girl gives him grief about his manners and Levi is forced to give up on calling you, slamming down the phone angrily and feeling his body growing hotter and hotter with worry.

He knows you're fine, in his house with the big cat you hate to love, but he knows you. He knows how you operate, how you worry, how you love him too much.

“Look, we’ll catch the first flight we can,” Erwin assures him as soon as Levi has caught his breath and taken a seat on one of the black leather sofas. His hands are shaking violently. “She’s fine. I promise.”

“I know she’s fine,” Levi grumbles.

“Then get a hold of yourself,” sighs Erwin, his frown low and face tired. “There’s nothing you can do but wait. I’ve got people waiting on me, as well, you know.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Dogs miss their owners just as much as girlfriends miss their boyfriends,” Erwin protests, because that’s all he has back home these days.

There had been a time where you had offered to set him up with your friend, Sasha, who deserved to be with a man who could handle her energy but also make her feel safe after her last terrible relationship, but Erwin is basically married to his work, and had got a dog despite Sasha being deathly allergic.

Still, Levi’s not heartless enough to know that Erwin isn’t missed by his dog, and probably other people in his life. And he’s right, there’s nothing he can do about the connection problems. All he can do is reign in his worries and wait.

The earliest flight they can find is the next morning, and Levi spends every second up to that point and up until he pulls up outside of his house in a complete state of panic. Would you be there? Did you leave, thinking he’d never come back? 

Levi abandons his bag and leaves it in the backseat as he sprints from the car up the stairs, past his front door, and into his house. He kicks off his shoes once he’s in, the door hitting the wall with a booming slam.

He hears what he thinks might be scuffles, potentially even Elio’s claws, and right as Levi calls out your name, he sees you round the corner with a blotchy red face and feels his arms stretching out for you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You slam into his chest, almost taking him to the floor, and encircle your arms around his neck so hard that the breath knocks out of his lungs. Still, he isn’t even annoyed; he squeezes you so tightly, tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone before, and shoves his face into your neck, inhaling the smell, feeling the way your body felt in memories while he was away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper, his features tugged in displeasure as you whimper into him, no doubt crying over his shirt. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I thought you were dead!” you blurt, “I even cried on Elio’s back because I thought you had died! What’s the point in having a phone if you never pick it up or charge it?” You snatch yourself from his arms and gently beat against his chest with your fist. “I’m so pissed off at you!”

“I’m sorry that my phone got crushed,” he says, affronted that you would even think he’d ignore your calls on purpose. “I was in a hospital bed for three days! And then the bitchy receptionist got smart with me about their shitty phone, and I called but the line cut out. Sounded like a goddamn robot, I couldn’t hear a word you were saying.”

Your jaw drops, “That was you? I thought you’d died and some enemy gang guy was trying to call me to kill me!” Levi has to laugh at the look of worry on your face. He hasn’t been cared for in this way in a long time. Never been loved to this volume. “I unplugged the landline, I was so scared! Jesus Christ, Levi!” Then, like you never left, you rush back into his arms and let out a shaky cry. 

“You did the right thing,” he tells you. Unplugging the landline was the silliest thing he could have ever thought of, but then he realises that you’re still here, and that you made peace with Elio just because you thought he had died.

Levi strokes the back of your head and shushes you, feeling your heartbeat hammering furiously against his chest. His is most likely the same, though he’s not so eager to acknowledge his own feelings.

After a while of standing there, and after Levi’s stroked behind Elio’s ears when he prowls towards them and rubs his head on Levi’s trousers, Levi looks back at you softly and takes everything in.

He has missed you more than anything, grieved the missing piece of his soul that is shaped like you. And, while he’s at it, yes! Fucking hell! He loves you!

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell him, and Levi kisses you, his hands cradling your face. The kiss is firm, desperate, though he has no intention of walking you backwards towards the bedroom like he normally does after a job.

Instead, he pulls you in for a hug again. 

“I missed you,” he mutters. “So fucking much.”

“Me too.”

He says with his mouth pressed into your head, “I’m done with this shit. I’m not taking any more jobs.”

You twist out of his arms, eyebrows raised. “Really? Why? You love your job.”

“I hate my job,” Levi confesses. “I have too much to lose. I just wanna live my life. And make it all count for something.”

For a moment, you stand there, looking at his face so intently that he almost feels uncomfortable. But then, as a smile spreads over your face, Levi feels like he can finally breathe again, finally feel like himself.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, babe, then let’s do that.”

And we can do it together.

(51) Getting adjusted.

Levi forgot what it was like to be normal.

He now wakes up at whatever time he wants to, feeling next to him for the lump in the bed where you sleep. Once he knows you’re still there (because despite being retired, he doesn’t think the habit of making sure you’re safe will ever go away), Levi wakes up and starts his day. 

Coffee for one becomes coffee for two. Levi never has to eat breakfast on his own, never sits alone on the sofa or sits in silence at the kitchen table. Levi has lost half of his sink counter space to your belongings, lost half of his wardrobe to your own clothes. There are so many shoes by his front door that it looks like a storefront. 

Elio has a mother, in a strange, estranged, visitation-hours-only kind of way. Levi has made room for you in his life and you fit perfectly, so perfectly that he barely remembers what it ever felt like to live alone.

The shower is always filled with two people. Levi finds your things all over the house in the most bizarre places. He has candles on every coffee table, pictures in frames, finds your cardigans hanging over every chair. But he loves it. He loves it so much. He can’t imagine ever not having it, having you, having this life.

(52) Finally saying the words.

“This is my first time using this thing.”

“What?” you gasp as Levi comes to sit next to you on the balcony.

Elio yawns inside, sleeping on the couch. It is partly his fault that Levi’s out here in the first place, though the thought of being tucked beside you on the outdoor couch in a blanket, watching the sun sink behind the skyline, is thankfully rather appealing, and he voices no complaints.

Levi takes a swig of his whiskey and abandons the cup on the table, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. It’s not exactly cold tonight, but he knows you too well, and knows that within an hour, you’ll be dithering next to him.

“Imagine having a balcony and never using it.”

“I’m using it now,” Levi huffs, pinching your neck. You squeal, “Fuck off, it didn’t hurt.”

You’ve been officially living in Levi’s home for two months now, although sometimes it feels like you’ve always been here. Still, despite you making yourself very much at home on the inside, neither of you have once come out to sit on the balcony, to bask in the lovely sun as it settles for the night, not until today. 

“When’s Erwin coming?”

“Bout an hour or so,” Levi says in a low drawl, his head tilted back and hand massaging the side of your head. It had been your idea to invite a bunch of people over to your house — the house you now shared — and frightfully, Levi hadn’t opposed. It would be nice to share the wealth of simply being alive with people he now had the patience to care about. 

You shuffle to look at him, and Levi picks up his head at the sound of you moving. Like always, Levi thinks you look beautiful, but since he’s made you his girlfriend, it has felt like every time he looks at you, he can’t breathe properly.

“I’m excited. This is our first time hosting a party together,” you grin, while Levi thumbs your ear and smiles. “Do you think Elio will eat Erwin’s dog?”

“No. Elio’s moved back onto a pescatarian diet, so I think Erwin’s mutt will be safe.”

“Good. I bought him a bone, do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’s a dog. Yes, I expect, why are you asking me this?” Levi asks, eyebrows scrunched, though he pulls you close to where his mouth is and kisses you straight on the lips. “Stop stressing.”

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous! It’s all so serious! What if nobody likes our house?”

He shrugs. “I don’t give a shit who does or doesn’t like our house. It’s ours.”

“Hnnngh. And I want you to have a good time!” you whine. “You deserve a bit of fun in your life.”

“My life is always fun now that you’re my girlfriend.”

He’s instantly won himself brownie points by saying that.

“Just tell me if it gets too much,” you mutter, lips on his, mouths together. “Okay?”

Levi hums. “Yeah.” Then, after he’s kissed you three more times and felt his heart shake, he nudges his nose against yours and says, “I love you, y’know that, right?”

You pause, eyes rounding wide as you take in the sight of him. Levi has never said those words before, not explicitly. But now is as good a time as any, right?

Levi has spent far too much of his life withdrawing from his emotions, hiding away from what matters most out of a fear of caring too much. In the past, he had cared too much and lost it all. You were never supposed to be something he cared about, but when it had happened, it happened so fast he hadn’t had the time to make sense of it all.

But now, now that he’s been through it all with you, ticked every box imaginable, become comfortable being vulnerable again, Levi thinks he’s finally ready to accept the love he deserves and dole it out to those who mean the most to him.

Your mouth moves against his, though he can’t understand the words coming out. He laughs, confused, and somehow manages to pull away and ask, “What’re you even saying?”

All for you to blubber out in a laugh, “I’ve been waiting for ages for you to say that!”

His heart bursts, chest soars. “You could have said it first.”

“I’ve said it before,” you protest, “in actions.”

He scoffs, “So have I.”

And he has, you really can’t deny it.

“Say it again, won’t you?” you ask sweetly, kissing the corner of his mouth, and Levi sighs, like asking that of him is simply too much.

“I love you. You make me very happy.” Levi groans when you cackle and squish the breath out of him with a hug, but this time, he sniggers too. Why waste the moment on pretending to be indifferent when he’s actually the happiest he’s ever been?

Levi Ackerman can finally say that he feels good. He feels safe, he feels content, he feels comfortable — and most of all, he feels loved. And in love. And totally at peace in the world with the person who makes him the happiest.

[abitohoney]

Bend and Break (Not Just the Rules)

Chapter 4 of 5 - Bend and Break

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Modern AU, College/University AU, Professor Sevika, Student Reader, Humor, Porn With Plot, Eventual Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, a lot of this is probably super cliché and a bit silly, but I don’t give two shits cause it’s fucking hot and funny, Drinking, Masturbation, Smoking, Teasing, Size Difference, Enthusiastic Consent, Dom Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Sub Reader, Light BDSM, Impact Play, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, (yes I like the emotional whiplash of both kinks), Vaginal Fingering, Strap-Ons, Orgasm Delay, Choking, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: When a hot professor in your field of study enters your radar, you’re quick to jump at the opportunity to get closer by taking her class. Temptations eventually lead the two of you to bend and break more than just the rules.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3. Trying to catch up here.

You were down to literally your last chance to get somewhere with Professor Sevika. You’d already been to your last class, taken the final exam, and now all you had left was one more evening with her as her assistant to help finish out the semester. You weren’t sure what exactly she’d be having you doing considering grades were due the prior evening, but that was the last thing on your mind. Instead, you were focused on making yourself as irresistible as possible.

Posed in front of a large floor length mirror, you turned and angled your body, making sure everything was well in place and perfect. You’d pulled out all the stops that night. Dressed to the nines in a tiny pleated miniskirt that exposed far more than it covered, an equally tiny but also very sheer top without any bra beneath, and finally your best pair of cheeky, lace underwear. And to top it all off, you sported a cute pair of flats (because why wear heels when part of your professor’s charm is that extra height she has over you), vanilla and lilac scented perfume, and went all out on your makeup and hair. You’d even gone so far as to use vanilla scented shampoo and soap that day.

Satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your gift for your professor- a bottle of vanilla flavored whiskey wrapped in dark red tissue and tied off with a pretty gold ribbon- and made a beeline for the door.

As per your tradition, you arrived early. And as per her tradition, Professor Sevika was leaning against the exterior of the building enjoying a smoke. Although, it seemed, as you got closer, that she was nearly finished.

“You’re early.”

Another tradition, but with a twist. Even in the dim light of a distant lamp, you spotted how her lips curled ever so slightly as she spoke those words.

Was she being playful?

You smiled up at her coyly, hands behind your back to hide her gift. “Just excited.”

She raised a single brow and removed her cigarillo to blow a stream of smoke skyward. “And why is that?”

“Well,” you started, eyes rolling around as if trying to come up with a reason, “I’ll be graduating soon and…”

“And?” she asked when you simply trailed off.

You rocked back and forth on the heels of your feet. “And this is my last night with my favorite professor.”

Her eyes met yours, and you tried to read her expression, challenged her with your own gaze to reply to that compliment. She didn’t supply a verbal response, but the little upward tug of her lips said it all.

Tonight was it. Your last chance to get something from her, and you weren’t leaving without at the very least a confession, but hopefully something a bit more.

A cool breeze blew between the two of you, sending goosebumps crawling over your exposed skin. You shivered, involuntarily, despite your effort to remain composed and keep your eyes locked on hers.

“Without a jacket again?” She asked with a shake of her head. She tossed the remains of her cigarillo to the ground, rubbing the toe of her polished black shoes against it and the dirt until only tiny, broken tendrils of smoke remained.

You could tell she wasn’t truly disappointed, not when that sexy little smirk still painted her face.

She shrugged her leather jacket off and draped it over your shoulders. She leaned down to bring her lips dangerously close to your ear. “I know you’re smarter than that, sweetheart.”

Shivers ran clear down your spine despite the warmth her jacket brought to your upper half. However, you found heat pooling elsewhere– low in your belly and between your thighs.

Fuck, she had the most sinfully husky voice. Arousing enough to make your legs ache. And good god she hovered beside your ear for far too long. Though it was only seconds, you could feel her warm breath fan across your exposed neck and threaten to bring you to your knees right there.

She was toying with you. Teasing you. You were certain of it.

Then you heard the faint sound of her taking a deep breath through her nose.

Was she... smelling you?

“Vanilla?” she rasped, and you could have sworn you felt her ghost the tip of her nose along the edge of your ear.

You slowly turned your head, craning your neck to peer up at her with a mixture of nervousness and longing. This close, you could see those stormy gray eyes through her glasses, and how they fell to your slightly parted lips, lingering for far too long to be coincidental. How they dilated when you gave her a meek nod. And you could smell her . Overwhelmingly so. So warm and smoky. Your own eyes fell to her lips, watching with unmistakable desire as they parted, the very tip of a pink tongue running along the bottom edges of her top teeth.

Suddenly you forgot how to breathe. Or swallow. Or stand.

Your knees gave way, but before you could even make it halfway to the ground, a strong, large arm caught you around your waist. And just like that, your confidence blew away like the cool breeze. You were held firmly against your professor’s warm, rigid body. Her soft breasts pressed against- or with the height difference more like sat atop- your own and all you could do was stare up at her, lost in a turbulent mix of feelings and sensations. One of your hands, without your realization, had released its grip on her gift and planted itself firmly atop her closest shoulder, and god you had to look like such a fool. A damsel in distress. Pathetic. Desperate. Needy .

You had come planning to win her over, but you weren’t prepared for this. Not here. Sure, you’d face-planted into her chest that one night and that was arguably far more… erotic than this, but you were drunk then, and she had not been quite so blatant in her teasing. And there had been no fucking smirk either.

God, her lips. Her dark, plush, sexy lips.

They were right there. Taunting you with that seductive grin. Just inches above your lips. If you could just– if your legs would cooperate– if you could get on your tiptoes and just close that distance-

“Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

Your eyes flew open. When had you even closed them? “Oh- okay. Yeah. S-Sorry,” you stammered and reluctantly removed your hand from her shoulder, your cheeks hot with embarrassment and desire.

She carefully slipped her arm off your waist, her fingertips brushing along the thin band of skin exposed between your bunched-up shirt and the waistband of your skirt.

That tiny stretch of skin felt like it had been touched by fire, every nerve alight along the path she’d taken. Your eyes widened again and you tried to read her expression, trying to determine if that was accidental or intentional, but she had already turned away and was making her way toward the entrance.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you quickly raced after her, falling in step just behind her.

She held the door open for you, another tradition that had developed on the nights you came to assist her. Despite her having done it for months, you still swooned just as hard at the gesture. You’d never once caught her doing that for another student, or anyone else for that matter. Only you.

“Thank y-” Your words fell short when you felt her hand rest on the small of your back, gently guiding you through the doorway. Mind a whirlwind at that simple touch, you slowed your pace and let her walk ahead, noticing how she ever so lightly let her fingertips glide along the side of your waist as she passed. Wide-eyed, you tried to catch her expression, and though she moved too fast for you to really get a good look, you were certain you spotted her lips curl into a tiny smirk.

Fuck .

You weren’t even sure how you made it to the classroom. You could have sworn you simply floated there, following behind your professor like some sort of dazed drug addict looking for another hit. Arguably, that was exactly the case. You felt high as a kite on adrenaline and desire- fueled by all her subtle yet wildly exhilarating touches, advances, looks, and closeness you’d already received in the short period of time that night.

A soft click from behind you finally caught your attention.

Did she just lock the door? She doesn’t usually do that. Why did she do that?!

You didn’t dare look behind you to confirm though, nerves suddenly flaring up at the possible implications of that action. Instead, you silently followed Professor Sevika to her desk, trying to school your expression into anything but the anxiety and anticipation you felt welling up inside you.

She took a seat at her desk and pulled out her laptop from her bag while you awkwardly stood at the side of the desk, awaiting her instructions.

“I don’t have any of the usual for you tonight as all the grades are already entered, but you can start by cleaning the whiteboard.”

That was not at all what you expected. Your disappointment was short-lived though, because when you glanced back at the whiteboard you spotted a small stepstool, a clever idea coming to mind. Barely keeping your impish smile in check, you set her gift- which you amazingly hadn’t dropped during any of those exhilarating moments- down on her desk.

Her gray eyes peered over the rim of her glasses at the wrapped bottle, then back up to you with a raised brow.

“A little thank you gift,” you explained, “For a wonderful semester, and for letting me be your assistant.”

Her gaze dropped to the gift again. She hesitated briefly, then pulled it closer.

“You know you don’t owe me anything,” she said quietly, but you saw the little pull of her lips as she united the gold ribbon and pulled back the red paper to reveal the bottle. She picked it up, turning it as she examined the label.

You rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in anticipation, hands clasped behind your back and a dopey, hopeful grin on your face.

God, please tell me she likes it!

You’d certainly spent a good amount on it. Wanted only the best for your favorite teacher.

“This is… very nice,” she finally said, smirking as she regarded you. “Seems you know my tastes quite well.”

You weren’t sure if it was just in your head, but you were pretty certain there were other implications behind that last statement.

“Might be enough to get you through the first quarter of next semester” you joked.

She chuckled, a low, throaty sort of laugh that made the tiny hairs covering your body stand on end. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she finally turned to grab something from her briefcase. She pulled out her thermos and poured a small amount of the whiskey into both the thermos and its cap. Handing you the cap, she grinned up at you.

“A toast?” you asked, offering her your own crooked grin.

She nodded and you brought your drink to hers.

“To my favorite teacher.”

“To my favorite student.”

Your cheeks grew hot at the compliment, and you hoped she wouldn’t notice it as you threw your drink back in one go. It burned just like the whiskey she let you try before, but this one was much smoother, and the vanilla more prevalent. Obviously you’d done good. And the delightful little smirk Professor Sevika gave you once she finished her own only drove that point further home.

“Cleaning supplies are on the table over there,” she said with a nod toward said table before turning her attention to her laptop.

Perfect .

To make sure your next plan of attack proceeded at maximum potential, you slipped off your professor’s jacket and draped it across the back of her chair. Couldn’t have the lovely outfit you’d picked out just for her covered by that big- albeit delightful smelling- jacket of hers.

“Thank you, again, for letting me borrow that.”

“Mhm.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You made quick work of cleaning the whiteboard, occasionally glancing back at your professor to see if she was sneaking any glances at you. She wasn’t. Not yet at least. But she would.

While still up on the step stool, you called out to her, “How’s it look?” Just as her head started to turn in your direction, you bent over to set the cleaning supplies back on the table beside you. You kept your eyes on her though, smiling with feigned innocence. You damn near vibrated in place with how ecstatic you were when she peered at you from over the rim of her glasses.

And oh how that damn sexy crooked grin of hers grew as her eyes trailed up your very exposed legs and bottom.

She pushed her chair back away from the desk and swiveled to fully face you. She never once looked at the whiteboard. Just kept her eyes on yours as she replied, "Good. Very good."

Then, she did something you were not expecting. She locked eyes with you, lips curled into the most devious grin, slid her hand over the ruler at the edge of her desk and used it to push a pen off the front corner.

Never in your life had a pen hitting the floor sounded so loud in your ears. It downright echoed in your head as you stared at her wide-eyed, realization of what she was doing, what she was going to have you do, making your heart fall into the pit of your stomach.

“Oops. Mind getting that for me, sweetheart ?”

Oh boy. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

You’d done it. Finally pushed her over the edge, just like she’d done with that damn pen. But what was waiting over that edge for you, you weren’t certain. However, you were sure it would be something she’d been itching to do for a long time if that evil- albeit undeniably sexy- little smile of hers was anything to go by.

So you carefully stepped off the stool and made your way toward her desk. Neither of you broke eye contact until you were standing just inches in front of her. Ever-so-slowly you turned so your back was to her, and bent over to pick up the fallen pen. You knew you were revealing far more than you should be to your professor, but you also knew that was exactly what she wanted you to do, and what you wanted to do. But what would she do next? Simply look and enjoy the view? Would she say something? Would she... touch you?

You no more than laid your fingers on the fallen pen when you felt something touch the inside of a thigh, just above your knee. You froze, fingers barely keeping you steady from where they pressed against the floor, as you felt that something start to ever so slowly drag up the inside of your leg. That something was cool like metal, and sharp.

The ruler.

Your heart rate spiked as it crept higher and higher. Every muscle in your body tensed, the anticipation of how far she would go sending you near panic.

This was what you wanted. Her attention. Her touch- granted it wasn’t her direct touch. Yet, in all honesty, you never thought you’d get that far.

Goosebumps followed the trail of the ruler despite your body temperature skyrocketing. And then, just before reaching the apex of your thighs, it stopped. You released the breath you hadn't even known you were holding in a pathetic whimper, only to suck it back in a gasp when you felt the ruler start to lift your skirt.

You heard your professor adjust in her seat behind you, and dear god she made the most wonderful sound. A low sort of hum- of appreciation.

“You wear these for me, or that foolish boy you’ve been so blatantly flirting with the last half of the semester?”

What?

Your head was in such a tizzy you had no clue what she was talking about.

“I asked you a question!” she snarled.

Oh lord!

Think!

'You wear these for me…?'

Oh!

“F-For you,” you stammered.

“Hmm. Very pretty.”

Fuck.

That praise. That sweet, lovely praise. And she said it in such a sultry tone that just made her already absurdly sexy voice that much sexier.

“I- I’ve done all- all this for you,” you admitted, cheeks burning uncomfortably hot. “All my outfits, hair, makeup- all for you, Professor.”

“Then why flirt with the boy?”

You said nothing, no desire to admit to your foolish attempts to make her jealous. She knew anyway. She had to. And you were pretty certain she knew what you’d been up to all along. Just wouldn’t come out and say anything until now.

“Answer me,” she growled.

“I- I just wanted your attention!” you nearly screamed. Your other hand flew to cover your mouth. There likely wasn’t anyone in the building this late, especially after classes ended, besides maybe the janitorial staff, but you didn’t want to risk it. Especially not with your current… predicament . Would be a little hard to explain why you were bent over in front of your professor wearing an entirely too skimpy outfit while she all but gaped at your exposed bottom.

You felt the ruler suddenly slip away, your skirt falling back in place to cover what little it could in your position. You waited, several agonizing seconds of silence, for her to say something. You could feel the tiny beads of sweat forming along your forehead near the hairline.

“Stand up.”

You nearly jumped at the command, but obediently stood, the fallen pen still lying long forgotten on the floor.

“Turn.”

Slowly, you did, until you found yourself toe-to-toe with your now standing professor. She absolutely towered over you, and you didn’t need to look up to know those stormy gray eyes were burning a hole in your skull.

“So, you admit it?” she sneered.

You chanced a glance up at her, craning your neck to see her face. She didn’t look angry. Quite the contrary. She looked utterly delighted, a sinister smile painting her face. “Ad-Admit what?”

She stalked around you, a predator circling its prey, and you turned with her, terrified eyes never leaving hers.

“You’ve been trying to get me to bend and break the rules all semester,” she sneered. Then she stepped closer, crowding you and forcing you to take a tentative step back.

Your mouth went dry, throat suddenly blocked by an invisible barrier.

“Tempting me with your pretty little outfits. Showing off all that delicious skin. Wearing my favorite scent. Even went so far as to put on that ridiculous show and attempt to make me jealous. Did it all knowing damn well I couldn’t act on any of it. Not with a student.” she continued, forcing you back further until your lower back hit her desk.

Oh fuck.

She leaned closer to you, dangerously close, chest damn near touching yours, and planted her palms against the desk, effectively pinning you in place. “ Didn’t you ?”

You leaned back, trying to keep your eyes level with hers. Voice trembling, you stammered out a quiet reply, “Y-Yes… But I- I just wanted to-”

“Bend over!”

“What?”

“Bend. Over.”

The way she emphasized those words made it clear she wouldn’t accept any more dawdling, yet you hesitated, peered over your shoulder at the desk behind you then back up at her. She simply raised a brow, challenging you to disobey. Like hell you ever would, so you carefully turned, still caged between two muscular arms, and bent over the desk. You rested on your forearms and stared ahead, legs trembling in anticipation.

Her hands disappeared from your sides, and she flipped your sorry excuse for a skirt up over your back, fully revealing your equally sorry excuse for panties. Then you felt the flat of the ruler press against one of your exposed asscheeks.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

She leaned over you, her large, firm body pressing along the back of your smaller one, soft breasts pressing so teasingly against your upper back. The tiny, flimsy shirt and skirt you wore did nothing to protect you from the warmth of her skin pressed against you, and your mind went completely blank. All you could do was focus on all the points of contact, including her lips brushing along your ear.

She pulled the ruler back and whispered, voice husky and dripping with the promise of sin, “The only thing I’m going to bend and break is you.”

CH5 >>

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 9: Weekend Retreat

WC: 4939 | R: Explicit | CH: 9/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8

*EDDIE*

“Fuck!” 

Eddie shouted long and loud, the sound echoing inside the hollow interior of the van as he pounded his fist against the steering wheel over and over until his hand went numb. The lines on the road in front of him blurred as he flew down the highway with tears swimming in his eyes. 

The thing was, he’d known from the second he walked away from Steve that he was making a mistake. The entire time, as he flew up to their room, packed an overnight bag, and went back down to take off, he knew he was doing the wrong thing—but he hadn’t been able to stop. 

He was running away like he always did. At the first sign of trouble he’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion and used it as an excuse to bolt.

Not that he didn’t have a reason to be upset. They’d lied to him. 

Even Steve. 

His Steve, who knew how Eddie felt about that kind of thing, who knew how hard it was for him to trust—had lied to his face! 

And sure, he’d had a flimsy justification locked and loaded for why he’d done it, if his story of only just finding out about the room situation were to be believed.

Eddie was heartbroken. He felt tricked, cheated, and betrayed—and honestly? 

He was angry. 

Never in his life had he been as happy as he was these last few weeks. He was staying in a beautiful place where he was able to see his best friend as often as he wanted, had a job he enjoyed with a boss he actually liked, and after a lifetime of keeping his heart on ice he’d finally found someone worth thawing it out for.

Or so he’d thought.

He should have seen this coming, it had felt a little too good to be true, but it’d been easy to push those worries aside and just enjoy being with Steve. 

It wasn’t just the steady diet of sex that had lulled him into a false sense of security either, though their chemistry in the bedroom was undeniable—their insatiable desire for each other unlike anything he’d ever known before. It was all the rest of it too that had infected him with so much hope. 

Steve actually cared about him, as a person. He listened, no matter what crazy shit came out of Eddie’s mouth. Even the hard things, the stuff Eddie never thought he’d share with another human being, apart from Chrissy or his Uncle. He told Steve everything, gave himself freely, openly, and Steve had held him, validated him—was never impatient or unkind. And Steve had, or so it seemed at the time, shared himself freely with Eddie too. 

But it was all ruined now.

If not by Steve’s betrayal, then surely Eddie’s running away had finished the job. By taking off, hadn’t he simply proved Steve’s point?

He drove straight through the night, only stopping to pee or to get a coffee whenever his eyelids started to droop, and managed to make the drive to Hawkins in just over eight hours, pulling up to the trailer right as Wayne was getting home from his shift at the plant. 

Eddie shut the ignition off and stepped out of the van on shaky legs. After pulling his bag from the back, he staggered over to meet his uncle as the man was getting out of his own truck. 

“Hey, Pops.”

“You drive all night?” Wayne asked, frowning as he studied Eddie’s face. 

It wasn’t the first time, or even the fifth, that he’d shown up on his uncle’s doorstep unannounced since officially moving out so many years ago, and Wayne didn’t look all that surprised to see him. 

“Yeah.” Eddie admitted.

The older man grunted, a disapproving sound Eddie was all too familiar with, though he knew it was only because his uncle was worried. 

“You better come on inside then. We’ll have some pancakes and you can tell me what you done now.”

Eddie sat at the small two seater kitchen table, the same one that had lived in the trailer's kitchen since he was a small boy, watching as Wayne gently stirred a hefty handful of chocolate chips into the bowl of prepared Bisquick mix and began cooking off pancakes one by one, A skillet of sausages sizzled on another burner. 

“You want coffee?” Wayne asked.

“No, thanks. I think I've had enough. It’s not even perking me up anymore, it’s just making my skin vibrate.” Eddie said through a yawn, rubbing at his strained eyes. 

The drive was catching up to him, the exhaustion seeping into his bones and he knew he’d have to lay down soon or his body would decide for him where a good place to take a nap would be.

Wayne didn’t say much as he finished cooking their meal, waiting until he’d plated it all up and sat down across from Eddie to finally ask the obvious question. 

“So, what is it that’s made you drive all the way out here and leave Chrissy-girl and your beach paradise behind?”

“I’ve been… seeing someone.”

Wayne’s fork slipped from his grip and landed on his plate with a loud clatter, his mouth hanging open in utter shock for a moment before he snapped it shut. He looked down, clearing his throat as he casually picked the fork back up and cut into his stack of fluffy goodness as if it’d never happened.

“Oh?”

Eddie sighed, pushing his untouched plate away and resting his head on the old cracked formica. “I guess I should say was. I was seeing someone, but I'm pretty sure it’s over now.”

“How long was this going on?”

“Two weeks, give or take.”

Wayne let out a long whistle. “You must really like this boy.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Son, you’ve never so much as hinted at dating anyone before. So for you to go from that to a two week long relationship… and don’t think I didn’t notice how you haven't taken a single bite of those chocolate chip pancakes—-your favorite. He must be something special to have you this torn up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. “At least I thought he was.”

“What happened?”

“I found out he lied to me about something. So I freaked out and left.”

Wayne was quiet for long enough that Eddie had to lift his head to make sure the old man was still there. He was leaned back in his chair sipping his tea, plate of food now empty,  watching Eddie with a thoughtful expression. 

“What’d he lie about?”

“Does it matter?!” Eddie snapped, pounding his fist down on the table. “How am I ever supposed to believe him again? How do I know everything else he’s ever told me hasn’t been a lie too?”

“That’s a child’s question, Eddie. Life’s a little more complicated than that. Things aren't always as black and white as we’d like them to be, and not every lie is meant to hurt you.”

Eddie shook his head. “This is exactly why I don’t date, you can’t trust anyone.”

Wayne hummed noncommittally. “I think maybe you’d better tell me the whole story.”

Barring the gory details, i.e. his sex life, Eddie told his uncle the whole saga—from showing up at the motel to find a blast-from-the-past waiting in the lobby, to becoming involuntary roommates with the guy, ultimately finding out it’d all been a ruse, and everything in-between.

“So, you see? It was all just a setup. None of it was real.” Eddie said when it was all laid out.

Wayne tilted his head, setting his empty mug down on the table. “S’a little dramatic, don't you think?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“And he’s from here, y’say?”

Eddie waved him off. “Yeah, but that doesn’t–”

“You gonna make me drag it out of you, boy? What’s his name?”

Eddie sighed. He was the injured party here, why was Wayne interrogating him. 

“It’s Steve.”

“Wait, it’s not… the Harrington boy?!”

Eddie felt his face flush and knew his cheeks had to be bright red.

Wayne cackled, laughing so hard there were tears streaming from the corners of his eyes by the time he was through. “Christ, you’ve been ass over tits for him since you were fifteen years old!”

“I have not!”

“You used to come home talking about him all the time!”

“I was complaining about him,” Eddie grumbled, slumping down in his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he was an asshole.”

“Someone takes up that much space in your head? S’not usually cause you don’t like ‘em.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Can we get back on topic please?”

“Sure.” Wayne agreed. “So, clearly the setup worked.”

“That’s not… well, yes, but—” Eddie sputtered. “Everything was fine, great even. We were happy. I opened up—I was fucking vulnerable, and then it turned out he knew it’d been a scheme. We were watching the front office for Chrissy and Robin last night, and I found some stuff proving most of the rooms were empty. I confronted him about it and he said he’d only just figured it out himself, but–”

“But you don’t believe him.”

“I- I don't know.” Eddie ran a hand through his messier than usual hair. “I want to believe him.”

Deep down, if he was truly honest with himself and searched his heart, Eddie knew Steve was telling the truth. All those times he’d kicked him out of his own bed for a hookup? If Steve had known there was another option, he’d have taken it. And if he’d done that they might never have…

“So what was his crime?” Wayne asked. “He found out after the two of you had already gotten together—and I gotta be honest it sounds like you put that boy through the fucking ringer to accomplish that miracle. You were happy, as you said yourself–”

“He should have told me.” Eddie cut him off, so sure in his conviction that he was right on at least this one point. “And Chrissy–”

“Seems to me those girls did you both a favor.”

Eddie glared.

Wayne stood, immune to the death stare his nephew was sending his way, still talking as he cleared the table and began to work on the sink full of dishes.

“It might not have been the right thing to do on paper, but their hearts were in the right place. Chrissy just wanted to see you happy, Ed, and she ain’t the only one. It’s kept me up at night, thinking about you out there in the world all by yourself. I don’t want to see you wasting your life wandering around, and winding up alone because you're scared.” 

Eddie got up automatically to stand by his side with a clean dish towel, drying and putting away each piece as it was cleaned.

“How do I know it’s not going to turn bad, like Mom and Dad?”

“I suppose you don’t, but sometimes you just gotta take a leap of faith—with both feet. Do you think Steve is anything like your dad?”

“No.” Eddie answered without hesitation. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.” 

Snarky? Yes. Bitchy? Occasionally, but never ever mean.

“Well, there you go,” Wayne said, as if it were that simple. He paused for a moment, rinsing the last pan and handing it off, shaking the excess water from his fingers before he turned, facing Eddie head-on, leaning a hip against the counter.

“Look, it’s never a guarantee that you're gonna find someone in this life, and that’s okay too. Look at me, I've found my home and happiness in other ways, but you—you've kept yourself so closed off. It sounds like you have three people out there who really care about you, so what are you doin’ here?”

The more they talked the less sure Eddie was about the answer to that question. 

“There’s something else too.” He found himself saying, because it wasn't only Steve who had hurt him. “Chrissy… she’s in trouble. The motel is failing. I found stacks and stacks of overdue bills, and she never said a word. Doesn’t she not know how much I love her? That I'd do anything I could to help her and Robin out?”

“Oh, Bubba.” Wayne said softly, drawing Eddie into a tight hug. “She knows, I promise you she knows.”

Eddie let himself sag in the other man’s arms for a minute. His throat was painfully tight, and it was an effort to blink back the tears that so badly wanted to fall from his eyes. He pulled back, running a hand over his face.

“I don’t understand why she wouldn't tell me.”

“That’s something you’ll have to talk to her about, but I think maybe she and Robin wanted to succeed on their own. Chrissy wants you to be proud of her, not see her as a failure.”

“Of course I'm proud of her.”

“Then that’s what you tell her, right after you apologize for snooping through her stuff.” Wayne gave him a hearty pat on the back, and a little nudge in the direction of his old room. “It’ll be alright.”

Eddie’s bedroom still looked exactly as it had since the day he left. He’d only taken what would easily fit in his van, his clothes, his guitar, a few books, and it always surprised him whenever he came for a visit that Wayne hadn’t boxed all the rest of his shit up and made better use of the space. 

It wasn’t like he couldn't sleep on the couch when he dropped by. The trailer was small, too small to give up one of its only two bedrooms for someone who didn’t even live there, but Wayne always made sure he had a soft place to land when he needed it.

He hadn’t slept without Steve since the night they’d fallen into bed together, and it felt strange and wrong now to lie between the sheets by himself, even here in a place where Steve had never been. 

Had he not been so thoroughly drained and worn-out he might have struggled to fall asleep without his human teddy bear to hold on to, but he was that tired, and though he missed Steve with a fierceness that made his chest ache, he dropped off almost the moment his head hit the pillow. 

 When Eddie woke hours later the room was bathed in late afternoon sun, the light shining in through threadbare curtains. It took a moment to remember where he was and why, and he was hit with a familiar wave of sadness—and something else. The same thing he’d been feeling for a while now, for the last year or more, as he roamed from place to place. 

Homesickness. 

He didn’t know when it had gone away exactly, but some time between arriving at the Buckingham and running away from it, he’d stopped longing for a place to call home, and started feeling like he was already there.  

He had to go back. He had to make things right with Steve, and tell Chrissy how amazing she was no matter what happened with the business. Robin too—even though they tended to butt heads, he fucking loved her just as much as the other two.

He loved Steve.

Was in love with him. Full stop. 

No almost. No falling. It was wonderful. It was terrifying. 

And it was far too soon, not that Eddie had any basis to judge such a thing, but also maybe it wasn’t? Because goddamnit Wayne was right. He had been a little obsessed with Steve for more years than was probably healthy, and in some serious denial about why. His sudden crush this summer wasn’t sudden, or new. Lying there now in his childhood bed he could admit all of that to himself. 

Now he just had to be brave and admit it to someone else. 

He jumped out of bed and quickly changed into some of the clean clothes he’d brought, needing to get back to the motel as soon as possible. He’d have to apologize to his uncle for the hit and run, though he was sure the man would understand.

Speaking of the devil, Wayne was up for the day too—sitting at the kitchen table when Eddie rushed in, sipping coffee while he flicked through the newspaper. 

Eddie dumped his bag in the other chair and began to rummage through the cabinets.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Wayne asked, not looking up from his sports section.

“That old travel thermos. Thought I'd take some coffee with me so I can get right on the road.”

Wayne set the paper down and got up with a grunt, quickly locating the exact thermos Eddie was looking for, which had been right in front of his face. 

In his defense, he was in a rush. 

Wayne chuckled, sitting back down as Eddie filled the cup. “What’s your hurry?”

Eddie screwed the lid on and set the thing down, freeing his hands to wind his disheveled curls into a bun as he explained. 

“Just anxious to clean up the mess I made, Pops. I promised myself that I’d make it up to Steve for all the shit I put him through if he gave me a chance, and I've already broken that promise. He might have lied by keeping something from me but—I’m not perfect, and I can't expect him to be either. I shouldn’t have left, and I definitely should have given him the benefit of the doubt. We could've worked this out together.”

“Eddie, I think–”

“I love him, Wayne.”  Eddie didn’t mean to interrupt, but he’d been bursting to say the words out loud since he thought them. “I don’t know exactly what I'm going to say to fix it, but I've got hours of driving time to think about it.” 

Wayne smiled broadly, trying and failing to hide the gleeful expression behind his mug. “You might need to figure it out a little quicker than that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s here, Bubba.” Wayne said quietly, using the cup in his hand to gesture towards the living room. 

Eddie whipped his head around and sure enough there Steve was, sitting quietly on the couch watching him with an unreadable expression. He gulped, stomach flipping as their eyes met.  

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder as he moved past towards the hall. “I'll leave you boys to talk. It was nice to meet you, Steve.” 

Steve stood, offering an awkward wave. “You too, sir.” 

When Wayne was gone, Steve took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen.

Eddie met him halfway, smiling sadly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve repeated back.

It was that first morning all over again. Tension palpable in the air between them.

“I'm sorry to just show up like this.” Steve blurted out, at the same time Eddie said, “So you heard all that, huh?”

They shared a nervous laugh. 

Steve looked away, running a hand through his hair.  

“What are you… how are you here?” Eddie stuttered out. “I mean, how did you know I’d be here?”

“With Wayne is where you feel the safest,” Steve shrugged. “And this is where you planned to go last time.”

Once again Steve had proven himself to be so far beyond anything Eddie thought he deserved. He was a flight risk. Steve could have made his life so much easier by just letting him go, it’s what most people would have done, but Steve had come after him—thought he was worth finding. How could he have ever considered running away from that? 

Eddie took one more step forward, close enough to reach out and take hold of Steve’s hand.

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?”

There was a path that cut through the woods that sat on the edge of the trailer park. Eddie used to take it all the time as a kid when he was bored. It wasn’t a terribly long walk, just enough to get you lost in your thoughts before reaching Sattler’s quarry. 

Eddie sat them down on a log a few feet from the cliff’s edge when they arrived, the irony not lost on him. It was a beautiful view, especially this close to sunset ,as the changing color of the sky was reflected in the dark water below. They hadn’t spoken on the way there, and Eddie took that time to enjoy the feel of Steve’s palm in his, so comfortable and familiar, and think about everything he wanted to say.

Birds chirped, clouds drifted by, and Eddie let the quiet settle around them for a few more minutes as he willed his racing heart to calm, taking a few deep breaths before he began. 

“I have been so scared my entire life, and maybe I learned the lesson a little too intensely to guard my heart and make sure I didn’t wind up like the people around me—that was a good thing for a while, it kept me safe and sane but at a certain point it just left me… alone. It wasn’t just romance I avoided, I was too afraid to make any close connections. I had Chrissy and Wayne and that was enough. Two people with the ability to break me was about all I could handle.” Eddie smiled, letting out a wry huff of laughter. “But then you came along.” 

He stared down at his feet, tracing patterns in the dirt with the heel of his boot.

“I’m sorry that I left. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. And I’m sorry that I hurt you again after begging you to give me a chance. I thought I was all in, but i guess I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Steve's hand found its way to Eddie's knee, stilling his leg which had started to shake up and down with his nerves. He covered Steve's hand with his own, and finally looked up to meet his eyes for the first time since they’d arrived. 

“I’m sorry too,” Steve said, giving his knee a squeeze. “This isn’t all on you. You have every right to be upset. I should have told you as soon as I realized.”

“You were afraid I'd freak out, and you weren’t wrong.” Eddie admitted.

“Still.” 

“Steve, I-I don’t know how to be anything else, but I know I don’t want to be who I’ve been.”

Eddie shook his head, sure that he wasn’t making any sense but he pressed on anyway. Steve had a special talent for deciphering even his most nonsensical ramblings. “I can’t be that guy anymore because he will keep running away—that version of myself won’t let me have this. I’m sure it will take time, and maybe it’s too late, but I want to learn a better way to be.”

“It's not too late,'' Steve murmured, turning his hand over where it rested beneath Eddie’s and lacing their fingers together. “You said you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I think… I think I was doing the same, and maybe I don’t show it the same way, but I’m scared too. I should have trusted you enough to tell you, and maybe it wouldn’t have come to all this.”

“So, what I'm hearing is, we could both do better.” Eddie grinned, releasing a breathy laugh. Which Steve returned as they both leaned in for a moment, brushing shoulders.

Eddie quieted, blowing out a long breath as he looked down at their joined hands, and felt so lucky. He was ready to let go of all the shit he’d allowed to hold him back for so long. He was ready to be happy. 

“Did you mean it? What you said back there to your uncle about me?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded, fighting the urge to hide his face or look away.

Steve bit his lip. “Will you say it again—to me?”

Eddie smiled, nearly choking as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat—so overcome with it all, but in the best way—and found himself tearing up.

“I love you,” he said, voice cracking a little over the words he never thought he’d say to someone in quite this way.

Steve's answering smile lit his whole face up, his eyes beginning to glisten as well. He leaned in, ghosting his lips over Eddie’s as he replied.

“I love you too.”

Steve had barely finished the phrase before they crashed into each other, mouths working in desperate tandem, tongues sliding together like a well rehearsed dance. They kissed like they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of hours, as if any separation was unbearable. Eddie moaned, a high and wonton sound in his throat as Steve guided him over to straddle his lap. 

It was risky to be like this out here in the open. Things might have been a little better on the coast for the gay community in recent years, but that acceptance hadn’t yet made its way to rural Indiana, and the wrong person could easily stumble upon them out here.

Though it went against every base instinct he had, Eddie forced them to slow down, breaking the kiss with an apologetic smile, one hand held gently against Steve’s chest to stop him from chasing after. 

“It’s not safe out here, baby,” he said, sliding himself out of Steve's lap and adjusting himself in his pants. “We could be seen.”

Steve tried to pull him back down anyway. “I don’t care. You’re out, I could be out too. Let them see.”

Eddie groaned, the problem in his jeans getting worse by the second as Steve ran hands up and down his thighs. He wasn’t making it easy to be good. 

“It’s dangerous,” Eddie said, cupping Steve’s cheek. “And I’d hate for our happy reunion to be disrupted by a hate crime.”

It was dusk when they finally left the quarry, and dark by the time they got back to the trailer. Steve's lack of sleep was starting to show, he’d only managed a few hours before giving up, getting in his car, and making the trip to Hawkins.

They had discussed going to stay at Steve’s house for the night where they could be alone, maybe finish what they started without having to worry about a parental figure being in the next room, but Steve insisted he’d rather stay and spend a little time getting to know Wayne while they were here. 

Eddie knew he meant it, but he was sure it was for his own benefit too—so he could spend time with his uncle who he didn't visit nearly enough. 

They’d be heading back to the Buckingham in the morning. Steve could get away with calling out for two days but he was due back on the beach for the 4th, as was Eddie at the bar. Independence Day was a big deal for the town, which went all out every year with a huge fireworks display over the ocean set off from a local fishing boat. 

Wayne cooked up a half dozen burgers on the grill and the three men spent the evening sitting on the front porch shooting the shit and drinking beer until Steve couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

They said their goodnights and goodbyes before turning in, knowing Wayne would likely be asleep when they got up to go in the morning. 

The full size bed in Eddie’s room was a tight squeeze for two full grown men, or it would have been if either of them had any sense of personal space, but they more than happily clung to each other.

Tired or not, it was inevitable that a few well-meaning goodnight kisses would turn into more, and soon they were feeding at each other’s mouths like starving men, until their lips were bitten red, swollen and sore. Eddie slid his hands up under Steve’s shirt, deeply resenting the amount of fabric between them. They didn’t usually bother with clothes at night but out of respect for Wayne, and in an effort to restrain themselves, they’d both worn pajamas to bed—to Eddie’s lament.

He slid his leg between Steve’s, swallowing back a moan at the feel of him long and hard against his thigh.

“Can I at least blow you?” Eddie whined.

Steve gasped, bucking his hips once in a desperate bid for friction before forcing himself to stop.

“Not with your uncle on the other side of this wall.”

Eddie licked a wet line up the column of Steve’s throat. “Come on, baby. You can be quiet.”

“I think you know by now that I can’t.” Steve sucked in another sharp breath as Eddie nibbled on his ear lobe. “It’s that fucking mouth of yours.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

Eddie pulled back, threading his hands through Steve's hair as he gazed down at him with a heart so full he could hardly breath. He was so in love, and by some miracle, despite his numerous fuck ups, the beautiful man in his arms loved him right back.

He pressed his lips to Steve’s forehead, brushed them over each cheek, and finally kissed his mouth one last time before turning over, to sleep pulling Steve's arms around himself. Steve tightened his grip, bringing their bodies impossibly closer as he buried his face in the back of Eddie’s neck with a contented sigh. 

It wasn’t often Eddie played the little spoon to Steve’s big, but tonight he wanted to be held.

Chapter 10

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369 @finntheehumaneater @pearynice

[acescorazon]

Title: Changes

Chapter: 10/?

Rating: M

Word Count: 2686

Chapter Excerpt:

At long last, he forces himself to look over at Crocodile, ignoring how his heart beats in his chest at just the thought of having to interact with him again. Crocodile looks…tired. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes, and when he finally speaks, he has none of his usual arrogance in his voice. “I need you to make more bounties for the marines…” He mutters, putting out his cigar, and as he does, Buggy notices an ashtray filled with cigar butts. He called him in just for that…? Surely, he could have just had Daz tell Buggy all this information so they didn’t have to waste any time.

“Is that all…?” Buggy asks, already ready to get the hell out of the meeting room and far away from Crocodile. Much to his displeasure, though, Crocodile shoves a chair in his direction, “I wish.” He murmurs, “Have a seat, cl…” He sighs, pausing a moment before he finally finishes his sentence. “Have a seat, Buggy.” 

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|

Buggy doesn't exactly need to be walked back to his tent. The island is peaceful and the only other people inhabiting it is Buggy's own crew, so if Mihawk wants to do this as a safety precaution… it's kind of pointless. There's not even any wild animals that could possibly attack Buggy, just Richie and Buggy's favorite feline would never do anything to hurt him. 

Is this just another act of kindness? Is this just Mihawk trying his best to get on Buggy's good side…? Buggy takes a minute to consider the offer before ultimately agreeing to let Mihawk walk him back to his tent. Weird or not, Buggy wants to get on this guy's good side.

They head out of Mihawk's tent walking side by side, and Buggy tries to keep an acceptable distance from Mihawk. He doesn't want to be near him, but he doesn't want Mihawk to take things the wrong way and end up getting into a fight with him and ruining everything. And yet, no matter how much distance Buggy puts between them, they still occasionally bump into each other, only for Buggy to move away slightly, and have the whole process repeat moments later, and Buggy can't tell if it's his fault or Mihawk's.

There's yet another heavy silence between them until Mihawk breaks it, "The sky looks so beautiful tonight." He tells Buggy, who in return, looks up at the night sky. He's not exactly impressed. The sky looks kind of empty, actually, there’s not a full moon or a cluster of beautiful stars in the sky, just a regular, old, boring nighttime sky. “I bet it would be lovely to take a walk along the beach right now.” Mihawk says, and Buggy’s face scrunches in confusion. What…? Uh…Okay…he thinks a moment later, trying to figure out how to reply to Mihawk, “Uh, yeah…” he mutters in response, “I guess so.”

There’s another painfully awkward moment of silence after that before Mihawk sighs for some reason. Buggy is so confused, did he say something wrong or…? As they walk, they pass by the cafeteria again just as Alvida is coming out of the tent. She pauses as soon as she sees Hawkeye and Buggy, giving them both a weird look. Yeah…Yeah, Buggy doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation either… It’s all so weird, and he just knows that Alvida is going to ask him about it later. 

He can hear her voice now: ‘What the hell? Don’t you hate Hawkeye? What were you doing taking a late night stroll with him?!’ Honestly, even if Buggy tells her the truth, though, he doubts she would believe him because even the truth sounds so ridiculous. Mihawk actually wanted to escort him back to his tent for some unknown reason, and Buggy, despite having bad blood with Mihawk, allowed him to do so… Everything is just so weird and hard to believe, and he doesn’t know how to explain the situation. He also doesn’t know how he should tell her or the others that he’s trying to be friends with Mihawk now, either, but that’s another problem for another time. 

The pair come to a halt as soon as they reach Buggy’s tent, and turn to each other, exchanging awkward glances as they stand in front of Buggy’s room. Buggy’s still unsure what he should even say, but thankfully MIhawk speaks first, “Uh…That was nice.” He says, “We should have dinner again sometime…” He pauses a moment, and when Buggy shifts uncomfortably in place, so does Mihawk, “You know, for the sake of Cross Guild.”

Oh, he wants to have another awkward dinner with Buggy… He’s serious about this whole friendship thing and doing what’s right for Cross guild, huh? Buggy resists the urge to groan loudly, and instead gives Mihawk a small smile, “Yeah, uh… that sounds like a good idea.” He doesn’t care at all about Cross Guild, but he thinks he can tolerate a couple of more dinners with Mihawk if it’ll get him to stop hating him. 

“Perhaps, we could have another dinner together this weekend?” Mihawk suggests. 

“Oh, um…” Buggy thinks about the offer for a moment. Today is Tuesday, so that means if Mihawk wants to have dinner on Friday, then Buggy has three days to mentally prepare himself. But if he wants to have it on Saturday, that’s even better. Hell, if Mihawk wants to have dinner on a Sunday that would be just perfect, actually. There’s just one thing… “Are you going to ask Crocodile to join us again?” Buggy asks. 

“…Yeah, i can ask him, but it’ll probably just be us two again…is that okay?”

Whatever. To be honest, Buggy would actually prefer it be that way. He really doesn’t want to see Crocodile. Crocodile hasn’t even apologized, and Buggy doubts he ever will. But that doesn’t matter to Buggy, it’s not like he’d even accept his apology in the first place, and if he never has to see Crocodile again, then that’s just fine. “Yeah, sure…” Buggy pauses and then afterwards turns to look up at Mihawk, “Uh… Goodnight, then?” He tells him.

“Goodnight.” Mihawk replies, but he lingers for a moment too long, looking like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. “Uh, i’ll see you later…” He mutters before finally turning around and leaving Buggy alone and with his thoughts. 

Man, he’s been acting so weird lately… Buggy thinks, shaking his head as he goes inside his tent. As he gets ready for bed, his mind is filled with thoughts of Hawkeye. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore, but part of him is starting to believe that maybe Mihawk is being genuine and actually wants to start over again, but it’s still so weird, and Buggy doesn’t know if he should actually forgive him.

Mihawk might not be as bad as Crocodile, but he’s still pretty shitty. He’s called Buggy names, and beaten him up quite a few times too… So, why should Buggy ever forgive him for real? He thinks he’ll just have to learn how to tolerate him, but he definitely doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with Mihawk. He doesn’t want to have weekly dinners, or go to every one of Hawkeye’s training sessions with Buggy’s crew, or even hang out after meetings (If they ever have those again.)  he just wants to do the bare minimum, something that’s just enough to get on Hawkeye’s good side and get him to stop tormenting him once and for all, and that’s it. 

Buggy climbs into bed once he’s got his pajamas on and stares up at the ceiling, man, I just don’t get it… He thinks as he drifts off to sleep. 

…

First thing in the morning, Buggy has to welcome some more recruits to the island, and he briefly thinks about showing his new children around, but he can’t be bothered. Not that it really matters anyway because halfway through introducing himself to his new crewmates and promising that their families will be taken care of, a rather tall and intimidating fellow peeks his head into his main tent, silently waiting for Buggy to finish what he’s doing. 

Now, this person has never done Buggy wrong, but he’s definitely not an ally, and Buggy watches Daz out of the corner of his eye as he continues to act like everything is fine. There’s only one reason why Daz would show up in front of him, and Buggy already feels his stomach starting to turn. Why? What could Crocodile possibly want now? He thinks. He quickly finishes up what he’s doing and waves goodbye to the new members of his family before cautiously approaching Daz. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to muster up a little bit of courage to talk to Crocodile’s right-hand man, “Ah, is there something you need, Daz?” He asks, but he already knows the answer that Daz is going to give him.

“The boss wants to see you.” Daz replies simply, and all Buggy can do is force a smile because he knew it. He just knew it. He knew that his break from Crocodile wouldn’t last long, and that he’d eventually summon him to do some trivial task.

God, he doesn’t want to see Crocodile, but he knows it’s pointless trying to argue with Daz of all people. If Buggy says he’s sick or busy, Daz will probably just ignore him and drag him back to his beloved boss, and just...he really doesn’t want to deal with that crap today. It’d be easier just to see what Crocodile wants. 

Buggy nods, “Do you know what he wants?” He asks, and he hopes there might be a tiny chance that maybe he won’t actually have to see Crocodile after all, but, of course, he’s not that lucky. Daz shakes his head, “No, he just told me to come get you.” Yeah… Yeah, Buggy figured as much. He forces another smile onto his face again as he nods, “Okay, sure…I understand.”

You know, the day started out so great. He woke up feeling refreshed, breakfast was nice, and he got to meet a couple of new recruits, and those are all usually three signs that he’s going to have a good day, but now he’s not too sure. He follows closely behind Daz as he leads him to the meeting room, wishing that Daz didn’t insist on staying by his side and bringing him to Crocodile personally. Maybe then he could have a couple of more minutes to prepare himself to see Crocodile.

He wonders what he’ll want this time. Perhaps he wants a mansion built? Oh, or maybe he wants Buggy to find him one of those ancient weapons he’s so obsessed with. Or… Or… maybe he wants Buggy to pull the one piece out of a hat? Who knows?! There’s just so many different things Crocodile can demand him to do, the possibilities really are endless. Crocodile really is the worst, and if Buggy is so incompetent, then why does he always make him do things?

Whatever, he doesn’t care.

Before Buggy even steps foot into the meeting room, he’s hit with the strong stench of Crocodile’s cigars, and he tries not to make a face. He briefly wonders just how much time Crocodile’s spent in the damn meeting room, but his question is more or less answered the moment he goes inside. It hasn’t even been three weeks since that emergency meeting Mihawk called, but Crocodile has more or less trashed everything. There are papers and folders in messy piles scattered all over the table, and the floor is littered with balls of crumbled up paper, pens, and boxes with presumably more documents in them. What is all this crap? Buggy thinks. 

At long last, he forces himself to look over at Crocodile, ignoring how his heart beats in his chest at just the thought of having to interact with him again. Crocodile looks…tired. His hair is a mess and there are bags under his eyes, and when he finally speaks, he has none of his usual arrogance in his voice. “I need you to make more bounties for the marines…” He mutters, putting out his cigar, and as he does, Buggy notices an ashtray filled with cigar butts. He called him in just for that…? Surely, he could have just had Daz tell Buggy all this information so they didn’t have to waste any time.

“Is that all…?” Buggy asks, already ready to get the hell out of the meeting room and far away from Crocodile. Much to his displeasure, though, Crocodile shoves a chair in his direction, “I wish.” He murmurs, “Have a seat, cl…” He sighs, pausing a moment before he finally finishes his sentence. “Have a seat, Buggy.” 

Buggy stands frozen in place for a long moment, looking down at the chair in front of him. He… He doesn’t want to stay here, though. Why can’t Crocodile just make him a list or something? Or better yet, why can’t he have someone else do his errands for him? Why does it always have to be Buggy? Buggy’s useless and a fuck up. He never does anything right, and Crocodile can’t even stand to be in the same room with him. So why call him? It just doesn’t make any sense.

Crocodile pinches the bridge of his nose when Buggy remains motionless for a little too long,

“Please…is that what you want to hear?” No, that’s not what Buggy wants to hear, what he really wants to hear is: ‘You can leave.’ but it doesn’t seem like Crocodile has intentions of letting him go that easily. “Look, i need you to do a couple of things for me, just have a seat.”

Buggy stares at Crocodile for another long moment before slowly sitting down at the table next to him. He hates this already. He doesn’t like to be this close to Crocodile, especially not in a small space. And to make things worse, Daz leaves the moment he realizes he’s no longer needed, leaving the room to just Buggy and Crocodile.

“...How was your dinner with Hawkeye…?”Crocodile asks as he hands Buggy a manila folder. Why is he asking about that…? Why is he even making small talk with Buggy right now? Doesn’t he hate this kind of thing? “Uh…Good…” Buggy replies in a tight voice, not sure what else he’s supposed to say, not that there’s really much to say about his dinner with Mihawk.

“...That’s good…” Crocodile replies, “Anyways, in that folder i just gave you there are the names of marines that need bounties made, and i also made a list of ones who need their bounties taken off the market.” Buggy nods in response, hoping that Crocodile won’t have too much for him to do. “Also, i’m so damn tired of eating sea king for dinner, i need you to send a few of your men into the nearest town to gather some more food.” 

Buggy nods again, “Uh… is that it then?”

“I also need you to send money to the families of all our recruits.”

“...Is that all?”

Crocodile stares at him with cold eyes, and the small act makes Buggy look down at the table and mutter a quick apology. “Look, clown…” Crocodile says, but then groans. He pauses briefly  before finally speaking again, “Okay, listen…Buggy. I just need some help, okay?” But, again, why can’t he just ask Galdino or Daz, or even one of Buggy’s men to help him?! Why does it have to be Buggy? “Can’t Galdino or Daz help you out?” Buggy asks, cautiously, “They’re a lot more efficient than i am, right?”

“I already have them doing something.” Crocodile sighs, “Just, please, help me out a little.”

Crocodile’s making it seem like he has a choice in the matter, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, could it? Buggy is in debt to Crocodile, and whether he likes it or not he has to help him, He just wishes Crocodile would have used one of the hundreds of other men around the island to help him out instead of Buggy. 

Still, he remains seated, making a list of all the things Crocodile wants to be done. Like always though, he wants way too much done and within a short period of time, and Buggy just knows that he’s going to get yelled at for something…or worse, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

Make new bounties, get more food, pay the recruits’ families, call the weapons’ dealer and ask if they have the guns he and Crocodile were talking about…Look into buying more boats… Order more shitty cigars…look into purchasing more land…Buggy reads his list out in his head, and fights back a groan. He feels like a damn secretary, and the worst part is, after giving Buggy all those orders, Crocodile turns to him and sighs before giving him one last command:

“Oh, and help me organize all my documents.” Good god, why?!

[echantedtoon]

In The Moon's Shadow (Yandere Kokushibo x Reader) Ch4 Beginning

(Warnings: Y/n's boss treats her horribly.

For context the sun looks like the picture above. Pic not mine. Found on Pinterest.)

You didn't remember when you collapsed.

It must've been sometime during the middle of the night because you woke up the next morning collapsed on the floor just behind the table of perfumes. You woke dizzy and confused. Why weren't you in your bed? Where was your house? You had sat up confused. It was still raining outside although not quite as  bad as last night. You remember that part at least. It was only when you moved. It was only until something red fell from your lap. When a red candle rolled across the floor. That you remembered.

A demon had visitedh you last night 

Disregarding everything else, your body managed to get to the front door of the shop and opened it up to poke your head out and look up and down the streets. Rain pelted everything in sight as grey clouds filled the sky and thunder continued to clash overhead every few minutes. The winds continued to blow the trees but not as bad as last night. The streets remained empty as they had did yesterday. No human or demon in sight. With no one around, you closed the door and backed up into the safety of the store. After a moment of standing there, your head turned and stared at the candle. A moment later feet approached and a hand picked the rather large red candle off the floor holding it up to turquoise eyes. The smell of cinnamon rolled over your senses before a sigh escaped your lips. 

"So it wasn't just a nightmare."

A demon had been here. A demon that you had met before in the woods, and who now wanted you to do a custom candle carving for him. His voice from last night echoing in your mind the longer you stared at the cinnamon red candle.

 "I want you to carve a sun into this. Make the sun look as if it was made of dancing flames."

For whatever his reasons were, he wanted you to do a custom job for him on the candle. It was such a surreal experience. .. Turquoise eyes glanced at the table. A few bottles of perfume was still knocked over. On instinct a hand reached out to start neatly pushing the bottles right side up, however it paused when eyes caught sight of a green soap bar. The green soap smelled of mint and was partially carved into a blooming rose. It was a bit strange to carve a green mint soap into a rose shape when it didn't even smell like the flower but it was unique and that's what you liked about it. You liked it's scent and spending so much free time carving as much detail you could into it as a hobby. You thought it looked beautiful but then again so did someone else.

 "Then I want this also, looking as if it was in full bloom."

The demon had taken interest in it also and ordered you finished it along with the candle. Within two weeks no less. All that hard work you put into it down the drain. But we're you going to argue with a six foot demon that looked like he could rip you in half with a single hand?

No. No you were not.

You could always restart on making you another one. No little piece of soap was worth your life. The surreal day was very quiet aside from the rain, lightning, thunder, and wind. Leaving you alone in the home. Not knowing what else to do, you walked around your boss's home and tided up her living space and doing some chores around her home. It'd be something to help you get your mind off things. In reality you were stalling on returning to your home. It's not that you didn't want to go home to your own house, but you were afraid. Afraid to go outside in the storm by yourself and  running into that demon. Or worse. Running into another demon that wasn't so...nice?? You wouldn't say the one you met was friendly but rather him than an unfriendly one.

Eventually after some time you say down at the table and picked up the red candle again looking it over before fetching a small metal stick about as thick and big as a single chopstick, and setting to work starting on the wax. A sun made of dancing flames...You had an idea of what it should look like but it would take at least three maybe four days to carve out such a detailed design on a big candle since you usually didn't do such big designs and so detailed. But you supposed now would be as good as any time to get started you guessed. No one else showed up that day, neither did your boss although you kept glancing out the window for any signs of life.  None made themselves known. At the end of the day, you managed to find some food in your boss's food you borrowed and slept on a few spare pillows and blankets you found for the night not wanting to walk home right now. Well..she also said you could stay so you didn't have to walk home in this weather. You awoke the next morning to the sounds of a door opening and the sounds of footsteps shuffling around. It jolted you awake out of fear of the approaching figure, but instantly calmed down as the surprised face of your boss shuffled into her home.

She looked surprised seeing you laying there on the ground but soon scowled at you lying there. "Just what are you doing here?"

You should've known it was here from the shuffling and tiny fast footsteps but you guessed in your sleepy stare hadn't registered it. But you were relieved seeing that it was her. "I-I was tired and fell asleep."

She scowled harder at you. "You slept here? I said you could stay for one night not two!"

"I'm sorry," you apologized to her.

"You used my blankets, and you ate my food!" Her hands rested on her hips in annoyance. "You completely went against what I said!"

"I said that I was sorry-"

A hand was held up to your face. "No excuses! You took advantage of my kindness and I won't have you trying to defend such vile actions!"

"But I cleaned for you-"

"Talking back to me? You don't know when to stop do you?! For that you'll work the rest of this week without pay!," she proudly and angrily stated puffing her chest at your stunned look. "Perhaps that'll teach you not to talk back to your elders! Now get off my floor-" She roughly pointed a hand out the door. "-and go clean those sheets! I won't sleep in them after you used them!"

"But-"

"Talking back again? You can do my entire futon then and make yourself useful!"

You just shut your mouth and decided not to argue with her anymore in order to avoid anymore scolding and possibly more chores thrusted upon her. Under her angry gave, she followed you gathering sheets and laundry before essentially kicking you out arms full of clothes. You stared back at her angry look as she gripped the door.

"And don't return until your finished with it!"

SLAM!!

You flinched when the door slammed shut in your face and you were left standing in the middle of the street. The mud and puddles from the previous two day's showers squished under your feet as you just stepped back..and looked around. The streets were barren still and muddy and wet because of the rain. Water droplets dropped from the roofs and branches of the trees making a faint sound of rain even though it currently wasn't raining. The skies above were littered still with grey storm clouds but they were spaced apart from one another. Hopefully that met the storm was leaving soon. The wind gently blew across the empty streets giving it an eerie feeling. You felt a shiver run down your spine before you turned and started quickly walking down the road towards your home. You'd do the laundry there and change before coming back. Hopefully by then your boss would've calmed down.

The safety and warmth of your own home greeted you with glee and you were happy to be back. Happy to run a quick bath. Happy to do laundry. Happy to clean up around a little bit before just stopping to just take a breather and eat while waiting for the laundry to dry. Some time to yourself for a change before gathering up the sheets and folding them neatly. Gathering them in your arms before leaving your home again back down the quiet streets and back towards your boss's house. Turning one corner- And ramming into what was practically a wall of purple and black. Startled you jumped back and blinked nearly slipping on the muddy ground and looking up before completely freezing-

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Your eyes stared widely at the looming figure of the demon you saw two night ago. His six eyes glaring down at you under the hat sat upon his head. "It's still rude to stare."

Immediately you froze. A cold feeling running through your veins before immediately your body bowed. "I-Im so sorry, Sir! I didn't m-mean to run into you! That w-w-was my mistake."

He didn't move but did tilt his head at the sheets and blankets you carried before humming. "Yes. I forgotten women must take care of their households. I suppose your husband has you running laundry."

You blinked. "Huh?" You glanced up to him in confusion before leaning back up and shaking your head. "N-No. These are for my boss."

The eyes shifted back up to you making you flinch. "I was under the impression that you were employed at the business I visited two nights ago."

"I am. But my boss ordered me to clean these for her."

The eyes continued to stare at you but became half lidded. "I wasn't under the impression that you were also her personal aid."

"I'm not, but I might as well be with everyone else she's had me do for her. But I have a job and I can't complain about it.'' Your eyes wondered from his face to his haori coat which was soaked and clinging slightly to his body. "You're soaked."

"I know."

"Have you been out in this weather since I met you?"

"Since before I met you," he corrected calmly but bluntly, "I made to stay in your village's inn but it seems no one wanted to answer my knocking."

You glanced over his soaked body for a long moment before looking back up to the sky. The grey clouds were still trudging along slowly. He's been outside in the weather for who knows how long. With everyone still terrified and in hiding, it's unlikely that he'll be able to get proper shelter especially if anyone else knew he wasn't human. You felt a pang of pity for him but.. Turquoise eyes glanced back to the sword on his side. You weren't going to chance anything. Who knows who this man was and what he did for a living? You'd have no part of it...But-

"If it's shelter you want," you spoke slowly making your eyes look back to him, "-there's an old abandoned cabin just outside town where the exit leads further into the mountains." You gestured to the far side of town and the complete opposite of where your home was. "No one's lived in it since the owner died a few years ago. Nowadays it's just used by a few men when they go hunting in the woods."

He did not say anything but just stared at you in silence. You stared back feeling more nervous, the more he bore into your eyes. The mud under your feet squishing as you shuffled uncomfortably. 

"...I see," he settled on saying making her jolt slightly. "You should be working. I will not pay if I don't believe that Im not getting my money's worth."

You blinked and bowed- Or .. That's what he was expecting her to do but instead she frowned upon him, her brows furrowing.

"For your information, Sir, I am working on what you wanted," you calmly stated, "My work entails more than just carving so you'll have to understand that I just can't drop my other duties to tend to your order alone. I will get it done how you'll like, but that doesn't mean you will undermine my job."

......He blinked-

"Please give me patience. I understand you want it done within a certain timeframe and your agreement shall be met. Do not rush me for the detailed work you want will take time. I pride myself on not being sloppy." You politely stepped around him. "I'll try to be done by next week's end. Good day to you."

Your shoulder lightly brushed his by accident as you passed his form. He continued to stand there before a hand reached out to where her shoulder lightly brushed his own. Fingers gripped the fabric bunching up his haori sleeve. A head turned silently towards the retreating woman's figure. ...A simple hum escaping his throat.

Your boss was happy when you arrived back a few hours later with the clean sheets, however she then yelled and scolding you loudly over dragging mud onto her porch and onto her home. Demanding that you immediately clean it up then and there, on top of cleaning the floors and mud she HERSELF dragged in when she came back. You didn't argue. You deflated and grabbed a bucket and scrubbing brush from the back, not in the mood to fight and argue with her anymore today. She sat comfortably in the corner painstakingly looking over each and every sheet as you just swept the floors.

"..... There's a stain on the top one here!," she unfolded the top blanket and pointed out a smalL acorn sized stain in the corner of the blanket that would otherwise have been unnoticeable to anyone. "I told you to CLEAN them!"

"But that stain was there long before I cleaned them. It's sauce from one of your lunches you spilt remem-"

"Talking back to me again?! For that you can clean ALL my floors then and I expect you to move furniture! That should teach you for doing an inadequate job and talking back to your elders!"

You wanted to yell at her, but only frowned and returned to your sweeping and biting your tongue. You didn't feel like gaining a headache further from this stupid situation. You found yourself nearly getting spooked by her when she shuffled into the front of the store. Your knees bare from rolling up the hem of your dress and sleeves to better scrub the floors with. Dipping your brush into the water filled bucket next to you before pressing it back against the wooden floors and scrubbing it clean. She stayed to scrutinizingly glare over your shoulder as you did so, but you weren't expecting her to leave for a moment. You felt relieved for only a second before something red blurred in your face. You instinctively jumped back dropping the scrub brush with a thud.

"AHA! And what's this?!," she demanded holding up a red cinnamon scented candle at your face. The very same candle you had left on the small table by the perfumes. "What's the meaning of this? I didn't give you any permission to touch any of the candles! It's a candle to be sold, not a canvas for your hobbies!"

You just stared tiredly letting her finish her yelling before giving an inhale. "I'm not using it for a hobby. Someone asked me to do a custom carving for them."

"Who?!," she demanded squinting her eyes unbelieving at you.

"A man. He came a day or two ago and asked me for a few carvings for him."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"He said he'll be back sometime within two weeks. If you don't believe me, you may wait until he arrives and I'll show you him."

"Don't tell me what I may or may not do in my own home!!," she spat at your tired face, "For that you can scrub the porch too!" She hissed before whipping her hand to the candle and the beginnings of a carving on it... before huffing and turning to drop it back onto the table. "But if you think it will amuse me, I certainly will wait and we'll see this 'man' you speak of. If he exists."

"If? But he does-"

"TALKING BACK AGAIN!! YOU CAN DUST THE SHELVES TOO!!"

You turned back around and just went back to scrubbing the rest of the home's floors. You would not be getting any work done today it looked like. Unbeknownst to the both of you someone saw. Someone who had gone to hunt while you swept and was just now making his way back to a certain cabin with a plump pheasant in his hands from a successful small hunt. Passing yell got his attention briefly on the yelling woman and the young lady scrubbing the floors but he only passed on by with nothing but a hum to the situation.

You in fact did not get anymore work done that day too busy with cleaning everything while the angry older woman continued to scrutinizing you until it got dark enough for you to go home, and by that, your boss made you make her dinner before kicking you out for the night. You went back home exhausted and frustrated at the situation but returned the next day with the intentions of finishing up your work. This time you paid no mind to her angry ramblings or her glares as you just sat back down and began carving into the surface of the red candle. One day turned to two. Two to three. Three to four-

"It's been half a week already. There's still no sign of any man," your boss chastised you while putting more incense bundles she dried up on the shelves one day while giving you a suspicious look as if you had deliberately lied to her. 

"I said he was returning in two weeks time, not half of one week." Small shavings of red wax fell to your lap as you began adding the final finishing details into the candle. By the end of today at least one job will be done. You paused to blow the smaller shavings off the wax for a clear view of the patterns etched around the body of the red candle. 

The older woman paused narrowing her eyes more. "Are you talking back to me?"

"Not at all. I'm only telling you what he told me," you said politely to avoid anymore arguments.

"Hmm. To me it sounds like you're talking back." 

"No. Please not again." You stopped tracing the very last detail in to look over your shoulder at her tiredly. "I promise you I'm not."

"You're definitely talking back to me!" Her expression soured as she crossed her arms and scowled at you again. "So once you're done with that candle, go clean my bathroom before you start on anything else he supposedly asked for. Clearly you haven't learnt your lesson."

"But-"

"Anymore back talk and I won't pay you next week as well!"

You decided to bite your tongue again and just go clean the bathroom after finishing up the candle. It wouldn't have been the first time you cleaned it and you didn't want to lose another week's pay over an old woman's anger. However you supposed you should've went into more detail about what exactly he wanted because she practically flipped when she saw you continuing work on the green soap rose.

"What are you doing?!," she roared as soon as she saw you push the small carving knife into the green soap to continue carving the fake petals. "You're supposed to be working! Not wasting time with stupid toys you're making for yourself!'' she demanded angrily pointing out the objects in your hands.

You didn't even bother looking up this time and only focused on your work. "He wanted this too."

"WHAT?!"

"He saw this and decided that he wanted to purchase this from me too. I told him it'd take me a while and that's why he said he'd return within two weeks time."

She sneered almost instantly. "Now I know you lie! You're only saying that because you want to laze about like a lame cat and fiddle with your own stupid hobbies than put in real work and expecting to be paid still!"

"I never said that I expected to be paid if I lied-," you ever patiently said politely to avoid making her further angry, "-but I did not lie. I'm not doing these things just for myself but genuinely because I am working. And I have put in a lot of real work. I have done everything you have asked me to do."

"Well, since you want to insist on this little charade and lie about this, I'll indulge you only so I can catch you in your lies! But since I know you're lying, and you continue to talk back to me, you can just finish restocking all these shelves yourself while I go visit my grandson." You gave her a look and opened your mouth- "Don't you dare give me that dirty look! For that you can just wash the windows too!"

You decided not to argue as she dropped the last of the incense bundles on the floor and stomped away. You only tiredly glanced as the bundles thudded onto the floor before looking at the soap in your hands still needing to be carved and you sighed. You would not be getting it done as fast as you hoped. You only turned paused your carving and stood up to carefully pick up the incense bundles off the floor to neatly stack them back onto the shelf before turning to walk towards the kitchen in the back. You'd be needing some water to clean up all the windows. A bucket and cloth later, turquoise eyes glanced out of the window towards the outside. A moment later a damp rag was pressed to the glass and started wiping away any dirt and dust. You'll do the inside first before cleaning up the outsides of the windows. Thankfully there wasn't very many so you'd be done quick and be able to get back to work. Turquoise eyes watched the rag on the window.. before glancing up and pausing as they stared into the multiple eyes of a tall demon. The man was there again just on the edge of the porch looking directly at you. Both of you just stood there for a long moment unmoving-

"What are you doing?!" A loud voice made you jump whirling around to your annoyed boss. "I'm heading out now, that doesn't mean you can slack off."

"I-I wasn't! I was just-" You looked back out the window and paused again. He was gone- He was literally standing just right there feet away from you! How did he move so fast?! Your head leaned into the window to look around more. Where did he go?!

"Uh huh. Well if you're done with your daydreaming, get done! I want them spotless by the time I come back!"

You didn't make any complaints as she left. You did not see anymore demons that day.

The town had slowly gone back to normal over the last few days as you continued on your carving. People started coming out again cautiously at first and only the men to gather supplies for their families. But they soon fell back into routine which was enough reassurance for their women to go out too followed by their children like the scare a week before had never happened. You supposed it should've been comforting to you to see life back to normal but you knew there actually was a demon about. A very tall demon with a sword...

But he hadn't made a move to harm anyone.

The most he's done that was even remotely threatening so far you've seen was that night you first met, when you realized he had been gripping his sword in defense, but you had snuck up on him so you couldn't blame him for being on the defensive and he had stood down as soon as he saw you didn't mean him any harm. And he also hadn't shown any other aggressiveness from the few other times you saw one another. Sure he might've been a bit rude and blunt but that's hardly dangerous. So you decided to keep it to yourself. That...and you didn't know what your boss would do next if she had found out that the man you were doing business with wasn't a human man. One more day. One more step closer to finishing. You were almost done with it now cutting each little fake petal into the soap until it looked like a little green rose. You left your finished work next to the red candle with the bright swirling sun carved into its red wax. Your boss continued to scrutinize you as the end of the time frame approached. Often looking outside and commenting that she never saw anyone.

"No one came in for you today."

Or whenever there was a customer, she'd comment on how they weren't there for the carved items.

"That was Mr. Sako. He bought some bath salts for his wife, but I see he didn't even mention anything about your work."

Or just plain accusations.

"I'm starting to run out of patience for your game! Make yourself useful and get me some tea!"

You were starting to get worried. It was almost the end of the week and you hadn't seen this demon yet. You'd thought about going to the old cabin and seeing if he was there, but the thought of going to see a demon alone didn't sound like a good idea even if he hadn't done anything to anyone. You only hoped for him to show up soon.

With another day coming to a close you just went about minding your own business sweeping the floor when a huff made you pause in your movements and look over. The older woman could be seen at her little station in the back pulling a blue candle out of a small cauldron in the fire where bubbling wax was boiling. The process of candle making warmed up the home a lot, and as it was already a warm summer, the windows had been opened and the door left wind open to help regulate the heat. 

"It's getting close to sundown," she commented holding up the candles above the cauldron by the wicks, watching as the wax dropped off then and back into the pot before she'd let them cool a bit and add another layer by dipping them back in. Repeating the process until they were the size she wanted them to be. "The day will be over soon. Don't you think you should head home?"

"I will after I finish sweeping like you told me," you politely said with a smile. 

She only huffed before turning back to her work. "I'm surprised that you're insisting on getting back on my good side. After all, after this week is over and Im proven right, you won't be getting any pay for at least a month for lying to me for so long."

You frowned before just sweeping the floors again. This really wasn't your best time. The bristles swept the small pile of dirt closer and closer towards the open doorway as your focus was mainly on the floor pushing the dirt along until the broom bumped against something in the way. Turquoise eyes followed the thing on the floor before pausing in sudden realization as a foot stood there right next to another. Your head snapped up. A gasp escaped your throat and the broom dropped from your hands with a clatter. The noise had caught the attention of the older woman who turned with an annoyed look but also paused shocked seeing the looming tall figure in the doorway.

The demon had returned.

He stayed inhumanly silent as you both stared back at him before he decided to speak. "I'm here to see if you have finished." His voice was as monotone and blunt as ever as his head tilted at you. "I did tell you that I would be back."

Your boss froze seeing him letting the wax drip out onto the floor no doubt making a mess. You stood there blinking before slowly exhaling and giving him a smile. "O-Oh. Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't hear you walk in. You startled me."

"Apologies."

"No it's alright." You held up a hand making him blink. "I'm sure you didn't mean to do don't apologize." That...wasn't something he expected her to stay. You smiled wider before pointing at the inside of the home. "I finished every just today so you came at a great time. Come in and I'll show them to you."

You walked on over to the small table in the middle of the room and he slowly followed silently stepping over the broom on the floor. He watched as she smiled and lifted two objects in her hands before turning back to him with a smile and presenting them out to him. The smells of cinnamon, cloves, and mint filled his senses and he was almost taken back when he first saw them, six eyes widening. 

"I hope you're pleased with them." The eyes looked back to turquoise ones. The unusual pretty color of them catching the lantern light above her making them sparkle like two clear pools of water making them go even more wide. "I tried to put as much detail as I could into the designs without making it too complicated. I hope that's alright."

He didn't speak for a moment. Taking in the sight of her sparkling eyes... Turquoise. Strange color. He'd never seen another woman with such a specific color eyes. It seemed like a perfectly calm and cool color matching her soft features, especially her soft lips smiling at him and the slight rosiness of her cheeks no doubt caused by the heat in the house, but it was such a soft pink one could confuse her for blushing.  Blushing at him-

BU-BUMP-

A clawed hand harshly dug into the front of his haori as the rest of his body, including his eyes stayed motionless and fixated on you. The sudden grip of his arm made you jump and blink at his hand gripping his chest.

"A bee." She blinked back to him. "There was a bee flying about. Forgive me." His hand slowly lowered from his chest to reach out to her hands holding the objects. "I would like to examine the objects before I decide on any payment."

She nodded holding them out to him. "That's perfectly fine. I'd want to be sure you're getting what you're paying for."

She watched him pick up the candle first, his calloused hands brushing against her scared palms. ..Soft. Her skin was softer and warmer than it looked- He forcibly pushed those thoughts to the side and just looked at the red candle. Again eyes widened. Carved with the curve of the candle was a spiral circle twisting around itself, on the outside of the strange spiral circle was flames reaching out and dancing in different directions. It was...Lovely. His brother would no doubt definitely like this. She didn't say anything when he reached out and just took the other object from her hands and looked at it. The smell of mint was added to the spicy cinnamon, as he stared at the green soap carved into a rose. It wasn't the real thing, but it looked rather close to it. This should suffice for his wife. 

You felt a slight nervous feeling the longer he stared at them before he bothered talking. "These will suffice."

A breath you didn't know you were holding escaped your mouth in a relieved sigh before smiling again at him. "I'm glad you find my work acceptable."

"What's your price?"

"Uh..." You.. hadn't really thought about that. You were too busy trying to get the work actually done and doing whatever your annoyed boss ordered you to do. "I..I haven't really thought about that actua-"

"Fifty ten!" You jumped and turned as your boss confidently shuffled up beside you both and proudly smiled at him. "No more no less! I charge a decent amount for my wares!"

You stared at her in shock. How could she stand there and dare yell at a frightening looking demon?! But then you realized. She must not know he's a demon. His long bangs hid most of his eyes and the darkness of the low hat he wore disguised anything else that might've peeked through, so unless you pushed them out of the way, you'd have no idea he wasn't human. Otherwise he looked completely normal like any other man. Nevertheless his head tilted at her... before silently looking back at you.

"How much did you want?" You looked back to him. "Money is not an issue."

"I just said-"

"It's rude to interrupt a conversation, especially one where you're not involved in, Woman." Your boss stopped shocked by his tone and you also looked surprised by his sudden slight annoyed tone. "I'm speaking to the one who actually put in the work."

Your boss stared slack jawed, obviously caught off guard that she'd dared to be talked like this before she again scowled and pointed at him. "I'll have you know that the candle and soap you're holding was made by my hands!!"

"And yet you're not the one who's made them into beautiful artworks. You did nothing but leave them to be used for anyone else to enjoy. My business is not with you."

"I put my hard work into those things! Who do you think you're talking to, Boy?!"

"A nagging wench who should learn to hold her tongue." Your jaw dropped and eyes went wide as your boss turned a deep red and so angry you were expecting steam to pop from her eardrums. "I refuse to do business with one who refuses my existence. Your wailing is so obnoxious that I could hear it in my sleep. You're position of owner doesn't apply to authority over her like a slave."

You were stunned to say the least. Watching silently as he just told your angry boss off like a child before his hand reached into the folds of his haori coat. The sounds of metal jingling filled the air as a decently sized bag was pulled out and held out to you. 

"I believe this will cover the expenses for each of them."

You only continued to stare at the bag before shaking hands reached out to take it from him and good gods!! It had a bit of weight to it. Automatically you reached up to pull the strings lose and pull the cloth back- Only to almost have your eyes bug out of your skull at the sight of shining yellow.

"I-Is this-"

"Yes. And it's only for you. If anyone else should try to take it for whatever reason-" He spoke while putting his free hand on the hilt of his sword. "-I will not be so kind then." His actions got the old woman to go wide eyed before gulping and taking a step back.

"I-I don't know w-w-what to say." You stuttered out looking back at him. "I-I can't accept this much. T-This is much too much. I-Id be taking too much from you." Your hands held it back out to him. Your actions in doing so surprised him as he leaned back surprised. "At l-least take it back so we can work out a more appropriate payment."

He stared before turning his head from it. "No. You'd offend me more if you refused my offer." His words had you lower the bag. "Take it to make up for the lost wages my presence here has cost you." Wait. How did he know about that? "My business here is concluded. Will you be leaving soon?"

You just...numbly nodded before on autopilot reached down to pick up the broom again and just made back for the dirt pile that was still in front of the door. "I just need to finish the floor here." You mumbled.

"Then I shall wait and walk you home as it's late." He silently watched for a few seconds as you numbly finished your sweeping before turning back to the still pale old woman. "...Your wax is boiling over."

Her head snapped around and a screech left her mouth as the candle wax left unwatched boiled over and dropped messily into the fireplace the smell of burnt wax filling the air. 

Her screech had snapped you out of your stupor and you made to help her but a strong hand grabbing your wrist had stopped you. "She can fix her own mess for once. Leave her and head home."

You could still hear her cussing and wails as you chose to walk down the street with a demon still holding your wrist, being too nervous to argue with the tall demon. The bag of gold coins firmly in your other hand as you awkwardly started walking down the road like this. A few people still walking around despite the setting sun stopped to give you both some curious looks but you only looked down red in embarrassment. This was incredibly strange and awkward for you and you had no idea what to think of this or how to feel. The best you could do was to just walk faster hoping to get to your home faster and get this over with. He said nothing during the entire duration of your traveling until you had tugged on your wrist and stopped in the middle of the road. He obliged and let you go as you looked at him. 

"I-I live on the end of this road. You can part ways w-with me now," you spoke still politely as he looked at you, "T-Thank you for...for...for everything however. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

He only gave you a half lidded look. "That woman. She is the owner?"

You blinked as he just blatantly ignored anything you just said but slowly answered, "Yyyeesss?"

He hummed. "Hm. I am surprised that she's able to keep her business running the way she does ordering everyone around her like that."

You shrugged. "She's always been that way. People around here are just used to her by now. I'm used to it too."

"That is why you are a pushover?"

You frowned. "I'm not a pushover. I just don't have many options for a job being a woman especially in such a small town like this. If I quit or get fired then my only other choices would be to either settle down with one of the men as a wife or became a maid in the local inn."

"Do you not already work at that woman's maid?"

"Yes, but at least with her I know what I'm dealing with. The inn is also the local tavern where men like to drink. Id rather not deal with the drunk shenanigans of men...Ah. No offense."

He blinked. "You apologize to me as if I were a man to be offended-"

"Aren't you?," she asked innocently tilting her head and blinking her large eye almost...cutely. "I may not know a lot about you, but you are a man. Aren't you?"

"I am a demon."

"How is that relevant? You are a man, and I don't think you should be treated differently because of the small fact of being a demon or not."

He didn't say anything. Just stared at you with those eyes studying your figure for a long moment. Turquoise eyes blinked back at him sparkling from the retreating sunlight.

"....You should go home to your husband before it gets dark."

"I'm not married." He hummed at you. "I don't have a husband. I'm not seeing anyone."

A beautiful woman like her without a husband? Doubtful. At the very least she was already being courted and closed to being engaged.

"Hm...You should go inside before it gets dark. Women shouldn't stay out at night where it's dangerous."

You took that as your chance to leave. With another bow, you quickly turned and practically sped walked down the street until you got to your house at the very end of the road. You turned back once, made eye contact with his form, smiled and waved at him, before turning back around, and quickly opened the door. He watched her form fully disappear inside her home before turning and starting to walk away towards the exit of town. 

Shame...She was rather lovely. Such unique eyes as well.

[kmomof4]

A Mistress to No One Part 3 Ch. 10

🎶 It’s the FINAL CHAPTER🎶 Yes, those musical notes are to indicate singing those words to the tune of Europe’s The Final Countdown. Yeah, I know I’m dating myself, but I DON’T CARE!!! We made it to the end and happy endings abound in this last installment! 

Speaking of this last installment... Y’all... this fic has been finished for six weeks. But I decided on Thursday to add just a bit to the end... well, that bit turned into approx 3,000 words, bringing the final word count of the chapter to just over 10k 😳😱 I have NEVER posted a 10k chapter... So be sure you have plenty of snacks and a drink handy when you sit down to read... That bit also includes smut, which is again separated at the beginning and end by a double scene change line, like this...

~*~*~

~*~*~, if you’d like to skip it.

Thank you all so much for coming along on this journey with me! All the love, comments, likes, and kudos this fic has gotten has been so thrilling and humbling!! I am so glad y’all enjoyed the ride! Thank you all so much again!!!

All the love and thanks in the world to @hollyethecurious for her love and support, and for whom the fic was written, @jrob64 and @zaharadessert for their betaing expertise and their help getting unstuck, and finally to @motherkatereloyshipper for her manips I used in the artwork. Thank you all so much, ladies!!! Love y’all very much!!!

Summary: Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones. Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process.

Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds?

Rating: M (smut)

Words: Just over 10k of nearly 65k

Tags: Birthday Fic, Inspired by Benedict’s Story in Bridgerton, Regency Romance, Smut

On ao3 From the beginning/ Current ch

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9

New Tag List! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook​ @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Dearest Reader,

La! What excitement yesterday on the front steps of Lady Jones’ residence!

First off, Mary Margaret Blanchard was seen in the company of not one, not two, but THREE Jones brothers, surely a heretofore impossible feat for the poor girl, who is rather infamous for her wallflower ways. Sadly (though perhaps predictably) when she finally departed, it was on the arm of the viscount, the only married man in the bunch.

If Miss Blanchard were to somehow drag a Jones brother to the altar, it would not only be the end of the world as we know it, but This Author, who freely admits she wouldn’t know which way was up in such a world, would be forced to resign her post on the spot.

Now if Miss Blanchard’s gathering wasn’t shocking enough, not three hours later, a woman was accosted right in front of the townhouse by the Countess of Glowerhaven, who lives right across the street. It seems the woman, whom This Author suspects was working in the Jones household, used to work for the Lady Glowerhaven. Lady Glowerhaven alleges that the unidentified woman stole from her two years ago and immediately had the poor thing carted off to jail.

This Author is not certain what the punishment is these days for theft, but one has to suspect, when the alleged victim is a Countess, it is quite severe, indeed. The poor girl is likely to be hanged. Or at the very least find herself transported to Australia.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

May 8

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Killian’s first inclination the following morning was to pour himself a stiff drink. He may not normally partake this early in the day, but after the emotional upheaval from the night before and then the lousy night’s sleep he’d had, he thought he was entitled.

But then he remembered he’d made a date with David for a fencing match that morning. Skewering his brother sounded rather appealing, no matter that he had nothing to do with Killian’s quite wretched mood.

What else were brothers for, anyway?

“I’ve only an hour,” David said as he attached the safety tip to his foil. “I have an appointment this afternoon.”

“No matter,” Killian replied, lunging forward a few times to loosen up his leg muscles. It had been quite some time since he’d fenced. It felt good to hold the sword in his hand. “It won’t take more than an hour to best you.”

David rolled his eyes and pulled down his mask while Killian walked to the center of the room. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Not quite,” David said. Killian lunged again. “I said I wasn’t ready!” David cried, jumping out of the way.

“You’re too slow,” Killian snapped.

David cursed under his breath. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Killian all but snarled. “Why would you say so?”

“Oh, perhaps because you nearly took my bloody head off,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“If I did,” Killian snarked back, “it’d be quite bloody indeed.”

“Are you ready?” David asked, getting into position.

Killian nodded and bent his knees.

“Regular rules,” David said, assuming a fencer’s crouch. “No slashing.”

Killian nodded sharply.

“En garde!”

Both men raise their right arms, twisting their wrists until their palms faced up, foils gripped in their fingers. Killian advanced immediately, lunging and attacking, but David had always been rather fleet of foot, and he retreated carefully, meeting Killian’s attack with an expert parry.

“You’re in a bad mood today,” David said, lunging forward and just nearly catching Killian on the shoulder.

Killian stepped out of his way, lifting his blade to block the attack. “Yes, well,” he said through gritted teeth. He advanced again, his foil stretched straight out. “I had a bad day.”

David sidestepped his attack neatly, touching the handle of his foil to his forehead in a mock salute.

“Shut up and fence,” Killian growled.

“I didn’t say a word,” David chuckled. He advanced, swishing his blade this way and that, keeping Killian on the retreat. “It must be a woman.”

Killian blocked David’s attack and quickly began his own advance. “None of your damn business.”

“It’s a woman,” David said, the smirk on his face clear from the tone of his words.

Killian lunged forward, the tip of his foil catching David on the collarbone. “Point,” he grunted, unable to keep a smug smirk off of his face.

David gave a curt nod. “Touch for you,” he said. They walked back to the center of the room and resumed their position.

“En garde. Fence!”

This time David went on the attack. “If you need some advice about women…” he said, driving Killian back to the corner.

“If I needed advice about women,” Killian interrupted, blocking David’s attack with enough force to send him stumbling backward, “I can assure you, you’d be the last person I’d come to.”

“You wound me,” David said, regaining his balance.

“No, that’s what the safety tip is for.”

“I certainly have a better record with women than you,” David asserted.

“Oh, really?” Killian said sarcastically. “‘I am certainly not going to marry Mary Margaret Blanchard.’”

Killian could almost feel David wince at the reminder of his faux pax.

“You,” Killian continued, “shouldn’t be giving advice to anyone.”

“I didn’t know she was there.”

Killian lunged, just missing David’s shoulder. “That’s no excuse,” he said. “You were outside, in broad daylight. Even if she hadn’t been there, someone could have heard and the bloody thing would have ended up in Whistledown.”

“I was foolish,” David acknowledged. “But you are stupid.”

“What the hell does that mean?’

David sighed as he pushed up his mask. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and marry the girl?”

Killian just stared at him, his foil down at his side. Was there any possibility that David didn’t know who they were talking about? He removed his mask and looked into his brother’s blue eyes and nearly groaned aloud. David knew. He didn’t know how David knew, but he definitely knew.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been terribly surprised. David always knew everything. In fact, the only person who ever seemed to know more gossip than David was Ruby.

“How did you know?” he asked, quietly.

One corner of David’s lip lifted into a crooked smile. “About Emma? It’s rather obvious.”

“David, she’s…”

“A maid?” David interrupted. “Who cares? What is going to happen to you if you marry her?” he asked with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “People you couldn’t care less about will ostracize you? Hell, I wouldn’t mind being ostracized by some of the people with whom I’m forced to socialize.”

Killian shrugged dismissively. “I’d already decided I didn’t care about all that.”

“Then what in bloody hell is the problem?” David demanded.

“It’s complicated.”

“Nothing is ever as complicated as it is in one’s mind,” David asserted.

Killian thought about his brother’s words then took a deep breath. “Do you remember Mother’s masquerade?”

David blinked at the unexpected question. “Two years ago, just before she moved out of Jones House?”

Killian nodded. “That’s the one. Do you remember meeting a woman in blue? You came upon us in the hallway.”

“Of course. You were rather taken with…” David’s eyes got big as saucers. “That wasn’t Emma?”

Killian nodded.

“But… how…”

“I don’t know for sure how she got there, but she’s not a maid.”

��She’s not?”

“Well, she is a maid,” Killian clarified, “but she’s also the bastard daughter of the Earl of Glowerhaven.”

“Not the current…”

“No, the one who died several years back.”

“And you knew all this?”

“I knew she was a nobleman’s bastard,” Killian admitted. “But I just found out his identity yesterday.”

“I see.” They were both quiet for a minute. “What are you going to do?”

“That… is a very good question.” Killian looked down at the floor. Yes, he was still angry and confused over her concealing of her identity, but his speculation about where she came from made the bile rise in his mouth in disgust. He knew the Countess of Glowerhaven was a witch, but if his guesses were true, there was no measuring his hatred for the woman.

And what of Emma herself? He’d already decided to risk social ostracizing and ask her to marry him. The bastard daughter of a nobleman was better than a servant, but only slightly. It was quite possible he and Emma would have to eschew London society for a quiet life in the country. It took him only a moment to realize a life with Emma in the country was far preferable to a life in London without her.

But would she agree? She said she loved him. But the things he’d said to her, the anger and bitterness and leaving her the way he did… Did it really matter that she was the woman from the masquerade?

No. It didn’t. She may have concealed her identity from him, but as he spent time with her the last month, she took up more and more of his heart, of his mind. He knew her soul.

When they kissed, when they laughed, when she kept him company as he sketched, that was the real Emma.

And he loved her.

“You look like you’ve come to a decision,” David said quietly.

Killian eyed his brother thoughtfully. When had he grown so perceptive? Or rather, when had he grown up? David had never had to assume any real responsibility and his character had always reflected that.

But as Killian looked at him now, he saw a man. His shoulders were a little broader, his posture a little more steady. And his eyes were wiser. That was the real difference. If eyes were truly the windows of the soul, then his younger brother’s soul had gone and grown up on him when he wasn’t paying attention.

“I owe her a few apologies,” Killian said.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“She owes me several as well,” he said wryly.

He could tell David wanted to ask him why, but instead he said, “Are you willing to forgive her?”

Killian nodded.

David took Killian’s foil from him. “I’ll put this up for you.”

Killian stood there stupidly for a moment. “I have to go,” he blurted out.

David raised an eyebrow at him. “I surmised as much.”

Killian was suddenly taken by an overwhelming urge. He reached out and pulled David into a hug.

“I don’t say this very often, but I love you.”

David pulled back and patted him on the shoulder. “I love you, too. Now get out of here.”

Killian handed him his mask and strode out of the room.

~*~*~

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“Just that, Killian,” his mother informed him, her eyes sad and sympathetic. “She resigned her position and disappeared.”

The pressure building behind his eyes was almost too much. He rubbed his temples in agitation. He felt like he was going to explode.

“And you just let her go?”

“Killian, I couldn’t very well force her to stay if she wished to leave.”

“Where did she go?”

His mother seemed to deflate in her chair at his question. “I don’t know. I, of course, insisted that she take one of our carriages, just so I’d know where she went, but she disappeared before it could be brought round.”

Killian ran his hands through his hair, gripping at his temples trying to relieve the blinding headache forming there. How could he possibly find her? London was a huge city, and if she didn’t want to be found, he knew it’d be impossible to do so. She’d proven that two years ago.

“She’s Glowerhaven’s daughter,” he said, cutting his eyes toward her to see her reaction.

She nodded. “I surmised as much. Illegitimate, I assume?”

Killian nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else. But before she could, Tink and Tilly burst into the room, completely out of breath.

“What is it?” Lady Jones asked, rising from the sofa.

“It’s Emma,” Tink panted.

“Yes, I know,” she said, “She’s gone. We…”

“No!” Tilly cut in, slapping a piece of paper down on the desk. “Look.”

Killian tried to grab the latest edition of Lady Whistledown, but his mother got there first.

“What is it?” he asked, watching as his mother’s face lost all color. She handed him the paper. He scanned through it until he came to the section about Mary Margaret Blanchard, then he came to the section that could only be about Emma.

“Jail?” he whispered. His eyes met his mothers and the fear and concern in them sharpened into determination.

“We must see her released.” Her eyes flashed and she looked like a general about to charge into battle. Killian was already halfway to the door. “Wait!” she called. “I’m coming with you!”

Her words stopped Killian in his tracks. “You are most certainly not coming. I will not have you exposed to…”

“Oh, please,” his mother shot back. “I’m hardly a shrinking violet. And I can vouch for Emma’s honesty and integrity.”

“I’m coming, too,” Tilly said, skidding to a halt next to Tink, who had also followed them out into the upstairs hall.

“No!” The simultaneous reply from both their mother and brother silenced whatever protests they may have thought to utter.

Killian turned to his mother. “If you want to go, we leave immediately.”

“Have the carriage brought round, and I’ll be waiting out front,” she assured him.

Ten minutes later, they were on their way.

~*~*~

Emma sat in the dark, dank prison feeling utterly sorry for herself. It was cold, it was filthy, it stank, and there were rats. Just the thought made her shudder in revulsion.

“You have a visitor.”

Emma jumped at the gruff, unfriendly voice of the warden. She couldn’t help the increase of her heart rate. Was it possible that Killian could have discovered what happened to her?

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

Cora. Emma’s heart sank.

“Emma Swan. I never would have guessed that you would have the audacity to show your face in London again,” she crooned. Emma held her tongue and let all the hatred she had for the woman show on her face. She knew Cora wanted to get a rise out of her, and she refused to give her the satisfaction.

“Things are not looking well for you,” she said, her head wagging in false sympathy. She leaned forward and whispered, “The magistrate doesn’t take very kindly to thieves.”

Cora watched her, waiting for her to say or do something, she was sure, if only to try and tack that on to the list of charges against her.

“The shoe clips were bad enough,” Cora said, tapping her chin with her finger. “But he grew positively incensed when I informed him of the theft of my wedding ring.”

Emma’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t…” she said, before cutting herself off.

“Oh, didn’t you?” Cora replied, a sly smile on her face. She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers in front of the bars. “I don’t appear to be wearing it, and it’s your word against mine.”

Emma’s rage was white hot at this hateful, hateful woman, but she didn’t say a word. Because Cora was right. No one would take her word over a countess. Cora smiled.

“You’ll either be hanged or sent to Australia,” she informed Emma with a shrug. “Not that it matters to me. Either way, I’ll never have to see you again.” Her smile turned cold and absolutely evil.

Emma looked at this woman, who had tormented her for so many years and she suddenly had to know. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

Cora came close to the bars and spoke, a sneer in her voice. “You exist. He forced me to live with you. He was punishing me for not giving him an heir.”

Emma could say nothing.

“How could he have gone and had a child with some whore and I couldn’t give him a child?” Emma knew she didn’t really expect an answer, and so she remained silent.

“I hated you. I hated to see you. I hated to hear you. I hated that you had to live in my house.”

“It was my house, too,” Emma whispered.

“I know,” Cora said bitterly. “And I hated that, too. So once he was gone and I was forced to keep you, I decided to take everything I could from you. You deserved it. And I was entitled.”

Emma shook with rage, humiliation, and fear. How could she stand up to such blind hatred? But as she stared at this woman who’d done everything in her power to destroy her, Emma suddenly felt the fear disappear and a resolve fill her that she’d never known. She stood up as straight as she could and looked Cora right in the eye.

“I was right. All those years ago,” she said, quietly. She didn’t expect her words to make any difference, but they brought her a peace she didn’t expect, given her circumstances. “My heart is far kinder, far better than yours. If you even have a heart. No matter what you do to me, you will never be satisfied. You will always be hateful and bitter, and cruel, and you will never know love. And that is no way to live.” Emma felt the tears gather in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. At least she had known love, even if it was beyond her reach now. Simply loving Killian Jones, actually experiencing it for herself, made her a better person.

There was a commotion around the corner that caught both their attention.

“What the devil?” Cora asked, stepping back and craning her head to try and see. And then Emma heard a very familiar voice and her heart leapt.

“Killian?” she whispered.

Cora snapped her head toward Emma. “What did you say?”

But Emma ignored her.

“I said,” Killian roared, “let us pass! And bring the magistrate!”

“Killian!” Emma shouted. She forgot that she didn’t want him to see her in such degrading circumstances. She forgot there was no future for them. All she could think was that he found her. He’d come for her.

A rather sickening smack, obviously that of flesh against bone, echoed through the air, followed by a thud, likely the target of the first smack falling to the floor. Then she heard running footsteps.

“Killian!”

“Emma! My God, are you well?” His hands reached through the bars, cupping her cheeks, touching her face everywhere he could reach. His lips found hers, the kiss this time not of passion and desire, but of terror and relief.

“Mr. Jones?” Cora squeaked.

Emma somehow managed to pull her eyes off of Killian and onto Cora’s shocked face. In all the excitement, she’d quite forgotten that Cora was unaware of her ties to the Jones family.

Killian turned blazing eyes on Cora and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are your charges against her?” he demanded.

And instead of cowering and quaking as any sane person would have done in the face of Killian Jones’ ire, Cora straightened up, planted her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye.

“Theft!” she shouted.

Suddenly, Lady Jones came around the corner. “I cannot believe that our Emma would ever…”

“This…” and here Cora threw a scathing glance at Emma through the bars, “girl had the audacity to steal my wedding band!”

“I didn’t steal your wedding band and you know it!” Emma cried, unable to contain herself any longer.

“You stole my shoe clips,” Cora shot right back. Emma snapped her mouth shut. “Ha! See?” Cora crowed. “A clear admission of guilt.”

“She is your step-daughter,” Killian growled. “She never should have been put in the position of feeling the need to…”

“Don’t you ever,” Cora seethed, her face turning red, “call her my step-daughter. She is nothing to me.”

“I beg your pardon,” Lady Jones interjected, “but if she was truly nothing to you, why are you here, in this filthy and stinking jail, gloating over her and trying to get her executed?”

Cora was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the warden, who sported a spectacular black eye, and the magistrate. Since the warden had spanked her as he pushed her into the cell, Emma could not find it within herself to feel sorry for him.

“What is going on here?” the magistrate asked. He was a thin man, with a head of curly red hair and spectacles on his face.

“This woman,” Killian began pointing at Cora, his loud voice effectively silencing the rest of them, “has accused my fiancée of theft.”

Fiancée?

Emma clutched tightly to the bars, as her legs threatened to give out on her.

“Fiancée?” Cora gasped.

“Yes,” Killian confirmed, glaring at her.

“And who exactly are you?” the magistrate asked, obviously realizing Killian was someone important, even if he didn’t know precisely who.

“Killian Jones,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Er…” the magistrate began, looking a bit nonplussed. “Any relation to the Viscount?”

“He’s my brother.”

“And she’s your,” he said, gulping hard and pointing at Emma, “your fiancée?”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing and stood silently gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can’t marry her!” Cora screeched.

“And why not?” Killian looked first at Emma, love shining in his eyes, then at his mother. “As long as she agrees, is there any reason I need to consult Lady Glowerhaven about this?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Lady Jones confirmed.

“She’s nothing but a whore!” Cora screamed. “Her mother was a whore, and so is…”

She was cut off sharply and completely by Killian pushing her to the wall, holding her there by the throat. “Do not say another word.” His voice was low and deadly and Emma thought she might swoon.

The magistrate tapped Killian on the shoulder. “You really should let her go.”

“Might I put a muzzle on her?”

The poor man looked torn, but he did eventually shake his head. With obvious reluctance, Killian let her go.

“If you marry her,” Cora wheezed, rubbing her throat, “I will make sure everyone in the ton knows exactly what she is- the bastard daughter of a whore.”

Killian moved into the countess’s face. “And your step-daughter,” he growled.

“She stole from me!” Cora cried.

“No, you stole from her!” Killian roared. The room descended into complete silence.

“You stole her very childhood from her! The hatred and abuse she suffered at your hands from the time you married her father, and then, after he was gone, making her a servant in her own house!” Killian knew he was veering into unconfirmed territory concerning Emma’s past with his words, but the pain in her eyes and her desperation to keep the truth hidden from him told him he could probably bet his sizable fortune that he was very close to the truth. Close enough that no one would question it. He turned back to the magistrate. “My fiancée is the bastard daughter of the late Earl of Glowerhaven. And that is why the dowager countess has falsely accused her of theft. It is revenge and hatred. Pure and simple.”

The magistrate looked from Killian to Cora, and finally to Emma. “Is this true?” he asked her. “Have you been falsely accused?”

“She took my shoe clips!” Cora shrieked. “I swear on my late husband’s grave, she took the shoe clips!”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Mother, I took the shoe clips.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open and everyone’s attention turned to the newcomer. “Regina?”

Killian looked back at Emma when she spoke to find her white as a sheet.

“Get out of here,” Cora hissed. “You have no place in these proceedings.

“Obviously she does,” the magistrate interjected. “Now just who are you, miss?”

“Miss Regina Mills, sir,” Regina introduced herself. “Daughter to the countess. If Emma is to be transported for theft, then I must be, too.”

The warden took out his keys and looked to the magistrate. “Sir?” he asked.

“Put those away,” the magistrate said. “We’re not incarcerating the countess’ daughter.”

“Do not put those away,” Lady Jones cut in. “I want my future daughter-in-law released immediately.”

The warden looked helplessly at the magistrate. “Oh, very well,” he sighed. “Release her. But no one is going anywhere until I have this straightened out.”

The warden dutifully released Emma, and Killian moved quickly to gather her in his arms. “But no lovey-dovey reunions until I figure out who is to be arrested.”

“No one is being arrested,” Killian growled.

“She is going to Australia,” Cora cried, pointing at Emma.

“No, she isn’t,” Regina shouted, “not if I’m the one who took the shoe clips!”

“Regina, will you please be quiet?” Emma whispered, “Trust me, you do not want to be in that cell. It’s dreadful. And there are rats.”

Regina began to inch away from the cell.

“You will never see another invitation in this town,” Lady Jones said to Cora.

“I am a countess!” Cora hissed.

“And I am more popular,” Lady Jones replied with a haughty lift of her chin, the snide words so out of character for her that both Killian and Emma’s jaws dropped with surprise.

“Enough!” the magistrate shouted. He turned to Regina while pointing at Cora. “Is she your mother?”

Regina nodded.

“And you said you stole the shoe clips?”

Regina nodded again. “I kept them in my own closet. And no one stole her wedding band, either. It is in her jewelry box at home.”

But Cora insisted. “It is not!”

The gleam in Regina’s eye was evident and Emma felt like cheering. Yes, she was thrilled that Regina was speaking up on her behalf, but more than that, that she had finally found the strength to speak against her mother.

“Oh, yes, it is,” Regina continued. “The one you keep in the third drawer on the left.”

Cora’s face lost all color. The magistrate turned to the countess. “You don’t seem to have a very good case against Miss Swan, Lady Glowerhaven.”

Cora shook with rage as she pointed a long finger at her daughter. “Miss Swan stole from me and my daughter is lying,” she hissed in a low voice so full of malice it almost didn’t sound human. “I don’t know why she is lying or what she hopes to gain from it, but she is lying.”

It was all Emma could do to keep from rolling her eyes at Cora’s hypocrisy. But her stomach began to churn painfully at the thought of what Regina would face when she got home. She couldn’t allow that.

“Regina didn’t…” Emma stopped, completely breathless from where Regina had elbowed her in the belly. Hard.

“Excuse me,” the magistrate asked. “Did you say something?”

Emma shook her head, completely unable to speak. Regina had knocked her breath clear to My Cottage. The magistrate let out a weary sigh and pulled off his glasses to clean them. He looked at each of them in turn when he was finished and then spoke.

“Clearly, there is more here going on than just a shoe clip,” he said.

“Shoe clips,” Cora interjected, “There were two.”

The magistrate rolled his eyes. “Regardless, you all obviously detest one another, and I would like to know why before I go ahead and charge anyone.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then they all started speaking, shouting over one another.

“Silence,” the magistrate hollered over them all. “You,” he said, pointing at Emma, “start.”

“Uhhh…” Now that Emma had the floor, she was rather self-conscious. Killian held her closer, and Regina squeezed her hand in silent support. “What he said was correct,” she said, turning her eyes upon Killian briefly, before turning her attention to the magistrate again. “I am the daughter of the late Earl of Glowerhaven, though I was never acknowledged as such.”

Cora opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again at the withering glance the magistrate shot her way.

“I lived at Spencer Hall for five years before my father married the countess. He said he was my guardian, but everyone knew the truth.”

Lady Jones smiled. “I knew them. Your father, your grandmother, and your aunt,” she said, smiling softly. “It’s why you’ve always looked so familiar to me.”

Emma flashed her a small smile. Hearing these words made Emma feel that much more confident. That much more secure, as she continued her tale.

“When the earl married the countess, she didn’t want me living there, but the earl insisted. I rarely saw him, and I don’t think he thought very much of me, but he did see me as his responsibility, and wouldn't allow her to boot me out. But when he died…” Emma stopped and swallowed thickly. She’d never told this part of her story to anyone and while Killian had guessed it correctly, the words still felt strange in her mouth. “When he died, his will specified that Lady Glowerhaven’s portion would be trebled if she kept me in her household until I turned twenty. So she did. But my position changed dramatically. I became a servant.”

Killian hugged her closer to his side as she continued to speak, the anger at having his earlier words confirmed running through his veins.

“Well, not really a servant,” she continued, wryly. “A servant is paid. I was not.”

Emma looked over at Cora and felt a wave of satisfaction come over her. Everything was going to be alright. The man she loved had, in a rather roundabout way, asked her to marry him, and Cora was about to get exactly what she deserved. Even with everything this horrible woman had done to her over the years, Emma’s heart and spirit were still strong. Cora had not defeated her.

“After the earl died, Lady Glowerhaven kept me on as an unpaid lady’s maid. Although in truth, I did the work of three lady’s maids, a housekeeper, and a scullery maid.”

“You know,” Regina interjected, “Lady Whistledown said the very same thing last month! About our maids doing the work of three.”

“Shut up, Regina,” Cora snapped.

“When I turned twenty,” Emma continued, “she didn’t turn me out. To this day, I don’t know why.”

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Cora interjected.

“I don’t think we’ve heard nearly enough,” Killian snapped, glaring daggers at Cora.

Emma looked to the magistrate for guidance. At his nod, she continued. “I can only deduce that she rather enjoyed ordering me about. Or perhaps having a free lady’s maid. There was nothing left to me from my father’s will.”

“That’s not true,” Regina interrupted. Emma turned to her in shock. “He did leave you money,” she insisted.

Emma’s mouth dropped. “B- but… but… that’s impossible. I had nothing. My father saw to my welfare up to age twenty, but after that…”

“After that,” Regina added, quite forcefully, “you had a dowry.”

“A dowry?” Emma whispered. She looked up at Killian who looked as shocked as she felt. Emma watched as that shock melted into a fury she’d never seen in his eyes as his gaze moved to Cora.

“That’s not true!” Cora’s voice was as shrill and grating as ever, but there was a hint of tremor in her words.

“You really shouldn’t leave incriminating evidence lying around, Mother,” Regina said. “I read the earl’s will last year. It was in the same box where she kept her wedding band.”

“You stole my dowry?” Emma whispered, still too shocked to manage more than that. All these years she’d thought her father had left her with nothing. She’d known that he’d only seen her as his responsibility, but it had stung that he’d left dowries for his two step-daughters and not her, his own blood. “He left me a dowry,” she said in a daze, as she looked at Killian again.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t need it.”

The magistrate turned to Cora. “And what has happened to her dowry?”

Cora said nothing.

Lady Jones cleared her throat. “I don’t think it’s terribly legal to embezzle a young woman’s dowry.” A slow, satisfied smile spread on her face. “Is it, Cora?”

Killian decided he had never loved his mother more than he did at that very minute. The rage at Lady Glowerhaven still coursed through him, but he tried not to grin at the woman standing there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“So, it appears the only one guilty of a crime here is the countess herself,” Killian said smugly.

The magistrate looked uncomfortable and Cora’s eyes blazed with hatred, self-importance, but no small amount of trepidation.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“In the eyes of the law, Countess, all are equal, no matter their class,” the magistrate said in a low voice. “I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter.” He nodded at the warden, who pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

Cora pulled her hands up toward her face, refusing to hold them out. Killian released Emma and moved into the countess’ personal space, his face inches from hers. The fear, though still tinged with the haughtiness she’d come to expect from Cora, was finally evident in her eyes and Emma couldn’t look away.

“You hold your hands out, Countess,” he spat out her title with disgust, “and accept what is your due, unless you want me to personally throw you into that cell.”

The haughtiness disappeared, only the fear and a blazing hatred remaining in her gaze. She swallowed thickly before speaking.

“I will go myself,” she whispered. Killian moved away from her as she gathered her skirts and entered the open cell. The warden closed the door behind her and turned to the rest of them.

“Well,” the magistrate said, relief clear in his voice. “That takes care of that, I do believe.”

“Agreed,” Lady Jones added. “Would you be so kind as to show us the way out? I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention when we came in.”

“Of course, Lady Jones,” he said. “Right this way.”

When they were all back on the sidewalk outside the jail, Emma turned to Regina and hugged her tightly as the young woman burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Regina cried. “I’m so sorry! I never stood up for you. I should have-”

“Nonsense,” Emma interrupted, pulling back to look her sister in the face. “You were young, I was young. And I know how difficult it is to stand up to her.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed, when Emma released her.

“Thank you?” Emma laughed, “For what? I have to thank you! I’d be on my way to Australia if it wasn’t for you.”

As Killian and Lady Jones watched Emma and Regina embrace, Killian bent down and whispered in his mother’s ear.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” he asked.

She looked at him with a pleased smile. “No, but I know anyway.”

“Have I mentioned that you are the best of mothers?”

“No, but I know that, too.”

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s a privilege to be your son.”

Lady Jones gasped and then burst into tears.

“What did you say to her?” Emma demanded.

“It’s all right,” Lady Jones said, sniffling loudly. She threw her arms around Killian. “I love you, too!”

Regina turned to Emma. “This is a nice family,” she said.

Emma smiled. “I know.”

~*~*~

That evening, everything and everyone had been arranged. Regina had returned home to inform Zelena what had happened with their mother. Since Zelena had already accepted a proposal that season, she packed her bags and adjourned to her fiance’s home. Regina had been offered a place in the Jones home, which she’d eagerly accepted.

And now, Emma sat on Killian’s sofa. The same one on which she’d given herself to him just a couple of weeks ago. Lady Jones had questioned the wisdom (and propriety) of Emma coming to Killian’s home alone, but Killian had given her such a look that she’d quickly backed down, simply telling him to have her home by seven.

Killian sat next to her and took her hands in his.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, looking down at their clasped hands.

“No, I’m sorry,” Killian replied. Emma sighed.

“This is very silly, I suppose,” she said. “But let me go first, please.” Killian nodded, his blue eyes searching hers. “I should have told you who I was. It was wrong of me to keep it from you. I think I was afraid of how you’d respond.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “But what I told you was true. I did fall in love with you that night. I dreamt of you for two years until you saved me from Neal Gold. But then, when you didn’t recognize me, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or heartbroken.” She paused again and took a deep breath before continuing. “Because I did feel that connection with you. I felt you before I even laid eyes on you.”

“I did, too,” he interrupted. “And then I felt the same thing again before I discovered you were there at the pond.”

Emma shrugged, her face a bit sheepish. “When you didn’t recognize me, I thought…”

“You thought it was nothing more than a fantasy,” Killian finished for her. “Nothing more than a dream of a girl wishing for a better life.”

Emma nodded. “But then, there at My Cottage, I fell in love with you. The real you. I got to know you, and the… the… fantasy, the dream of love I held in my heart and mind became true. And by then…” she caught her breath as a sob threatened, “it was too late.”

“And I shattered any remaining part of the dream by asking you to be my mistress,” Killian concluded. Emma just looked at him, her silence indicating her agreement. “I never should have done that.”

“What else could you have done?” Emma asked. “To you, I was only a servant, and gentlemen of the ton do not marry servants. You wanted me, you said you were falling in love with me by then, but there was nothing to be done other than that!” She looked into his eyes, love and a profound contentment like she’d never known reflected there and settled her heart and spirit as she continued. “That connection. That very first night. I knew then I’d been born to be yours.” She looked down at their clasped hands and watched as a tear splashed onto them. She looked up at Killian and was shocked to see the tears there. His throat worked, but he couldn’t speak. He was completely overcome. She raised her hand to his face and drew him to her lips.

The kiss was tender. So tender and full of passion that it took her breath away. She opened to him with a quiet moan when his tongue requested entrance, his hands cupping her face. Long moments later, he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers.

“I love you, Emma. More than I ever thought possible, more than I could have dreamed.”

She looked into his eyes and ran her fingers down the side of his face. “I love you, too.”

He pulled back from her and searched her eyes. “Now it’s my turn. I may not have had an alternative to asking you to be my mistress at the time, but I should have respected your wishes and not continued my pursuit when you rejected my offer.”

“Well,” she interrupted, her eyes dancing with mischief, “if you hadn’t, we might not have made our way here.”

He acknowledged her point with a tilt of his head. “I love you, Emma. I want to marry you. I’d already decided before I found you in the nursery that social consequences could be damned. I was going to ask you to marry me and hope that you would have me.” He looked in her eyes, surprised to see the tears now swimming in her gaze. “We might not be able to live in London, but whenever I thought of what I really needed in life- not what I wanted, but what I needed- the only thing that kept coming up was you.”

He paused for a moment. “You took the time to see me,” he whispered. “Not Mr. Jones. Not Number Two. Me. Killian. You loved me for me.”

The vulnerability was back in his eyes and Emma touched his cheek gently. “You’re the finest person I know. I adore your family, but I love you.”

He pulled her into his arms. There was nothing else he could do. He had to feel her, reassure himself that she was there and that she would always be there. With him, by his side, until death did they part. He just had to hold her. Simply hold her. He turned his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent…

“Would you care for a bath?”

“Oh, God!” Emma cried, pulling back from him. “The jail was so filthy and I had to sleep on the ground…”

“Don’t tell me anymore,” Killian growled. “I don’t want to know the details. Although a more perfect environment for Cora before she is transported, I truly can’t imagine.” A smile tickled his lips. “I think you should have a bath.”

“Right.” She nodded as she rose to her feet. “I’ll go straight to your mother’s…”

“Here.”

“Here?”

He smiled fully. “Here.”

“But we told your mother…”

“That you’d be home by nine.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “I think she said seven.”

“Did she? Funny, I heard nine.”

Emma tilted her head, feigned chastisement on her face. “Killian…”

He took her hand and led her toward the door. “Seven sounds an awful lot like nine.”

“Killian…”

“Actually,” he continued as if she hadn’t even spoken, a sly smile lifting his lips, “it sounds even more like… eleven…”

“Killian!”

“Stay right here.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said, her eyes widening.

“Don’t move a muscle,” he said, his smile charming, and booping her on the nose with his finger.

Emma watched helplessly as he slipped into the hall only to return two minutes later. “Where did you go?” she asked.

“To order a bath.”

“But…”

His eyes and smile turned very, very wicked. “For two.”

“It’s nearly seven, you know.”

“But I’m allowed to keep you until twelve.”

“Killian!”

He pulled her into his arms. “You want to stay.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, amusement written all over her face.

“You didn’t need to,” he countered. “If you truly objected, you would have found more to say than just ‘Killian!’”

She had to smile, because he was right.

“Am I right?” His grin was positively devilish and he looked utterly delighted with himself.

She didn’t say anything, but shot him a sideways smirk at his gloating.

“Mmhmmm,” he said. “I thought so.” He lifted her in his arms, carrying her towards the stairs and a steaming hot bath, for two.

As soon as Killian deposited her in the room, to her great surprise, he left. He never took his eyes off of her as he backed out, smiling gently at her just before shutting the door between them.

The steam from the tub caressed her skin as she undressed. She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose as she drew her dress over her head. Killian was right. It, and she, was rank.

The water was scented with oil she could just see floating on the surface of the water in between the bubbles. Lavender, one of her favorites. Emma dipped her toe into the fragrant, steaming water and the rest of her followed.

She sighed in pleasure as the water rose around her. It had only been two days, but the filth of the prison made it feel more like a year since she’d bathed. Waiting for Killian to join her, she leaned her head back against the rim of the tub, letting her long locks float in the water. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she tried to relax in the soothing water, but she was too anxious, too excited, too eager for the man she loved to join her. She shivered in anticipation, even with the deliciously warm water surrounding her.

She heard a click behind her. She lifted herself from her reclined position and turned. Killian stood just inside the closed door, wearing a maroon dressing gown, tied with a brighter red sash at his waist. His feet and legs were bare as he moved toward where her dress lay on the floor.

“I hope you don’t mind if I have this burned,” he commented. She smiled at him and shook her head. She knew he was directing his attention away from her at the moment to make her feel more at ease.

He moved toward her in the tub and she moved to make room for him. But instead of disrobing and joining her, he knelt there at the head of the tub.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

Killian shook his head as he picked up the cloth she hadn’t bothered with yet and dunked it in the water before rubbing the soap on it, generating a plentiful lather.

“Lean forward,” he commanded softly. She did, laying her forehead on her bent knees. She could barely contain her moan of pleasure as he began washing her back.

“I’ve dreamed of this for years,” he whispered. “All those nights, after the masquerade.” His words trailed away as he lifted her arm, running the cloth all the way down to her fingers, kissing each one after rubbing away the grime the night in the jail had left behind. Her other arm received the same tender ministrations. “Dunk your head so I can wash your hair.”

She did as he bade, rising quickly so Killian could rub the soap over her tresses, working it up into a thick lather. He ran his fingers through her hair, from her scalp all the way to the ends, gently tugging out the tangles.

“Ready to rinse.”

She dunked herself under the water, turning her head this way and that, before coming back up.

“You didn’t get it all out,” he said. “Stand up so I can get the remainder out and wash the rest of you.”

Emma caught her breath. Yes, she’d been intimate with this man, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment that came over her at the thought of standing before him, wet and naked.

Killian chuckled behind her. “You can stay facing that way, my love,” he assured her. “I won’t look as I finish up.”

Emma caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stood in the tub, her back still to Killian. He washed her bottom and then her legs, placing a tender kiss to the arch of each of her feet when he washed them. And when she turned to face him, true to his word, his eyes were tightly shut. Emma’s heart completely melted with love for this precious man.

He rose from where he knelt on the floor and proceeded to wash the front of her body, smirking slightly when she caught her breath as he washed her breasts. Still with his eyes closed, he bade her to turn around again. He knelt again, cupping his hands and filling them with water before rising and letting it pour over her head, rinsing her clean. He searched for the fluffy white towel to the side and, once he had it in his hands, held it open for her, eyes still closed. She stepped out of the tub and into his outstretched arms as he wrapped her in the softness of the towel and his embrace.

Killian opened his eyes and smiled before kissing her gently on the tip of her nose.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she whispered back.

“I should wait until we are actually married.” His eyes blazed blue fire and Emma could hardly breathe.

“I don’t want you to wait until we’re actually married.”

Her words made something break in him, and he could hold himself back no longer. He captured her lips with his own, his tongue requesting entrance she quickly granted. Tightening his arms around the woman he loved, the woman of his dreams, the woman he never thought he’d have, his lips left hers and began laying light teasing kisses down her jaw then her neck, to where it joined her shoulder.

“You’re going to marry me, aren’t you?” he asked in between kisses. “I didn’t exactly ask before.”

Emma’s head fell back granting him more access. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Killian,” she breathed.

“I would have married you no matter what,” he said, pulling back and staring into her eyes. “I’d already decided the ton could go to hell. I loved you, and if you would have me, I was going to marry you.”

Emma reached up and stroked his jaw. “Yes, I will have you, Killian. Till death do us part.”

Killian bent, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his bed in the next room. He laid her gently on the coverlet, his eyes never leaving hers.

“In my heart, you are my wife.” He climbed up on the bed, stretching out beside her. “After the wedding, it will be legal. Blessed by God and country. But, this night, it is true.”

Emma reached up and ran her fingers through the hair that flopped over his forehead. “And you are my husband.” She paused, completely overcome and felt the tears fill her eyes. One escaped the corner and slid down into her hairline. “I never thought I’d get to say that. I never thought…”

“I know, my love. I know,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a kiss so soft, so gentle, Emma didn’t just feel loved, she felt revered.

~*~*~

~*~*~

The towel and dressing gown were tossed haphazardly away and when they were skin to skin, twin sighs of contentment passed their lips, before they joined in a passionate kiss that celebrated the reunion of lovers against all odds. Two pairs of hands roamed, reacquainting themselves with their beloved.

“Emma, Emma, Emma.” The words were pressed into her skin, his lips and hands driving her higher and higher with every kiss, every stroke, every nibble.

She responded in kind, his name a whisper on her breath as she held him close to her heart. He positioned himself in the cradle of her thighs and pulled back from her just enough to look into her eyes. Love and happiness poured from his gaze and his laughter joined hers when Emma’s joy bubbled up in a delighted giggle.

“I love you, Emma,” he breathed once their mutual mirth faded away. His gaze held hers as he pushed inside her, slowly filling her. Emma caught her breath just before he captured her lips, his tongue stroking hers, lighting a fire in her that she hoped would never die away. This was heaven. This was completion. This was perfect. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers as he began to move. “I’m yours, Emma. To the end of the world or time.”

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured. He pumped a steady rhythm into her, ratcheting up her pleasure until she thought she’d burn to cinders in his arms. She clutched at his biceps as she met him stroke for stroke, chasing her own high, barely hearing the cries exchanged between them. White hot ecstasy suddenly burst inside her, sending tremors through all of her limbs down to her fingers and toes. Moments later he joined her in bliss, holding her tightly. She had never felt such love and adoration, such passion and euphoria as she did now, in his arms. She ran her fingers across the long lines of his back as they drifted on a sea of rapture and contentment. “I love you, too, Killian. And I am yours to the end of time.”

~*~*~

~*~*~

Several hours later, Emma shot upwards in the dark.

“Killian!” she gasped. “What time is it?”

Killian grunted beside her, so she grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

“Killian! KILLIAN!”

“I’m sleeping,” he mumbled.

“What time is it?”

“I’ve no clue.”

“I’m supposed to be back at your mother’s by seven.”

“Eleven,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Seven!”

Killian peeled one eye open. It looked like it took a great deal of effort. “You weren’t going to make it back there by seven when you decided to stay and take a bath.”

Emma blew out a rough exhale. “I know, but I didn’t think I’d be much past nine…”

Killian looked around the room. “I don’t think you’re going to make it.”

Emma spied the mantle clock and began to choke and sputter.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked, alarmed.

“It’s three in the morning!”

A slow grin spread on Killian’s face. “Might as well spend the night then.”

Emma rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Killian.”

“Oh, there we go again with the ‘Killian’.” His grin widened even more as he turned to her and gathered her in his arms. “You wouldn’t want to disturb the servants at this time of night, now would you? I’m sure they’re all quite asleep by now.”

“But…”

“Have mercy, woman,” he finally declared. “I’m marrying you next week.”

That got her attention. Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened almost comically. “Next week?!” she squeaked.

He tried to look serious, but her shocked expression was making it exceedingly difficult. “Well, it is best to take care of things like this quickly, you know.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he parroted.

“Yes, why?” Her confusion was adorable and Killian couldn’t resist kissing her on the end of her nose.

“Staving off gossip, you know…”

“Oh…” Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted enticingly. “Do you think Lady Whistledown will write about me?”

Killian rolled his eyes and released her, his hand covering his face as he lay back down on the bed. “God, I hope not,” he muttered. She emitted a little sound that had him uncovering his eyes and just catching the disappointment in her visage. “Well, I suppose she might,” he conceded. “Why on earth would you want to be in there in the first place?”

Emma shrugged. “I’ve read her column for years,” she admitted. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing my name in there.”

“You have very strange dreams,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Killian!”

“Oh, very well. Yes, I suppose Lady Whistledown will report our marriage, and Cora’s misfortune.” His grin turned diabolical at the mention of her stepmother and Emma couldn’t help giggling. “If not before the ceremony, then certainly very quickly thereafter. She’s diabolical that way.”

“I wish I knew who she was.”

“You and half of London.”

“Me and all of London, I’d imagine,” she countered. “I really should go,” she murmured. “Your mother is surely worried about me.”

Killian shrugged. “She knows where you are.”

“But won’t she think less of me?” she asked. There was a hint of uncertainty in her tone and Killian turned to her, surprised to see real dismay on her face. Looking at her now, he suddenly understood. Emma loved and respected Alice a tremendous amount and didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Of course not, Emma,” he soothed. “She knows where you are and what we’ve been through getting here. She’s going to give us both a bit of latitude considering we’re getting married in three days.”

“Three days?!” she squeaked again. “I thought you said next week!”

“Three days is next week,” he informed her.

Emma frowned. “Oh. You’re right.” The furrow in her brow smoothed as she looked at him. “Monday then?”

“Monday,” he affirmed with a satisfied smile.

“Imagine that,” she murmured. “I’ll be in Whistledown.”

Killian rose, propping himself up on one elbow, eyebrow raised. “Are you excited about marrying me?” he asked, “Or being in Whistledown?”

Emma smirked and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Actually,” he said, his brow furrowing in thought. “You’ve already been in Whistledown. Twice.”

Emma couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice if she tried. “I have? When?”

“After the masquerade,” he said. “Lady Whistledown reported that I’d been rather taken by a woman in blue. And she never could ascertain the woman’s identity.” He grinned delightedly. “It might be the only secret in London the blasted woman hasn’t uncovered. And then today. Er, yesterday. It’s how we found you.”

Emma’s smile turned smug. “That is very satisfying,” she observed. “To be the keeper of a secret that even Lady Whistledown couldn’t uncover.”

She turned to Killian again, whose smile had turned decidedly wicked. “I can think of other just as satisfying things, or even more satisfying things than that,” he said, gathering her close again, his eyebrows waggling seductively. He began kissing down the slope of her neck and Emma arched under him, granting him more access.

“I love you, Killian,” she breathed. “As long as we both shall live.”

“And I love you, Emma,” he replied. “To the end of the world and time.”

~*~*~

Dearest reader,

On this, a beautiful Monday in May, may I be the first to offer my most heartfelt congratulations to Killian Jones and his bride Miss Emma Swan, bastard daughter of the late Earl of Glowerhaven.

This is apparently the same young lady whom This Author reported on just this past week, who’d been arrested for allegedly stealing from the Countess of Glowerhaven, the young woman’s stepmother. Yes, ‘tis true, this young woman did once work for Lady Glowerhaven. After the late Earl’s death, the Countess had relegated Miss Swan to become a servant in her own household. This Author was as appalled and disgusted when this tidbit reached her ears, as I’m sure you all are. But out of all of this intrigue, there is a silver lining. Come to find out, the Countess herself was the one guilty of theft, in the form of the embezzlement of the now Mrs. Jones' dowry, left to her by her late father. As a result, the Countess now finds herself in the most unenviable of states. Transportation to Australia. And may This Author again be the first to offer a hearty huzzah to that! Australia can have her.

And now back to the nuptials of Killian Jones and Emma Swan. This Author has it on the best authority that it was a small and joyous ceremony. Or as small as it could be with all the Jones extended family in attendance, as well as the closest of family friends. This celebration has been a long time coming, since the young lovers had been separated for a period of two years. They originally met the night of the Jones masquerade ball, after which, if you Gentle Reader may remember, This Author reported Killian Jones being rather taken by a mysterious lady in blue. Unbeknownst to and undiscoverable by This Author then, due to the countess’ deplorable actions outlined above and never presenting her stepdaughter to society, I can now reveal that lady in blue, was none other than Miss Emma Swan.

May the newlyweds find every happiness, for they certainly deserve it.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

May 11

~*~*~

“How?!” Killian exclaimed. “HOW?!” he shouted, waving the offensive sheet in the air.

Emma couldn’t help her pleased smile as she watched her husband gesticulate wildly in his agitation. Yes, it was wonderful and more lovely than she’d ever dreamed to be married to Killian and an official part of the Jones family, but Cora’s exposure and having the support of Lady Whistledown was the icing on the cake. She couldn’t care less that her past had been revealed. The people closest to her already knew her story. And now, Killian wouldn’t have to give up his place in London society because of her and every door out there would be open for their future children. What more could the bastard daughter of a Earl ask for?

 The End

~*~*~

Thank you again for coming along on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!! Happy birthday, Hollye, even if it’s now 6wks later! I hope you love this half as much as I love you, cause that’ll be an awful lot! 😘

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Last night playing 2-4 with my friend excited to finally be doing Gundham's ftes. But I misremembered how many ftes you actually get in ch4. So we finished Nekomaru and did Gundham's first three and I was smiling to myself about finishing them and maybe starting Fuyuhiko's as Hajime went to bed and then the Crashing noise happened over night and felt my heart just sink. True fucking despair. I wanted to finish them again with her so badly.

We got to the trial but had to stop for the night. As we were leaving my friend was joking about giving me a redbull and I was like "yknow Gundham also likes the blue ram gift. We can give that to him during his next FTE" (coping) and she was like "So I assume Gundham isn't the blackened huh" and I just stared at her blankly for a second before saying "I want to finish his free time events so badly okay!!"

not coping well LMAO

[abubblingcandle]

Trick or Treat 💕

Thank you! I held off on this as I was hoping to finish the next Jamie Babysitter fic and I did so woop woop! Now however my brain is feeling very flitty. To the point I am considering a poll to see what people want to see to stop me writing like five words of a fic and then moving on.

So for this trick or treat you are going to get a few short snippets of sections I have written today while flitting

1 - Snap Ch4

“How’d you get so good and knowing what people are thinking coach?” Jamie asks Beard mid fiercely competitive game of Snakes and Ladders. “You have a tell Jamie when you are about to cheat. Your right eyebrow raises a little and you lick your top lip,” Beard shrugged. “That’s not really what I was asking but I guess … thanks?” Jamie frowns as Beard’s token climbs another ladder.

2 - untitled kidnapping fic

Eventually Jamie blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at his own bedroom ceiling. Maybe he did just get pissed last night. That would also explain why he was sprawled like a starfish on the floor. He slowly sat up with a groan pressing a hand to the back of his head where the pain was the worst. Going out drinking however wouldn’t explain why there was a large red stain on his floor and blood matted into the hair at the back of his head. “What the?” Jamie muttered, trying to get to his feet with shaking legs.

3 - A Treatment Room Doors Moment Ch2

“You know what would make all this bearable?” Corwin sighs. Roy had managed to get himself into the one vaguely comfortable position that he had found in the few days since his injury and Richmond’s relegation. That position was sprawled out on his corner settee with his knee boxed in by cushions and slightly elevated. Movement, less than fun right now. “A bottle of really nice scotch. You know that scotch that is on the top shelf or behind the counter to stop people stealing it,” Corwin continued to mutter as Roy finally got all the cushions in place. “You could just tell me to fuck off,” Roy grumbled. “Elder abuse wouldn’t it,” Corwin scoffed. “Well now I know you’ve been talking to Tartt. That’s got his prickish attitude written all over it you wanker,” Roy muttered back.

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (16/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU

This Chapter: Teen, ~5200 words

AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 |

“Is it all right if I bring a guest along to dinner?”

James shoots off the text to his mum while he waits for Rose to finish her shower. It had taken every ounce of strength and resistance to not join her, but he really does want to take Rose on a date, and knows that they’ll only fall back into her bed if he continues to be in her presence while they are both unclothed.

His phone chirps in his hand, pulling him out of his fantasy of a wet, soapy, naked Rose.

Of course. Which guest?

James smiles to himself and replies, “I thought you might like to meet Rose.”

A beat passes before his phone rings.

“You made up with Rose?!” his mother squawks when he answers. “Oh, that’s wonderful, darling!”

He’s beaming like an idiot. “Yeah, I chatted with her last weekend. Told her how I was feeling. She wanted some time to think, then invited me over last night to tell me she might be feeling the same way.”

He’s trying so hard to avoid the “l” word, since his mum is a hopeless romantic, but it’s nearly bursting out of him to say that he’s actually falling in love with Rose Tyler. Like… real love. Not lust. Not a pre-agreed-upon hook-up so he and his partner would each have someone to take to their respective publicity events. But something pure and good.

“We’ll come ‘round at 6,” he promises as he hears the water shut off. “Bye.”

He hurriedly dons his clothes from yesterday, itching to get home so he, too, can shower. He’s lacing up his Chucks when Rose steps into the bedroom, dressed in bootcut jeans and a long-sleeve London jack shirt, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

“Nice shirt,” he comments.

She flattens her hands down the garment and asks, “Is this all right? I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do today.”

“I don’t have a plan,” he admits, shrugging. “Let’s just… drive around for a bit. See what catches our fancy.”

She’s more than agreeable, and, minutes later, they’re in the backseat of his security agent’s car, being driven to his house. The agent, Zach, is perfectly respectful and asks no questions, but James can see his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror time and time again to catch glimpses of him and Rose.

The ever-present paparazzi are camped out at the end of his property line, and Zach inches past them (though James has a morbid desire for his driver to run them all over) to pull into the garage.

James thanks Zach, then dismisses him from duty, promising to call if he needs anything, before guiding Rose into his house. It feels so much colder than her homey little flat, and James is desperate to leave.

But first, a shower. He feels absolutely disgusting, in his old clothes from yesterday with the grimy texture of old sweat and sex covering his skin.

“Make yourself at home,” he tells Rose, kissing her softly.

He takes the stairs two at a time and can’t get out of his clothes fast enough the moment he steps into his bathroom. A thrill of delight courses through him when he catches sight of a dull red mark on his collarbone, courtesy of Rose’s mouth from their morning romp in the sheets. She’d been on top, kissing him so deeply he lost all sense of himself. When she began nibbling and sucking on his clavicle, he hadn’t wanted her to stop, too consumed by the sharp pleasure zipping through him.

The mark will fade by tomorrow, but for now, James brushes his fingertips along it, grinning like an idiot and replaying those delicious memories.

He makes quick work of showering, all while racking his brain on what he and Rose could do together. They’d had so much fun together at the Renaissance Faire, so perhaps they can do something outdoorsy. Autumn activities lend themselves to being outside, and he thinks the weather will cooperate.

He pulls on his favorite pair of skinny jeans and a cozy striped jumper before going back downstairs. Rose is on his couch, leafing through his battered copy of Good Omens, which he had begun rereading after seeing it in her book collection in her flat. She glances up when he steps into the living room, and hastily sets his book back on the coffee table, as though she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Did you start reading it?” he asks, jutting his chin to the novel.

“Yeah, a couple weeks ago. Didn’t get far though… haven’t been interested in reading lately.” She pushes to her feet and shoulders her jacket. “Ready to go?”

He rests his hand on the small of her back to guide her to his car, then they’re off on their adventure.

The first place they go is a drive-through coffee shop for breakfast and a sorely-needed cup of caffeine. Rose gets a chai latte, he gets plain coffee, and they share a selection of pastries.

“I was thinking we could go to a pumpkin patch,” James suggests through a mouthful of croissant. “I haven’t done any decorating, and Halloween’s this coming week. I always host a party. You’re welcome to come, if you want. My mates won’t take photos of us or anything, I swear.”

He would ensure that anyone who photographs him and Rose and sells it to the media find themselves banned from any future party he hosts. 

Rose grimaces, though, and says, “Sorry, I already have plans for Halloween night. My mate Shareen is havin’ a party ‘round hers, and I said I’d go.”

Even though his stomach sinks, he smiles. “That’s fine. Sounds like fun. It’s my fault for telling you about it so late.”

Rose nods, but remains silent; she instead goes back to picking off pieces of her Danish.

“Is it all right to go to a pumpkin patch?” he asks, realizing she’d said nothing about his suggestion. “We don’t have to.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Why does it suddenly feel like they’re awkward teenagers? Why is this thing with Rose so easy when they’re in the privacy of one of their homes, yet so much more complicated out in broad daylight?

James shovels the rest of his croissant into his mouth, wipes the crumbs off his fingers, then reaches over to rest his palm on Rose’s thigh. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She covers his hand with hers, letting her fingers slip into the perfect spaces between his.

“We’re a bit daft, aren’t we?” she says, stroking his pinkie with her thumb.

“A bit,” he agrees.

“It’s like… I dunno why I keep forgetting you’re famous.” Then she shakes her head. “No, not forgetting, that’s not the right word. But when it’s just us, it’s so easy to think of us as two normal people. Then I remember that everyone knows who you are, and I’m just… me. And it’s a bit intimidating.”

His chest aches, and he flips his hand beneath hers to properly hold it. He brings her hand to his lips for a series of kisses to her knuckles.

“I don’t want you to be intimidated by me,” he whispers into her skin.

“I’m not intimidated by you. But it is intimidating that the whole world knows my boyfriend, and sooner or later they’re going to know about me. I’m working on it; it’s just a lot to wrap my head around, y’know?”

He barely hears the rest of her words, too caught up in the fact that she called him her boyfriend. He is Rose Tyler’s boyfriend! Beaming, he kisses her knuckles again.

“Take as long as you need,” he says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And by the way, you’re not just you. I think you’re the most magnificent woman in the world.”

The smile that lights up her face is brighter than every star in the sky. They’re at a stop light, and so James indulges himself by leaning over to plant a kiss to that smile.

He doesn’t have a particular pumpkin patch in mind for their outing; typically, he purchases pumpkins from the giant cart that’s in front of the grocery store. He and Rose have settled into a calm and comfortable quiet for their drive, enjoying the autumn scenery as he leaves the city behind and heads west into the countryside. If he’s going to take Rose to his mum’s house, might as well make their date in that general direction as well.

Right when he’s about to pull over and get out of phone to look for a pumpkin patch they can visit, he spots a sign advertising a farm, where people can pick apples and pumpkins alike, as well as purchase a variety of jams and seasonal fruits and veggies.

“Wanna check it out?” he asks, gesturing to the sign.

Rose nods her agreement, and he turns off the main road.

They drive through a small town that is bustling with Saturday morning activity. People are wandering down streets, looking through windows into little shops, their arms laden down with shopping bags. It’s a quaint little town he’s never been to but has heard of.

There are more signs directing him to the farm, and he eventually reaches a tree-lined dirt road that announces itself as his final destination. He parks his car beside the dozens of other vehicles that are visiting the farm, and tries his best to not let his sudden panic get the better of him. He draws in a deep breath and glances over to Rose.

“Shall we?”

James grabs a cap and scarf from the back seat, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Rose sidles up to him and hooks her arm through his.

“All right?”

“I don’t want anyone to notice me,” he admits. “And, by extension, notice you. My mysterious blonde.”

He nearly spits those last two words; Rose merely gives him a sympathetic smile and kisses his cheek.

“If they do, we’ll deal with it,” she promises. “I don’t want to have to hide our relationship forever. Feeling like a secret… I don’t like… it makes me feel…” She trails off and shakes her head. “If losing my anonymity means I can go on a date with my boyfriend wherever and whenever I want, it’s worth it. You are worth it.”

His throat tightens, and he gathers her close, wrapping his arms around her and tucking his face into her neck. He breathes in her warm, soothing scent and takes a moment to quiet his mind, to tell himself that everything will be okay as long as he has Rose by his side.

“Thank you.” He pulls back and cradles her cheeks in his palms to angle her face up for an achingly sweet kiss that makes him forget about everything except for her.

When they break apart, James threads their fingers together and leads her into the farm, marveling at the broad swathes of green grass where sheep, cows, and pigs graze lazily. The pumpkin field is huge, with families and couples meandering around searching for their perfect pumpkin.

It’s a typical late October day, with thick, pearly clouds above them that threaten a soaking rain later in the day. But for now, it’s perfectly chilly with a breeze that gives James an excuse to keep Rose tucked into his side as they wander up and down the rows of pumpkin plants, inspecting each one with great care and precision.

James delights in holding them up to his own head and making gruesome or silly expressions for Rose, and asking if she approves of the face he’ll carve on the pumpkin. Every time she laughs at him, his body thrums with pleasure and joy, and he keeps trying to outdo himself, to get her to laugh longer or harder with each subsequent face he pulls.

“You’re ridiculous!” she wheezes when he pushes his lips back towards his gums to make a snarl, while also going cross-eyed.

He grins, dropping the silly face and setting his fifth pumpkin into the cart an attendant brought over.

“I do my best,” he says, winking and clicking his tongue at her.

She pauses for the barest of moments, then pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

“Do that face again,” she requests. “I promise I won’t post this anywhere. It’s just for me.”

“I know. I trust you.”

He doesn’t stop at the one face—he runs through every expression that had made her laugh the most, delighting in the telltale shutter click of her taking numerous photos. Her eyes dance and her face is beautifully pink from her full belly laughs, and, soon enough, he joins in too. He steps up to her, arms open, and hauls her off her feet, spinning her ‘round and ‘round while feeling like they are the only two people on the planet.

When he sets her down again, she cups the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss that they try to keep chaste. They only moderately succeed, as he angles his head to free up his nose so he can catch her lips over and over again.

I’m so in love with you.

He is aching to say the words, because God help him, he’s no longer falling in love—he’s in love. Deeply and wholly. Irrevocably. He’s been falling in love with her since their first unofficial date at Bad Wolf Brews, and his feelings have only strengthened with each moment he shares with her.

But he can’t come out and say it. Not yet. He doesn’t think she’s ready to hear it. After all, it took her almost a week to accept the idea that he might be falling in love with her. He doesn’t want to scare her off.

Baby steps. He can do baby steps.

“What’re you thinking about?” she murmurs, stroking the nape of his neck.

“How much I love being with you,” he says, and he kisses her one more time. “I’m glad we’re together.”

“Me too.”

They pull away from each other at the clearing of a throat. James’s heart begins to race and his palms sweat as he turns toward the person who wants his attention. But it’s not a starry-eyed fan; instead, it’s an elderly woman with a kind, open smile.

“You two are just adorable together,” she croons in an accent that is an interesting mix of American and French. “I thought you might like a photo of yourselves. A proper photo, not one of those selfies that young people are always taking. My granddaughter Libby is always asking me to take photographs of her and her girlfriend. I’ve gotten quite good, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, that’d be brilliant,” Rose answers. He’s grateful, because his mouth is too dry to properly respond. “Cheers.”

Rose hands the woman her phone, the camera app already open, then slings her arm around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. He comes to his senses and pulls her in close, relishing the solid warmth of her body next to his, and smiles softly at the camera.

“Want another pose?” the woman asks.

James shifts Rose to stand in front of him, and he wraps her in a tight hug from behind. She turns to look at him, and he kisses the tip of her nose before settling his chin on her shoulder.

“So precious!” the woman sighs, snapping their photo again. “If only cameras like this existed when I was your age. Imagine. A camera that fits in your pocket. I never would have believed you if you’d told me that forty years ago. Here you are, darling.”

The old woman hands the phone back to Rose.

“Thank you,” James says. “Seriously. Thank you.”

The woman waves him off. “Young love is a beautiful gift. Hold on to it as tightly as you can, and never ever forget a moment of it.”

A sad glint enters the woman’s eyes for a heartbeat, but she blinks and it’s gone, replaced by a warm albeit mischievous smile. “You seem very happy, James. Congratulations. Right. Toodle-oo.”

The breath has left his lungs, and he just stares at this old woman’s back as she hobbles off to a crowd of people. A small child rushes up to her, showing off a miniature pumpkin that fits in the palms of his hands. The woman doesn’t look back, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he’d hallucinated the last sixty seconds.

“Well. That was interesting,” Rose quips, infusing a bit of levity into the moment. “Got yourself some granny fans, do you?”

There’s a twinkle in her eye as she jabs an elbow into his ribs. However, she must sense that he’s still a bit stunned, because she softens and says, “It’s nice to know there’s some decent people left in the world.”

“Yeah,” he croaks. He glances down at her, and their cart of pumpkins. “Shall we carry on?”

They end up purchasing a total of ten pumpkins, which they carry to the boot of his car before wandering to the apple orchard. The attendant there gives them a basket and lets them know it’s £3.25 per kilo of apples, and goes through a wooden, rehearsed spiel about proper technique and etiquette when picking apples.

“Thank you, and have a nice day,” he finishes, before turning his attention to the next set of visitors looking to enter the orchard. “Hello and welcome to…”

“Bundle of laughs, that one,” Rose mutters under her breath as they walk, hand in hand, to rows upon rows of apple trees.

“Applesolutely unbelievapple,” he chimes in. 

She groans. “Oh, no you didn’t!”

He gasps theatrically, covering his heart as though wounded. “Rose Tyler! Do you not find my puns appeeling?”

“Applerently not,” she drawls.

He cackles, delighted, and grabs her hand before taking off running through the orchard. She shrieks, stumbling forward a few steps before catching her stride and matching his pace. He feels so free, like any other idiot in love as he sprints through the trees and past other patrons who glance briefly at them before going about their business.

James lets Rose pick most of the apples while he carries around the basket for her. They walk slowly, inspecting each tree and each fruit with care before adding it to their collection. He has no idea what to do with the two dozen apples they’ve picked, but he’s having too much fun to bring their morning to an end.

But end, it does. The same bored attendant checks them out and thanks them for visiting, looking for all the world that he wishes nobody would ever visit ever again.

“I applelaud your wonderful service today,” James says solemnly, snapping off a sharp salute. “Couldn’t’ve picked a better morning activity.”

The attendant merely blinks.

“Oof, tough crowd,” he mumbles. Louder, he adds, “Appleogies for taking up your time.”

He bows theatrically, then turns on his heel and guides Rose to the car. They only manage a few strides before Rose bends double, laughing so hard her face turns scarlet.

“Oh my God,” she manages, clutching her sides. “I don’t think that poor lad knew what you were even doing.”

“Well, his loss for not making the most of all the apple-based humor out there.” 

They wander around the farm for a little while longer, perusing the produce and selecting some seasonal fruits and vegetables. The boot of James’s car is full by the time they leave.

It’s just past noon, and they stop for lunch at a nearby chippy. Rose treats, and though it pains James to have anybody spend money on him, he doesn’t argue. He instead finds them a secluded table beneath a tree that is still clinging to the last of its crimson-orange leaves. His eyes dart around, making sure nobody is paying him any attention, but he seems to be in the clear.

Rose returns with two baskets of crispy fried fish and golden-brown chips. His stomach gurgles at the heavenly scent.

“And I got us a fizzy drink to share,” she says, setting down a large cup with a straw.

They dig in, not speaking much, but not feeling awkward about it. It’s comfortable, and James can’t help but play with her feet beneath the table, tapping the toe of his trainers against hers as they eat their lunch. She smiles into her food every time their feet touch.

With a few hours to go before he’s expected at his mum’s, James wracks his brain to figure out what else they can do to fill the time. They could arrive early, but James selfishly wants Rose to himself for a little while longer.

“Wanna drive around?” he asks lamely as they walk, hand in hand, back to his car. “Admire the scenery? Sight-see? Get a bit lost and see where we end up?”

She agrees, and moments later, they’re in his car and off into the unknown.

James only sort of knows where he is; he has driven to his mum’s house countless times, so he’s been out in this direction before, but he has never been on the roads he’s currently on. He takes the same route each time, so it feels like he’s somewhere brand new as he cruises down country roads with Rose’s fingers entwined through his.

Music plays quietly from the stereo system, and every now and then, he catches hints of Rose singing under her breath. He pretends not to notice, hoping that one day she’ll be comfortable and confident enough to sing in front of him without caring about his opinion. Not that he even has an opinion… as he’d told her, music and art and dancing are all meant to bring joy, no matter how good or bad a person is at it.

“If you could be famous for anything, what would it be for?” he blurts, wanting to hear her more of her voice, even if she isn’t singing.

She glances sidelong at him. “Dunno if I would ever want to be famous. I mean… you don’t seem to like it much.”

He winces. “It’s not all bad. I promise. For the most part, I really love it. But there are also some days I hate it. You’ve unfortunately caught me at a low point.”

She gives his fingers a squeeze and says, “Maybe an actress? I dunno, I’ve always admired how some people can make me feel so much just from their expression.”

“If you could travel anywhere at all in the world, where would it be?” he continues.

“I’m not allowed to ask you questions this time?” she drawls.

“Oh! Of course you can. Sorry, your turn. I forgot myself. I just want to know everything about you, and it’s so refreshing to not talk about myself for a change, but obviously I want you to know me too, so please ask me something or else I’m going to keep talking like this and I swear I turn into an idiot around you ‘cos I can’t seem to ever stop talking.”

Rose bursts into gales of laughter, which soothes the mortification that’s burning up his neck. He has always been long-winded, but never so much as when he’s with Rose.

She pulls her hand away from his to give him a round of applause. “I think you’ve just broken the record for the longest sentence without takin’ a breath.”

Sheepish, he grins. “It’s a problem I’ve got. I’m working on it. Quite poorly, honestly.”

“It’s endearing,” she promises, and she leans over to give him a peck on the cheek.

If he weren’t actively driving, he would have turned to return the kiss properly. But he is driving, so he does the responsible thing of keeping his eyes on the road.

“I’ll answer yours first. Is it daft to say America? I’ve never been before, and it’s just so… big. And the cultures are so different depending where you are.”

James makes a mental note to invite her to travel with him to America the next time he’s scheduled to visit.

“It’s an incredible country. We’ll have to go someday, you and I. And not to the big touristy areas. I mean, if you want to go to places like New York or Hollywood, we can. But there are so many more interesting cities to visit.”

“It’s a date,” she says.

This time as she leans over to kiss him, he’s pulling up to a stop light, so he turns and meets her head-on. Lips crash against teeth in a heated, searing snog that sends heat throbbing into his belly and between his legs. God, he wants to pull her closer, to thread his fingers through her hair, to hear and feel her moaning and…

“Light’s green,” she murmurs, pulling back with a wet pop.

“Sod the light.”

But a horn blares behind him, and he reluctantly returns his attention to driving and swapping questions and answers with Rose.

When it’s too dark to effectively admire the countryside, James programs his mother’s address into his satnav and sends her a warning text that they’ll be a little early to dinner.

I can’t wait to see your face, darling. And Rose’s too! Oh, I’m so excited!!!

He smiles to himself and listens to the artificial voice that guides him along unfamiliar country roads.

“Would you ever want to live somewhere like this?” Rose asks.

“There’s not exactly a recording studio out this way.”

“I mean, couldn’t you like… build one in your house or something?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I like the city,” he says simply. “I love how much there is to do, and while I hate the paparazzi, I love meeting new people as I’m out and about. I love finding new restaurants or pubs or shops, because cities like London are too big and ever-changing to know all of its secrets.”

However, he would be lying if he didn’t also admit that sometimes he wishes he could run away from it all and become a hermit for the rest of his life. But he knows those maudlin moods are temporary, and he would regret his solitude once the dark clouds dissipated.

“Don’t you get tired of the paparazzi practically living outside your house?”

He grimaces. “Of course. I wish I’d had a bit more foresight when I bought the house. It was something I bought early on, when I didn’t realize the entire world would one day know my name.”

“Why don’t you sell it and move?” she asks curiously.

“Dunno. A bit of stubbornness on my part, I guess. And it’s just… it’s home. I’m used to the paparazzi by now.”

She gives his hand a gentle squeeze and rubs her thumb along the back of his. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

He doesn’t argue further, because he’s had this conversation time and time again with his mother, and doesn’t particularly feel like having it with Rose.

“We’re nearly there, by the way,” he says instead, turning onto his mum’s street.

Rose goes still beside him, then her grip tightens. “Oh my God, I should have brought something. Wine. Dessert. Something. Are there shops nearby? I could bring her flowers. Does your mum like flowers? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this.”

His jaw slackens the longer she panics, until his brain catches up and he says, “Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to bring anything, I promise. My mum is excited to meet you. She’s not going to think you’re rude. She’s going to love you. I promise.”

“Do I look okay?” she asks, fussing with her hair and scrubbing a tissue under her eyes where her mascara has smudged a bit.

“You’re perfect,” he promises. He pulls off the road and puts his flashers on even though there are no other vehicles around. “Rose. Look at me.”

She does, and he leans over to cup her cheek.

“You’re perfect,” he repeats. He guides her face to his fore a quick kiss, then he rests his forehead on hers. “She wants to meet you, not a bottle of wine or a box of chocolates or anything.”

She will love you because I love you.

He ducks to give her another kiss. “Everything will be fine. I promise. But, er… my mum cooked. Not sure what exactly she cooked. But the thing is, she’s not exactly… a cook. Can you, er, pretend to like what she made? She tries really hard, and I’ve never had the heart to tell her she’s not that good at it. I mean, it’s all edible, and it’s fine. Just not very flavorful.”

Now it’s Rose’s turn to kiss him. She does so, very sweetly, and nuzzles her nose into his.

“I promise to lick my plate clean,” she vows, her tone dramatically serious that it pulls a giggle from him.

“Thank you. Right. C’mon.”

He pulls back onto the empty street and follows it to the very end. Two jack-o-lanterns sit on his mum’s porch, with orange fairy lights strung all around the front of the house.

“Here we are,” he says unnecessarily, killing the engine. “Home sweet home.”

James jumps out of his seat and races around to Rose’s side of the car in time to close her door for her. Tension is radiating from her every pore. He cradles her cheeks, angling her face up for a whisper soft kiss. In her shoes, he would be just as anxious as she is, but he hopes she’ll be able to pull some enjoyment from the evening.

She kisses him back, holding the nape of his neck to keep him close while her other hand fists into his jacket. He melts into her, sighing and deepening the kiss. She smiles into his lips but reciprocates with just as much reckless passion until they’re snogging lewdly against his car without a care in the world. Their mouths meet and part over and over again while their hips move restlessly. He’s growing hard in his jeans, and he has almost forgotten that he can’t exactly sneak away for a cheeky shag, when a gust of bitter wind cuts through them.

“Blimey,” Rose grumbles, shuddering.

He isn’t sure whether she’s reacting to the kiss or the cold, so he merely croaks, “Yeah.”

He takes a step away and rubs the back of his hand across his tingling, kiss-swollen lips.

“I want to keep kissing you,” she admits, even as she stuffs her hands into her pockets and hunches her shoulders against the wind.

“Later?” he asks hopefully.

She grins, then leans up to nip at his bottom lip. Sparks jolt through him, scrambling his senses while he lets out a helpless moan. God, he wants her to do that again. He wants her to kiss him and never ever stop.

“Later.”