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booppooo · 9 months

Text

play ball!

*warnings: basketballplayer!ellie, afab reader insert, oral (reader and Ellie receiving), fingering - very Toni inspired from The Wilds teehee, oui’d (trigger warning - science)

At first she was just your lab partner. You’d been sat next to each other by chance, in a class that had a very torn ‘fan base’ so to speak. Luckily, when Ellie grumbled, “Fuckin’ hate chem. Physics is the cooler science. Only reason why we got on the moon,” you knew this semester was going to be mildly more tolerable.

But some days you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tip-toe over the line between peers, friends, and a more intense third option. Some days it was strict - work on the lab, punch in the numbers, hand in the work to the professor. Other days, she’d crack a dad joke or two and watch you laugh. Then once in a while, you got the occasional lingering touch or gaze. Like one time, she needed to grab a ruler from the front of the class, and as she stood from her stool and slipped behind you, her palms fell to your shoulders and squeezed.

You could try to argue she was trying to build a friendship, something innocent and platonic. However…Ellie was a walking stereotype: short nails, insanely hot tattoos, carabiner hooked around her belt loop, the occasional lip bite when you giggled at her, and not to mention she was on the basketball team. Truly, all she was missing was the Nike headband and the high bun (which you were admittedly relieved she didn’t wear).

“Hey, let me ask you something,” she sat the marble at the top of the ramp you’d been working on for the better part of a week.

“Okay…” you mindlessly answered, readying the stopwatch on your phone.

She let the marble go and watched as it rolled down, not paying too much mind to Ellie studying you instead, “Do you want to come to my game this weekend?”

Color erupted in your cheeks. The marble rolled onto the floor and the stop watch ran beyond the time it needed to.

Ellie scoffed and left her seat to get the item rolling across the linoleum. Your eyes watched her every move as you formulated the right response. Hopefully the slight tremble in your hand wouldn’t give away your excitement.

“Yeah. When is it?” You swallowed, face ablaze.

Ellie threw the marble up in front of your face and caught it midair, clearly trying to pull a reaction from you, “Saturday at one. I want to see you in the stands.”

And see you in those fucking stands she did. You sat directly in the middle, removed from the families there to support their daughters darting across the court. You remembered Ellie briefly mentioning her adoptive dad a few times, so you scanned the seats to see who could be blessed enough to call her their child.

When the whistle from the middle of the court rang your eyes searched around for a familiar head of auburn hair. She had it tied half up half down, arms on full display and a hilariously serious look on her face. You knew that the basketball team wasn’t anything super special considering the football team got all the attention, and also the fact that you lost most of the games. According to Ellie, it was surprising you were even playing this far in the season. Regardless, the orange ball zipped around the court that was filled with shredded women squeaking their sneakers on the waxed floor. The sport was much more fast paced than you had anticipated. But the real excitement picked up when Ellie’s lengthy fingers finally got a chance at the ball. She was dribbling down the opposite end of the court, trying to get to a decent place where she could shoot or at least pass it to someone. Two players from the opposite team managed to get in front of her and block her. They had some inches on her, but surely that didn’t intimidate her. She was quickly looking for a way out.

“Shoot it Ellie! C’mom!” A man with salt and pepper hair shot from his seat. His voice boomed scarily - that must be her dad.

She flashed a look over her shoulder, smirked at him, then had just enough time to catch your spot in the stand. Thankfully she had kept her feet moving, swishing the ball through her legs and dodging possible steals. After briefly meeting your gaze, she got back to business, tricking the players out of her next move and running toward the net, completing a layup.

The man cheered for Ellie with his thick southern drawl, “That’s it! That’s my girl!” You couldn’t help but clap and cheer alongside everyone else.

As she sauntered back over to the other end of the court, she brought the end of her jersey to her brow to wipe away the sweat reflecting so deliciously from the lights - not before winking at you of course. You felt like a silly school girl when your knees pressed together. You couldn’t think of a single other thing you wanted to be doing this fine Saturday afternoon. Well…one thing of course that involved some of Ellie’s obviously skilled fingers.

Another play began and more squeaking sneakers filled the court. It was getting pretty intense, a constant back and forth for what felt like ages - supposedly the defense on both teams was excellent. Finally it seemed like someone was starting to give, unfortunately it was your schools team, because one of the players from the opposite team was desperately trying to make a shot but Ellie was just a little too good at playing defense. You were amazed at how quick she was. Sadly that wasn’t enough, because the player got by her to make the shot, but as they did you watched their elbow jab right into Ellie’s nose. In the same instant the ball went through the net, whistles were blown and people were running over to Ellie.

“That was on purpose!” Ellie’s dad spat angrily.

Through the small crowd around her you saw all the blood on her hand and even more trailing from her nose. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. As you watched her get ushered over to the rest of the team, you watched how Ellie’s stare fixated on the rotten player who had gotten her. When she saw her window, she took it, slipping out of the group and over to the player.

“Motherfucker!” A mixture of blood and spit splattered across the players face.

If people hadn’t stepped in sooner, a full blown fight would’ve broken out. Needless to say, Ellie was sat out for the rest of the game after seeing first aid.

“Let me look at that-“ you awkwardly watched Ellie’s dad hold her jaw and turn her face from side to side, “look at that goddamn bruise, she needs to be kicked off the team.” He rambled on.

“Dad, stop it-“ Ellie smacked away his hand, her eyes darting to you from behind him.

He studied her for a moment, before deciding his anger was getting him no where. He knew his daughter probably wanted to sit down and get some water, probably get a shower, too. He sighed, “Well, I’m glad you stuck up for yourself. Good work,” he brought her in for a hug and patted her on the back, “proud of you kiddo. Love you, see you soon.”

You tried your best to hold back an admirable giggle as he turned and passed by you, tilting his head and briefly greeting you with a, “Howdy.”

So you greeted Ellie with the same thing, smiling widely.

“Texas, my dad is from Texas - oh shut up.” Ellie shoved your shoulder playfully.

Now you got to see the bruising on her right eye, there was a bandage across the bridge of her pretty nose hiding the scratch. Thinking back on it, she was pretty hot to watch when she was angry. Now she had something to show for it, so every time you looked at her the scene would replay in your head.

You bit your lip shyly, “You’re uh, you’re alright.” You wished you had researched the sport a little more so you had something to actually talk about.

“Mm - really?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie ran her tongue across her teeth, “Well, I’m glad you think so. Maybe you can tell me just how alright I am tonight when I pick you up.”

How was she so clever? So quick?

Once again she had you fighting for words, “Sure, uhm…what time?”

“You have anything going on at eight?” You shook your head, “Now you do. I’ll see you then.”

Some of that southern charm must’ve rubbed off onto her over the years.

“Oh fuck! Ellie-“

Your fingers were deep in her hair not sure where else to grab in the backseat of her car. Between your moans, the faint music and the absolutely sinful squelching being born from Ellie being knuckle deep in you, it was hard to orient yourself at all. Her tongue sucked and danced on your clit like it was part of her daily routine - and thankfully she did because it had your limbs turning to jelly. Eventually your greed got the best of you because your hips began to grind back against her tongue.

“Shiiiit…”

You pushed her head closer to you, shamelessly using her mouth as a sex toy, because that’s what it essentially was. And she didn’t object either, moaning and panting into your cunt like she was the one with three fingers deep. Each roll of your hips pushed you closer to your climax, adding a whine or pout to your moans.

It seemed though, Ellie had different plans, because her free arm came down on your hips, holding you steady in place. As she pumped into you, her other fingers attacked your clit with a quick waving motion, sending stimulation to you at an almost ungodly pace.

Through your quickened breaths you swore, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck-!”

“Uh huh, c’mom give it to me.” Ellie purred, watching your cunt closely.

Your brain had omitted anything that wasn’t Ellie and your orgasm, leaving you to just moan out a warning that was your approaching orgasm. And she knew, especially when you started clamping down on her fingers, hips jolting, and the borderline scream coming from your lips.

“That’s it, cum on my fingers.”

You began to notice the way Ellie was able to get you do just about anything. She wasn’t big on asking, more on instructing. And you loved it. Especially when she hit you with:

“Okay, my turn.”

You weren’t given much time to come back to earth after the orgasm that just hit you, but the sound of Ellie’s zipper sobered you up pretty quick. As she shimmied off her jeans, you eyed her hips poking out, and the little copper happy trail leading below her black boxers. Drool was pooling under your tongue. She reached for the hem of her boxers, but you pushed her hands aside, taking it upon yourself to rip them down her legs yourself. Your palms must’ve been cold from the way goosebumps littered her thighs as your palms ran down the inners of them; or she was just that excited. She sucked in air through her teeth at the sensation of your lips exploring her hips, licking along her happy trail, feeling the muscle tighten beneath it. Ellie was really beginning to feel the heat building in thr backseat now. There was the undeniable scent of her car fresher, weed, and pussy. Bath and Body Works should take notes.

Starting with your fingers, you dipped into the warm wetness of her cunt and spread her slick, licking off what was left. You didn’t waste another second and let your tongue and lips latch onto her clit, making her moan lowly, leaving you to grumble one of your own. Testing the waters you paid attention to what made her moan and what didn’t, continuing to tease the idea of slipping in a finger or two to see how she would react. Every time your finger circled near her entrance she pushed closer to you and eventually let her fingers snaked into your hair. With you sucking on her clit, she welcomed your middle finger, and you enjoyed how she felt around you.

“Yes-!” She encouraged.

As you massaged her cunt, you marveled in the sounds that she made. You noticed she tried to put on a stoic front, but after you got in a second finger it seemed whatever face she was trying to put on dropped into something that was akin to a porn star. She seemed borderline primal and desperate, grinding down on your fingers and wanting you to get messy with your tongue.

“Faster babe..”

And when you obeyed, her head tilted back gloriously and she wasn’t afraid to let loose. She pushed into you as much as you pumped into her with your burning wrist and jaw. As much as your muscles were begging for relief and a break, your mind was taking snapshots of her manhandling your head and groaning with half-lidded eyes. Not to mention the sultry-ness of her voice:

“Just like that.”

“Right there babe.”

“Fuck - that feels good.”

If you could get those words on loop in your head forever you would. That - or the sensation of her beginning to tighten around your fingers and roll her hips harder onto your face.

She struggled to catch her breath and do you the decency of warning you: “Cumming, I’m cumming I’m cumming-!”

Her thighs squeezed on each side of your head and she took fistfuls of your hair. Her eyes squeezed closed, jaw dropping and a deeply satisfied, “Fuuuck,” rolling off her tongue. A new flavor of sweetness greeted your tastebuds and you caught yourself feverishly lapping at her like a fucking animal. And you would’ve until the sun came up, but Ellie began to whimper softly and squirm away from your advances.

So you let up, gently removing yourself from her and happily licking your fingers clean. She had one hand cradling the back of her head with her eyes closed, desperate to catch her breath. Under her breath she swore and ran her hands down her face to let herself know she was still human. Once your eyes met, you grew shy again, immediately taken aback by how sexily intimidating Ellie’s stare could be - even when she looked fucked out.

She took you gently by the jaw and led you toward her face to envelope you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You knew her goal was to taste herself, and you hoped she did, especially when she hummed as your tongues swirled. It was enough to have you pushing her back against the seats again…but you refrained. Pulling away from the kiss left you breathless.

Ellie looked into your eyes for a beat, “Wanna smoke?”

“With my lab partner? Sure.”

“Ouch.”

You both threw back on your pants and made your way into the front seats to spark up once more. How were you supposed to face her in class now?

#ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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satansamwriting · 1 year

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Mk characters reacting to their GN s/o wearing their hats

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Characters : Erron Black, Kung Lao, Raiden

I wrote this because whenever I play MK, I would always wonder what it would be like to wear the hats of those boys.

Mostly because of Kung Lao since I absolutely adore seeing him fight with his hat. It's so funny and cool and I really wanna try it.

Hopefully you'll enjoy those silly little Headcanons. I had a blast writing them. Oh and if you want, tell me in the comment which hat would you be tempted to try/steal the most out of the three? I'm curious :)

Also I discovered while writing those that I had a thing for throwing hats in the air. Don't know why, I just think it looks cool xD.

As usual disclaimer: English ain't my native language so there might be mistakes in this. I'm trying my best to correct them as I see them.

TW : mention of death, blood and decapitation in Erron story

Please enjoy 😊

Erron Black

Something that was established during the early days of your relationship was that Erron loves his hat.

No one is allowed to touch, wear or even go near his hat.

Will rarely take it off.

Would shoot anyone who dares take the hat.

Would take immense care of it.

You wondered what it would feel like to wear it but feared the wraith of your partner.

However, the hat is free real estate if you find it on the ground during battle and the cowboy is too far away from it and distracted.

Then you wouldn’t hesitate to put it on.

You would feel pretty badass with it.

Now entering shitty cowboy jokes mode

You'd try your best and fail miserably to do a cowboy accent.

Erron would never admit it but it would become his favourite thing, seeing you with his hat.

0o0o0o

Screams of agony and rage echoed around the arena. An uprising caused by some rebels not happy with Kotal Kahn being in power was taking place. The Kahn, having safely left the vicinity, entrusted his most brave and fearsome soldiers to fend off the remaining troublemakers. Aka, (Y/n) and Erron, accompanied by a small group of Outworld soldiers, stayed behind to clean the arena. The fight had proven to be somewhat more difficult then they had previously anticipated. Somewhere during the battle, someone managed to knock Erron's hat off. He wasn't bothered by it at the time as he was more focused on winning the kombat and staying alive. However, once his enemy was defeated, he quickly noticed the missing item.

Erron, slightly annoyed by this, scanned the arena but couldn’t find his hat. Not until his eyes landed on his partner.

They were further away from him, fighting against their own opponent. The dust flying around made it hard to see clearly but he knew from the shape of it that, resting on their head, was his hat.

To say that Erron found the sight of them punching a man while wearing the item incredibly hot, was an understatement.

As the rebellion died down, Erron allowed himself to be distracted by their fight. He watched from the sideline as (Y/n) grabbed the hat and threw it above them.

The action drew the attention of the man they were fighting against upwards, his eyes unconsciously following the hat trajectory. Taking the opportunity, they sliced the distracted man's head off. Blood splattered on their face but that didn't seem to bother them.

As the man lay dead, they caught the falling hat and in a smooth gesture placed it back on their head. In the distance, noises of spurs approaching made them turn to the side, tilting the hat toward Erron.

"Howdy partner"

Seeing the giant grin on (Y/n)'s face made the gunslinger's heart skip a beat. Splashes of blood covered their face but his hat had remained spotless. Even when fighting, they took great care not to let the hat get dirty. Behind them, the last rebel died, earning various cries of triumph from the soldiers of the Kahn all around. Erron kept staring at his partner, still not processing how gorgeous they were with his hat on. As they were about to remove the hat to return it to its original owner, a hand stopped them.

"Keep it"

Erron would never admit it out loud that he enjoyed seeing (Y/n) with the headwear. Besides, he had plenty of spared ones. One less wouldn't hurt.

“Much obliged darlin’ ”

Groaning with their attempt at sounding like a cowboy, Erron walked away. He could still hear (Y/n) laughing as they followed behind.

Kung Lao

0o0o0o00oo

You won’t see him without it

Unless it’s to shower or sleep

Takes great care of his hat since well it’s his weapon.

Would feel hesitant to let you touch it after he’s sharpened the edge.

You absolutely love to see him fight with it cuz you find him both attractive and badass while he does

You do express the desire to try it but never get around to trying it

Blame Raiden for always taking your boy out for training or missions

You happened to stumble upon the hat one day at the temple with Kung Lao nowhere to be seen.

You wouldn’t skip a beat before taking hold of the weapon and putting it on.

Liu Kang would find you later and the two of you would start training.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kung Lao leaned on one of the temple support beams, arms crossed over his chest. From afar, he watched as his partner blocked one of Liu Kang’s flaming fits with his hat.

Earlier that day, Kung Lao had been meditating peacefully with his trusted hat placed beside him, when one of the elderly monks came to him for help. Thinking it would only take a few minutes, Kung Lao had left his hat in its spot and followed the other monk.

The errant took longer than he had anticipated but was done fairly quickly nonetheless. However, once he came back to his meditation place, the hat was gone. Puzzled, he had searched the surrounding area to no avail. Sure, the shaolin monk could have summoned his weapon back to him no problem, but a small voice inside him told him to keep looking around.

He had been near the training ground when he heard the telltale sound of his hat hitting the ground. Because yes this man can recognize the sound of his weapon hitting things.

The sight that welcomed him inside the area almost made him laugh. He wasn’t surprised to see (Y/n) wearing his hat, since he knew fully well about their desire to try the weapon.

Quietly observing the friendly match, Kung Lao was rather impressed. (Y/n) seemed fairly comfortable with his weapon, even imitating some of his own moves flawlessly. A soft smile appeared on Kung Lao's face at the thought of them studying him carefully whenever they would come to watch him train.

Raiden stopped by after a while. Arms crossed behind his back, the Thunder God joined Kung Lao in observing the match.

The Shaolin monk felt a sense of proudness inside him. His partner was wielding his weapon and keeping up with the chosen one. The sight was truly beautiful.

Unaware of the two spectators in the back, (Y/n) had their full attention on Liu Kang, dodging his attacks one after the other.

Wanting to try something crazy, they threw the hat up in the air before sliding underneath Liu Kang's parted legs. Upon straightening up behind the chosen one, their foot connected with the falling hat. Liu Kang barely managed to avoid the weapon as it flew past him and lodge itself in the temple’s wall.

The man turned to face (Y/n), surprised yet amused by the event. There, on Liu Kang’s shoulder, was a small cut left by the hat as it went by him. Which only meant one thing.

“First person to leave a mark on the other is the winner, so this means I won” They exclaimed with a giant smile on their face.

At that moment, Kung Lao made his presence known by clapping. Summoning his hat back to him, he walked toward his partner, Raiden not far behind. Fondness in his eyes, he picked them up and kissed their forehead as a reward.

" You were amazing!"

Lets just say that from then on, Kung Lao would let (Y/n) train with his hat just so he could enjoy watching them kick ass with it.

Raiden

0o0o0o0o

It's more of a fashion accessory than a necessity

Like Erron and Kung Lao, he would rarely remove it tho

Heck, you don’t even think you’ve seen Raiden’s hair once in the long time you’ve known him.

But if you had to guess, they would be white like his brother.

Or he was simply bald.

The idea of stealing the God's hat did pop up in your head more than once

But the thought of pissing off a God for stealing his shit didn’t sound good in your mind.

So you left it to that.

Raiden would sometimes catch you glancing up at his hat and wondered about the meaning of this.

You'd pretty much given up about the hat.

Until the day the hat literally landed in your hand.

It was a particularly windy day at the temple. As (Y/n) roamed around the place without anything better to do, they sighted something strange flying in the wind. Curious about the object, (Y/n) followed it until it was low enough for them to grab it.

Upon closer inspection, the object revealed itself to be a hat. A hat that they knew very well. But the God of Thunder was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry little hat, I’ll bring you back to your owner”

Putting the hat on their head, (Y/n) went on a quest to find Lord Raiden and return the lost item. At least, that’s what they had in mind at first. However, they found themselves quickly distracted from the task as they wandered around the temple.

Somewhere during their search, a monk approached them asking for help to move stuff from one place to another. Being the kindred heart that they were, (Y/n) agreed to help the monk. After a while, they were finally done with the task and went back to their search, the monk thanking them as they left.

This went on and off during the day, with monks asking for help or errants and (Y/n) agreeing. To a point where they had completely forgotten about the hat sitting on their head.

Evening rolled around eventually. Exhausted from their day, (Y/n) found themselves sitting in an isolated part of the temple while nursing a cup of green tea. The wind had settled into a nice breeze which gently brushed against them.

“Good evening (Y/n)”

Looking to the side, their eyes fell on a rare sight. Approaching them was Lord Raiden.There was an air of calmness around the God as he came to an alt next to them. Hands behind his back, he titled his head slightly, making a few strands of hair come loose from the quickly made ponytail. (Y/n) stared, feeling their heartbeat quicken. They could see Raiden's hair and as they had guessed, his hair was indeed white but shorter than they had thought it would be.

Noticing their lack of response, (Y/n) cleared their throat as a way to hide their embarrassment from staring a bit too long. Carefully placing the cup to the side, they stood.

“Thunderbolt, I was looking for you earlier! But it appeared that I got sidetracked and forgot about it.”

Seeing their partner had reminded them of their initial quest.

“ I appeared to have found your hat and wished to return it to you.”

(Y/n) gently took off the item and handed it to Raiden. They had grown somewhat accustomed to the weight of the hat over the hours. So much so that, now with the item gone, they felt weirdly naked.

“It would seem you have taken a liking to it. It suits you well.”

Taking the offered hat in his hand, Raiden thanked his partner for keeping the object safe until it was returned to him. However, the God seemed to hesitate for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the helm of the hat.

"Perhaps you should keep an eye on it for a little longer."

Raiden lifted the hat and gently placed it back upon (Y/n) head. Satisfied, the God of Thunder walked away. Raiden would later deny it to his brother that the mere sight of them wearing his hat made his heart beat faster.

Standing there, the tea long forgotten, (Y/n) watched as Raiden turned the corner. Did he just flirted with them? Touching the hat as if to make sure this wasn't all a dream, they laughed. Who were they to refuse a gift from a God.

//////

Later that night, they would force Raiden to lay down, his head on their laps, so they could marvel and play with his hair.

#mk10 #mk11 #mk9 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk x gn reader #mk #mk fandom #raiden #mk raiden #raiden x gn reader #kung lao #mk kung lao #mk erron black #erron black #erron black x gn reader #kung lao x gn reader

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larcenywrites · 2 years

Text

Temptations

Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: When Tony singles you out at one of his many parties, he doesn't mind that you have a ring on your finger. The question is: do you?

Warnings: 18+ | heavy petting | infidelity/cheating | feminine reader? idk you wear a dress

Word Count: 1.5K

When your husband dragged you out here for work, the last thing you expected was to end up being dragged out to some party or event hosted by Tony Stark himself. And then subsequently left alone after a passive-aggressive whisper-fight when he wanted to go off with the few people he knew from work when you didn't know anyone. And from the looks of it, you weren't sure if you cared to know anyone.

That is, until someone unexpected caught your eye, or maybe you were only seeing him because you had caught his. It was the devil himself, and now technically your husband's boss. That interested stare from across the room had you feeling like a deer in headlights, weak legs and all. You pretended too late not to notice, attempting to go about your business that you never had in the first place. He took it has his opportunity, swooping in on unattended prey.

"I don't think we've ever met," a voice that could only belong to one person right now chased after you. A hand carefully cupped your elbow, drawing your attention to the man behind you. You quickly got lost in that too-polite smile, and for all the sin that you knew hid behind those innocent eyes, there wasn't even a trace.

"No, but I've heard a lot about you," you teasingly warned, shyly looking down for a moment to try and chase away your already nasty thoughts, hopefully with him in tow. His touch drifting its way to your hand didn't help.

"Nothing good, I hope," he retorted playfully, not so subtly tilting your hand and glancing at the ring around your finger. There was no apprehension in those eyes when they looked back at you. If anything, they held a new anticipation that had him holding his head a little higher. There was a power in his confidence that was hard to ignore. One that knew he could take what wasn't his. "Haven't seen you around," Tony started, eyes shamelessly drifting over you as if to prove a point. "It's usually the same crowd."

Maybe it was just code for: I've already slept with everyone here and now it's boring! And you were the perfect candidate. It should have been an alarm bell, but you'd ignored all of the others thus far.

"I just moved here." Even after trying your best to keep your stare in check, you couldn't fight the urge to give him a once-over. And maybe a second, just to take note of the glass of whiskey in his hand and the fingers curled around it. "My husband came out here to work for you, actually," you informed him, knowing he wouldn't have any idea or care who worked under him anyway, and that word had just as little effect on him as your wedding band.

"Oh, you mean the guy that just left you alone at a party?" He ignored the topic you were pushing and steered toward what he did care about with a sarcastic bite under his tone, dark eyes waiting for your reaction and bringing his glass to his lips. You were a bit taken aback.

"You don't have to make it sound like such a bad thing," you reasoned with a smile, keeping your tone lighthearted.

"Is it a bad thing?" He feigned innocent curiosity, but you both already knew his intentions. You thought about the question. It was an invitation to something far more tempting- he would make sure it wasn't a bad thing. You just had to give in to those eyes that were already undressing you and thumb rubbing circles into the top of your hand when they could be doing so somewhere else.

"It doesn't have to be," you said lowly. It must have been the right answer because that polite grin now smirked down at you—the type of grin that found satisfaction in getting up to no good. "Let me get you a drink."

"If you can behave," you joked, letting the hand cuffed around your wrist lead you along. He turned to you with a challenge gleaming in his eyes. "Can you?"

Neither of you behaved.

You lifted yourself onto the cold marble of the bathroom counter when he caged you into it, your legs instantly parting to give him room. You barely even got a good look at him in the dim lighting before lips crashed onto yours. It was a mutually and instantly rough connection, with a bourbon-flavored tongue licking into your mouth and heads tilting almost infuriatingly to find the angle that would have you drowning in him. The hand palming up your back and tangling into your hair only helped that goal.

One long press against your lips and he harshly pulled at your hair, forcing your head back with a whimperish moan and diving into your neck. You regretted that you weren't his to mark up. He generously avoided any conspicuous evidence of your current infidelity with wet open-mouthed kisses and barely grazing teeth. But as disappointing as it was, the hot tongue on your pulse and soft lips working at your jaw were still more than welcome to continue.

Your short dress was definitely a blessing for him, easily able to feel up your thighs and press himself between your legs. You flinched at the quick nip below your ear that just couldn't keep holding back and melted at the hot breath making its way across your cheek. It teased at the corner of your mouth, but cruelly drifted away when you turned to meet him. The grip you had on his suit was now tugging at him, begging him closer again with your lips still parted and pleadingly looking up at him. The apprehension that should have been there earlier gazed back.

But thankfully before either of you could get your thoughts straight, lips finally crashed back to yours, and a hand gripped your jaw to keep you from escaping in case you'd thought about it. You didn't have time to think anyway. You didn't even think about it before you were suddenly working at his belt buckle, almost expertly undoing it alongside that pesky button and zipper. You barely brought his pants down his hips, just enough to have better access to his thick length straining to find the extra room in boxers that were now far too tight. You palmed at him, his grunt shooting straight to your core and curling two fingers around what you could, semi-stroking his clothed erection with your thumb and forefinger. His fingers dug into your thigh, feeling a smug excitement at seeing that flash of gold on the hand desperate to get him off.

You couldn't keep it up for much longer, eager to have him fully in your hand and feel him inside you. But he caught your wrist as soon as your fingers found the band of his briefs, thumb digging uncomfortably into the center of your palm. You quickly looked up at him, worried you'd done something wrong. His expression was unreadable, but hungry eyes lingered over the space between your thighs that was still barely covered by your dress. There was a short sigh when he looked back up. "You have someone else to go home with." Those sharp eyes searched yours as if deciding what to do with you. The words shattered something. He'd nearly made you forget. You weren't sure why he was suddenly taking the moral high ground, perhaps rethinking the thrill of getting caught. You didn't have the strength to even care about scolding yourself about it.

He made up his mind when he finally let go of your wrist, instead reaching into his jacket and taking out a business card and pen he'd been hiding. You instinctively lifted your chin up when he pressed it to the space below your collarbones, gently scribbling his personal number (or maybe even a burner). You doubted he cared enough to carry those around other than for convenience in a situation like this.

"You should call me sometime," he casually suggested, never breaking eye contact when he lifted your dress. There was barely a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips when he pulled at the top of your panties, carefully sliding that card in and letting the lace snap back against you.

He gave your wide-eyed stare a wink before stepping back. Neither of you said another word as he pulled his pants back up; the way he pulled and fastened his belt was almost tortuous, locking you out. He spared you one last glance before checking himself over and leaving you still sitting on that cold marble counter in your hot and bothered daze. You were almost envious of how easily he could keep his cool, going back out as if nothing had happened. He was giving you a way out of whatever he was inviting you into, but let's be honest: you both knew you couldn't leave after being pulled in so hard.

#tony stark #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #iron man drabble #iron man imagine #tony stark smut #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #iron man #marvel headcanons #marvel x reader #marvel

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preciadosbass · 2 months

Text

3/8/24

woke up at 10 to my dad shaking me, he seemed in so much more of a better mood than the past few days, which is good. i told him about the frank, mikey and gerard sightings [even though i’d already told him about gerards] and we joked for a bit. i don’t really remember what about but it made me feel good. i had my breakfast while showing him a few tiktok’s related to bands i like and stuff. not to mention i obviously cuddled boris the second i saw him. also, saw the RAY TORO PHOTO AAA HES ALIVE

after fussing boris some more i went back to sleep at 11:50 because i felt like my eyes were forcefully being pryed open.. took a while to actually get to sleep because of how hot it is. i eventually did and woke up 2ish. my mum and sister had already left to go out as my sister found out one of her online friends she games with lives close to us. i watched my dad play roblox again and he kept on blaming me whenever he died in natural disasters lmaoo — he played two more games before we went out for a walk to pick blackberries at around 4.

most of the ones i picked i didn’t end up keeping because i’m very particular and i cant eat them if they’re the slightest bit squishy/if the separate berry things that make them up are too big. its really weird. anyway, we’re both terrible at making conversation so we just tended to point out things around us, if that makes sense. like, ‘those ones don’t look ripe’. we were out for 30/40 minutes and when i got back home i cuddled boris. he seems off today, like the weather isn’t too bad and he hasn’t gone out from my knowledge, and he doesn’t seem content when i stroke him. i’m worried about him.

i continued watching a gerard video id started watching yesterday and went out to see boris. my parents were in the kitchen at the same time and i mentioned him seeming off but they said he went outside when i had my nap so that’s reassuring. i didn’t stay out there for long because he wanted to come back in. when i did come in i watched my dad play natural disaster again and had something to eat because just moving my head was making my vision cut out. afterwards i checked on boris and scrolled on mcrblr.

i did ask my mum if we could go on a walk but she said no so i’m still really anxious as i won’t be able to burn off what i’ve eaten. exercising at home just dosent cut it for me. i always get caught and become unmotivated so fast. it’s understandable that she did refuse though, she barely ever does, and she’s been up someone else house all day feeling awkward. i also asked quite late considering how fast it gets dark.

i carried on doing my own thing [looking at various band related posts] up until about 9, nearly ten, when i went upstairs to talk to my dad while waiting for my sister to get to sleep so i could ask the questions about boris. my mum said yesterday that maybe i should include my sister in my routine and ask her a couple questions, so after dad watched me play natural disaster for a while as we waited, i went into her room as i knew she was still awake and did exactly that. she’s almost always really understanding about the whole compulsion thing, although i knows she dosent actually get it because i dont myself, and it’s my issue.

i eventually asked my parents the questions which took longer than i’d anticipated because of how different i think boris has been acting today. cutting the questions down and making them easier to go through makes my compulsions so much worse and sends me into utter panic but i tried my best not to drag it on, although i did. i just love boris so much. after that i went downstairs, had some icy water, brushed my teeth and said goodnight to boris. i brought his food to him so i could make sure he’s eaten and told him in advance about me being out practically the whole day tomorrow.

i hate being away from him, it makes me feel so guilty. plus, being with him just makes me feel so comforted, and hopefully it does the same for him too. i think it might do because for example, our dog is very noisy and he [boris] seems to be calmer when the dog barks if someone’s stroking him. which is another reason why i don’t like being away, i don’t like him being scared, or for him to be feeling anything bad in general. he knows he’s the boss of the dog though, which is good because of their size difference. i went to sleep early at 1:36 because i have to wake up somewhat early in the morning. i feel bad about barely doing anything at all today, but at least ill be productive tomorrow.

have a good day/night -_<

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

Mermaids exist in stardew, yes? So imagine a mermaid farmer for Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc it could be in Yandere setting or not. I just wanna know their reaction when they found out and how it’ll effect their relationship. Will it brew angst, love, or both

Part of your world [Genshin x Mermaid!Reader]{Stardew Impact series}

Synopsis: You came from the sea and he takes you through a journey of what it was like to live on land despite your differences.

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli

"I threw in Childe because I had an idea for him xD It's fluff month so everything is going to be happy from now on >.>"

=============================

{Diluc}

It was a hot summer day when Diluc first found you lying unconscious ashore. You had just swam far and wide from the ocean world, the climate deemed unideal for your case. With no one else around, he took the initiative to help you out of your situation.

He shortly found out by the slight appearances of scales gracing your legs that you were neither a human or someone coming from the town nearby. As legendary as mermaids are, Diluc wanted nothing to do with you. His beginning plan was to find your relatives and send you out of his house (Additional work isn’t welcomed when he has so much already). However, you latched onto him pretty quickly since he was the one who saved you.

Here stands a human, a creature that you always wanted to interact with, in your perspective he may look a little stern but he must have plenty of knowledge to offer based on all the antiques he owns.

The only problem was that you two had no way to communicate. Different worlds meant different languages. Whenever Diluc told you that you couldn’t stay, all you did was tilt your head and whenever you tried expressing what you wanted to say, well, normally bubbles would come out of your mouth since they were an indication for your words.

He gave up on trying to kick you out and simply allowed you to take residence as long as you stayed out of his workaholic life. You would tend to his farm while he was absent on other matters and feeding animals in the barn (a lot to do but a win-win situation now that you were able to discover what it was like to live on land at the same time). Though you were also a handful, most of the time Diluc had to excuse himself from his desk when you thought the rake was some sort of hair brush and he forbade you from using the bulldozer. Quite honestly you caused him a lot of stress. He spent most of his hours teaching you and before he knew, it was already a habit of his.

The only words you knew were three words. If you wanted to eat you would say ‘fish’. If you were thirsty, you would say ‘water’. If it was anything else, you would say ‘Diluc.’

He allows you to take long baths since he knows how hydrated mermaids must stay at all times. Orders a pool to be built in his front yard (at least this way helps him save his costly electricity bills). Diluc also borrows books from the library museum for you to read, anything that you would find interesting, (mostly they were about alphabets and picture-based stories (it felt like he was raising a child).)

Easily gets worried when you step into town with him, he keeps a watchful eye in case you collapse and extra bottles when you need a drink. Most of the time, he had to keep an eye on you since you had the natural instinct to waltz into whatever interested you, such as dancing in annual festivities (which you dragged him along of course). It was how he grew attached to your presence because you truly knew how to appreciate the world around you when he himself was too busy to do so.

Two worlds merged and he was learning how to live in yours too, how you perceive things. Building sandcastles, collecting seashells, listening to the echoes resounding within them. Activities he thought were unnecessary suddenly gained the meaning he had lost long ago. Diluc grew too fast at maximum speed, trying to get as many things done as he could, until he was pulled back by the emotional waves of your kindness and compassion, onto the shore he failed to live on. How ironic reality can be.

{Childe}

Everyone knew how much Childe loved to fish. He sets out at sea every evening to capture a batch of flounders, hopefully stumbling upon a legendary one.

In a way, he did. Just not what he expected. What he pulled out of the waters seemed to be a human-sized fish sitting upon the other residues caught in between. ‘A mermaid…?’ he thought, still digesting the fact in front of him. (No wonder the net felt so heavy).

At the same time he wanted to take you with and sell you for a good price but knew how mad Tonia would get when she found out. So he lets you go free. The thing is, you swam behind his boat and followed him back to land. This was how your relationship with Childe started, to this day he continues to jest upon that memory.

Tonia took most of the responsibility to coach you about human life. One of them was table etiquette, before you ate with only your hands which caused a mess. Childe would laugh hysterically at it until Tonia reminded him, “This is also what happens when you use chopsticks, big brother.”

Teucer invites you to basically anything since you have so much patience. Childe shortly realizes that he was soon going to be replaced as the eldest caretaker and you couldn’t even talk at that time. So it was only fair that he included himself in the circle while interacting with your way of communicating: sign language (Surprisingly, he was naturally good at it. Though his movements are rather exaggerated and...ungraceful).

You were nice enough to accompany him to his fishing tasks and soon enough became your daily activities. Childe takes the lead as you follow him from the side, sometimes he lets go of the steering wheel and allows you to push the boat instead (he kept a note to himself that in your mermaid mode, your strength multiplied by a large number). Other times he felt a little risky and decided to jump in the ocean with you for a swimming session. It worried you immensely but your anxiety subsided when you saw how much fun he was having and for the rest of the time, you both explored what the ocean had to offer.

Childe used to be a fish-cook enthusiast. Not anymore (since that day you cried when glancing at the flounder dish he placed on the table). He had to stick to seaweed or any other plant-based meals with a little bit of meat but too much would cause your stomach to churn. Since his siblings complained at the sudden change, he had to make a separate meal plan for them. With a mermaid in the house was certainly high-maintenance indeed.

Cuddling with you in front of the cracking fire blazing under the chimney was one of the calmest moments indulged himself in. He often chooses the life where the waves crash constantly, anticipating a thrilling storm that comes ahead. But you were just a lull at the sea, the mediator he needed in times where his siblings needed a mother-figure. Sometimes he fears that you would leave him and return to where your true family lives but he was grateful that you chose him above all else. He was grateful that by chance, he captured you at sea. One thing he loved about life was the unpredictability the future brings, including the blessings. Even if you were a creature from far away, in your presence he felt like he was truly at home.

{Kaeya}

When the tides rose above his head, Kaeya was sure that he was done for. The surfboard he recently stood upon slips off beneath his feet and he falls into the ocean’s merciless waves. No oxygen, no time to catch his breath amidst the impact, his eyes were slowly closing and the last thing he saw was the sun’s light beyond the heavy surface, along with the murky visual of someone swimming in front of it.

Although he almost drowned, the idea of being saved by a pretty mermaid makes up for the fact (He has a natural tendency to flirt at anything eye-catching even if you were an outlandish being). You on the other hand was confused by his advances as you couldn’t understand a word he was saying, hence you swam away.

Those beginning days when you chose to explore the land, Kaeya remembers how much trouble you had with walking using your new legs. He had to hold both your hands while leading you forward, he found it rather cute when you tighten your grip the moment you felt that he was going to let go (he was only bluffing of course but you still hissed at him). Still, Kaeya ensures that you don’t fall to the ground, he catches you in time when you collapse while laughing, “You’re doing great sweetheart.”

In return you teach him how to read the ocean’s movements so that he won’t drown again. Kaeya spends more time around the beach since he knows that the water bodies are where you were most comfortable with. He tells you that you always smell like saltwater whenever he buries his face in your hair, perhaps that was how he grew attached to the ocean as well.

In summer seasons there were several days where you had to sleep in his bathtub because the air was so dry. As a mermaid, he had to tolerate many of your unique quirks, in this case he had to deal with showering in cold water since you took up all the electricity. Another case was your wine tolerance, no one could challenge you to a drinking contest when your body could sustain large amounts of liquids. Kaeya sometimes jokes if you could turn him into a merman like those in fairytale books so he can have the same experience. You take it as a joke while he was also being half-serious.

When you have to take a temporary trip home, Kaeya visits the dock every evening and waits for you to come back, trying to see any signs of your colourful tail. He glances at the ocean he grew to love, knowing where he stood is as far as he could go and anywhere beyond the boundary was out of his reach. So many people left him in his life and even though he knew you wouldn’t do the same, he still worries. Uncertain if you would abandon him too.

Your existence became the center of his life the moment you chose to walk upon land with him. Side by side, through small hurdles the seashore and hurdles as big as the wave that almost killed him the day he met you, Kaeya keeps them all as if they were the most precious treasure a pirate could find. It didn’t matter if you were different from everyone else because despite your tail, all he could see was you.

{Zhongli}

While Zhongli strolls along the sandy beach, he follows the alluring sound of your singing voice. You sat upon the rock while humming along what seems to be an old folk tune, similar to what Guizhong once sang. The man folds his arms and closes his eyes. Many years have passed since he last heard something like this, “Your voice, it’s very lovely.”

He was a geologist who worked by the museum, collecting different types of rocks and seashells that would wash up shore. You became very familiar with his daily routine that before he pays a visit to the beach again, a pile of interesting rocks would be waiting for him by the docks. It was a gift. And Zhongli would bring snacks like seaweed soup as an accommodation for your kindness.

Unlike Kaeya, when you couldn’t walk because your legs were too weak to be used, Zhongli helps you with every step along the way even if the trip was a slow one. He even offered to have you carried when he saw you were having too much trouble but you insisted on trying. The whole trip that usually took ten minutes was a three hour walk.

Even though he knew many things, your language was not one of them. However he was willing to learn. Both of you have study sessions regarding each other’s culture. For you it’s the way humans drink with cups because of Zhongli being a tea fanatic himself, he even showed you how to hold a tea cup properly. You taught him how to swim since he had been so occupied on land that swimming never crossed his mind. Thankfully he was naturally good at it due to his tall stature (albeit a little scared when diving into an environment unknown and different to him).

Zhongli loves the way you sing and he would ask every time he wanted to read a book. Either under the tree on a warm spring day or on the couch when it was storming outside. Although he intended to get some reading done, Zhongli can’t help but fall asleep. You didn’t want to wake him up (and you could carry him if you wanted to thanks to your mega-mermaid strength) so by morning, you’d find yourselves in the same spot and your lap feeling numb.

Earth and sea were separated for a reason so that the creatures may stay upon the place where they belong. That wasn’t enough to separate you from him though. Zhongli would travel to the sea to see you and you mustered the courage to walk upon the hard surface of land. The two were only parts of the world but together they are part of the world, connected to form a whole new life.

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chokemewanda · 3 years

Text

Date

Natasha Romanoff x m!reader

Masterlist

Warning: swearing(?), sexism I suppose, clueless men.

This is a male insert reader which is something new I’m trying. I want to know how you’d like to see y/n so you can really insert yourself. This is for @bonkie-barnes who said they would like to see m!reader

Five times someone asked the Black Widow on a date and one time someone asked Natasha Romanoff on a date.

“It’s not going to work.” You shot Matt down instantly when he began to tell you his plan. You only had to hear the words ‘okay, so The Widow’ before you were shaking your head.

He looked up from where he was signing his name with a flourish at the end of his mission report and frowned at you.

“What? How the hell would you know that?” He asked incredulously. “We’d be a power couple, together we’d have the record for most successful missions.”

“She holds that record on her own.” You reminded him and he rolled his eyes, punching your arm like you were being dense just to annoy him. He dropped his paper work into the basket on your desk and then folded his arms.

“I’m second.” No he wasn’t. He was just listening to the majority of the other assholes you all worked with and excluding certain people based on their past.

“Bucky Barnes is second, you just won’t count him because you’re an asshole.” You reminded him, signing off on the paperwork you had been reading and then lifted his mission report. “Also you keep spelling Kiribati wrong.”

Just to piss him off you circled it in red and handed it back, knowing he’d have to rewrite the whole thing.

“The Soldat has to equal the amount of missions he ran for Hydra before any of his shield ones begin to count.” Matt scoffed, snatching the paperwork from you and returning to his own desk, picking up two new sheets of paper with a grunt.

“That’s an awful negative way to look at things, fellas.” You looked up at Natasha Romanoff standing in the door, a brown file in her hands that hopefully contained the mission reports of her team.

“Fella. Only one of us is an asshole.” You sighed, accepting the folder when she made her way across the room and handed it over.

You flicked through the files and found three reports and sighed. “Stark-“

“Emailed it to you. Like twenty minutes ago.” Natasha assured you and you nodded, content to let it go just this once that he hadn’t written it by hand.

“You doing anything Friday, Widow?” Matt asked, looking up from where he was hastily rewriting his report. Natasha looked between you both and you just rolled your eyes before returning back to Steve’s neatly written report.

“No, unless a mission comes in.” She told him, leaning against your desk and folding her arms. You looked up briefly but instead resumed reading when you caught her smirk.

“I know something you could do.” Matt looked up and you winced, already anticipating his next line. “Me.”

“I can see how you’d think that would be okay but I’d rather do the fucking space Raccoon then ever let you put a finger on me.” You could help the outburst of laughter as she picked up a red marker and circled something on his report. “There’s only one ‘b’ in Kiribati.”

You swirled the glass of Probably very expensive wine again and looked around to see which of your friends you could pass it off to. Red wine was awful and the more expensive it was, the worse it was.

“Think I might have a chance.” Joey whispered in your ear, eyes locked on Natasha who was laughing while dancing with Thor.

She looked stunning, an emerald dress looked as if it was part of her body, an extension of her that rippled like water. She was grinning as Thor dipped her again, her leg coming out of the split in her dress so delicately that you’d swear a new religion just to her.

“Never in a million years.” You told him, your eyes still on her smile as Thor smoothly passed her on to Bucky who laughed and joked while turning her in a slow sort of waltz.

“What makes you say that?” Joey asked and you looked away from the dazzling smile to find him loosening his tie, a cocky grin on his lips. It annoyed you that you knew he was going to make that smile disappear, that she was going to go back to the smirk she used to hide when someone upset her.

“Matt had the same idea just the other day.” You told him honestly but Joey only shrugged. God, you needed new friends. “Never mind, go for it. I’m sure she can’t wait for a chance at the guy who shot himself in the ass while holding his hun like a tv cop.”

“Shut up.” Joey elbowed you and then confidently made his way over, intercepting Bucky and Natasha, stealing both of their happy little smiles. It hurt just to watch but it hurt even more to see what he was saying, leering at her like a man who hadn’t seen a woman in years.

“I just think we have a lot to offer each other.” You could read his words from her but even worse was his expression, his eyes much lower than hers.

“My eyes are up here.” You could see her annoyance and propped your drink on the table next to you, already planning to intercept this train crash.

“Yeah but you’ve got more to offer than just your eyes.” She clenched her jaw just before you reached them and you paused when the much bigger, much more intimidating Steve landed a hand on Joey’s shoulder, clamping down hard.

“I’m going to have to ask you to walk away from the lady.”

“How are you feeling?”

You looked up blearily from your folded hands and blinked several times to focus in on Natasha at the end of your bed. She swam in and out of focus so you closed your eyes again.

“Vision is still swimming, head hurts, like a lot.” You told her honestly. You heard her sigh but had no time to think as you lurched and puked into a sick bag left by the nurse looking after you.

“I could’ve took the hit.” Natasha sighed and you opened your eyes but still couldn’t focus on her expression. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You had already taken a hit.” You groaned, a hand held up to cover your eyes. She smiled sympathetically as a doctor shuffled into view.

“My man. Saving the damsel in distress.” Jake’s pay on the shoulder left you reeling, your vision blurred and your stomach twisted which made you lurch for the puke bag again. “I’ll patch up your shoulder now.”

Natasha walked away, a last look over her shoulder at you before Jake pulled your curtain closed, cutting you out of her sight.

It was a while before the ringing in your ears receded enough to zone in on the conversation. You winced when you listened to Jake and wondered why you surrounded yourself with idiots.

“It’s just we see each other a lot and you’re such a good patient. You don’t wine or complain and I like that in a woman.” Jake was telling Natasha and you didn’t need to see her face to know that awkward smile that would be taking over her lips.

“You like that I don’t complain?” She asked drily and you winced when Jake let out an affirmative noise. They were so beyond saving. Every last one of your friends.

“Yeah, some girls are ridiculously whiny.” You knew that all the women in his social circle would rip him a new asshole if he said that to him, so why did he think he could say it to Natasha?

“I can finish this.” Natasha sounded all business and you wished there was something you could do that would help but every movement made your head ache and your stomach twist.

“I still have several stitches to do.” Jake sounded confused, like he couldn’t figure out where he went wrong.

“I’d rather bleed out than finish this conversation.” You couldn’t blame her in the slightest. In fact you were considering shaking your head just so that the pain would drown out the sound of Jake’s voice.

“You miss being out in the field?” Steve asked as you handed out the mission brief. You could only laugh and shake your head, passing the next one to Bucky.

Everyone else chose to take their briefs on their StarkPad’s but the soldiers just preferred the traditional paper and ink for the sake of nostalgia so you always had at least two printed documents available.

“Not in the slightest, I get to pack you all out and then head home to bed until you all come back for the debrief and write up reports.” You chuckled. “I prefer the behind the scenes.”

“You might have the right idea.” Natasha huffed, resting on her folded arms. She was running on fumes at this point, having already run two back to back missions.

“Glad you see it my way, you’re on comm’s for this mission.” She gave a tired thumbs up without looking and you were pretty sure she drifted off to sleep.

After the briefing you hung back for any questions from your team or the accompanying Avengers. After a discussion with Layla about schematics of the building you both followed Natasha out.

“Might ask the Widow out for a drink.” Layla told you, her eyes roaming Natasha’s profile.

“Good fucking luck with that.” Matt scoffed, tapping away on his StarkPad. “Why would she date you?”

“She’s a little fruity, why else would she turn you all down?” Layla asked and you sighed, wishing you could just bang their heads together. “Oh maybe because they’re all asking the wrong person out.” You scoffed, pausing when you couldn’t find your phone in your pocket.

“What?” Layla and Matt echoed but you only shrugged, turning back the way you came.

“Never mind, shoot your shot. Have a good mission.” You left them there, gaping up the hallway as you went back in search of your phone.

“I basically saved your life so you kind of have to.” You stopped in the doorway, watching where Corey had Natasha stuck in conversation.

“I have to accept your offer for a date because you got a shot when I managed not to?” Natasha asked slowly, like she wanted Corey to hear how stupid he sounded.

“Basically, yeah.” Corey nodded, shrugging like there was no possible issue with it.

“I only almost got shot because I was busy turning down Layla and you think I’m in the mood to be asked out again?” Natasha asked and you wondered how the mission had gone so poorly that Natasha had almost gotten shot while on comm’s.

“Can you blame us? We all want some of that Black Widow bite.” Corey laughed and you pressed a hand to your face.

“We’ll as embarrassing as this is for everyone involved, I’m going to have to interrupt.” You spoke up and Corey turned to look at you with a glare. “Director Fury wants to speak with you.”

“Why?” Corey asked and you shrugged.

“Something about workplace harassment.” You shrugged and Corey looked puzzled, pushing past you out the door.

“The lights are on but nobody is home in the boys head.” Natasha told you and you laughed before shrugging.

“I surround myself with idiots just to make myself look better.” You told her and she laughed before sighing warily and narrowing her eyes.

“You’re not looking for a piece of the Black Widow bite?” She asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Nah, I got my eye on someone real.”

+1.

“What did you mean? Before, in the briefing room with Layla?” Natasha asked, watching where you stood in the doorway.

“You could hear me earlier?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are they asking the wrong person out?” She asked, more insistently. “Who is someone real?”

“They’ve all asked The Black Widow out, an overly-specialized and dehumanized character from what they’ve gathered in the media portrayal of you. No one has asked out Natasha.” You explained, feeling almost stupid now that you had said it out loud.

“How would you do it?” She asked, almost quietly. You’d never heard her sound quiet.

“I’d invite you to my apartment, I’d make you dinner and offer you a few drinks.” You told her, shrugging one shoulder. Her eyes shuttered and you watched that cold look take over.

“You’d hide me away?” She asked simply.

“No, I’d offer you your privacy.”

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff drabble #natasha romanoff reader insert #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x male!reader #m!reader #male reader #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

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floralseokjin · 4 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song ii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, things are heating up! the phrase ‘dilf dick’ gets thrown around way too much, RJ and taehyung cameo, hoseok, yoongi and namjoon are mentioned, as well as jungkook if you squint words; 12,169

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After Seokjin dropped you off at the station, he and Arin waving you goodbye, it would be two weeks later when you saw him again. Not that you were holding out on it or anything… No way… That would be ludicrous.

The last week of school was always hectic, activities and games top priority now that teaching had come to a standstill. The children were hyper, the teacher’s worn out, but without fail you always looked forward to the summer fate. Head of the committee every year, you and a handful of your fellow teachers organised each game, each stall and each prize. As well as wanting the children to have fun, it was also an opportunity to celebrate their achievements throughout the year with their families. There were an arrange of awards for most subjects, third through to first place for each grade, and this year you’d convinced the principal, Mr. Jung, to include a new creative writing award. It wasn’t technically a subject – you already had the spelling bee for English class, but he’d thought it was a great idea to celebrate the students’ talents in a brand new way.

Of course, there was one child you had in mind when you’d gone to him with the idea – Arin. It was only fair in your eyes, she’d been with you not even three months and hadn’t had a chance like the other kids. The other awards were spoken for but you wanted her to at least get something, just so first grade could end on a good note for her and help her look forward to September.

You were at the entrance of the fate, in casual conversation with Mrs. Jeon as well as greeting the students’ families, when you caught a glimpse of Seokjin. He was hand in hand with Arin who skipped happily beside him. He was wearing a sea green thin sweater, that blew in the light breeze, and black jeans. He was even in sneakers. Way more unbelievable than the slippers. He looked effortlessly good, and you thought you preferred him like this, casually dressed. The suits were great yes, but he looked far more attainable like this. Not that you wanted to attain him.

Damn it.

You tried your best to ignore the strange heat that had seemed to settle in your chest at the sight of him, the faintest flurry of what could only be described as butterflies aggravating your stomach. What the hell? What was wrong with you?

“Hello, Miss.” Arin grinned, giving you a small wave, and you shook yourself out of it.

“Hi, Arin,” you waved back, of course catching Seokjin’s eyes in the process.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted, the hint of a smirk across his mouth. Teasing, again. Two could play at that game.

“Mr. Kim,” you replied, unable to keep a straight face – especially when you heard him laugh as he passed by you.

You watched him walk off, secretly pleased now that you knew he was here. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you’d been hoping he’d be free to attend the fate. To see Arin receive her reward, of course – nothing else. But, okay, maybe you had spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which dress to wear last night. Not that you wanted to impress him, more like… stand out.

“Who is he?” Mrs. Jeon whispered animatedly – hopefully out of earshot and once again knocking some sense back into you.

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t aware of Seokjin’s jaw-dropping good looks – or more so, that they didn’t affect you whatsoever. “A student’s father.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “He is just pure… sex on legs.”

“Eunbi!” You exclaimed, taken by such surprise you used her first name. She burst out laughing, something you couldn’t ignore and ended up in a fit of giggles yourself.

“Behave.” You warned, trying to compose yourself. “You’re a married woman.” You’d attended her wedding last summer, bringing along Soojung as your plus one.

“Looking is still allowed,” she replied, making you both explode into laughter once again.

You were giddy. Really, what was up with you?

The afternoon was a success, the children and their families enjoying immensely, as well as the teachers. It was your job to announce the creative writing reward and it was so heart-warming to see how happy it made Arin to come first place. She held her little trophy and movie theatre vouchers proudly for the camera, Seokjin looking just as over the moon as her. Mr. Jung convinced him to join for a few snaps and you looked on with a polite smile. Other than earlier and a thank you as you passed the prize to Arin, those had been your only interactions with Seokjin for the day and now the fate was drawing to a close. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed, because that would be preposterous, but if those were going to be your only exchanges then it made the times he’d fleeted into your mind these past couple of weeks highly embarrassing…

It wasn’t as if you wanted to think about him, he just kept popping up. First you blamed Soojung, who wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Dilf for a few days after the exchange at his house (mansion), but soon the topic bored her, no new developments to keep her hooked. You on the other hand found yourself imagining instances where you’d bump into one another again. You know, happenstances… Like if he had the time to drop Arin off at school, although you doubted he’d end up in the staff parking lot again… You’d had a good giggle to yourself remembering his face when he’d realised.

Other incidents were less realistic, like maybe he’d drop off a thank you present the students liked to gift to say goodbye, or maybe you’d bump into him at the grocery store, the park – highly improbable, but you found yourself thinking all these things when you were procrastinating or trying to get to sleep.

Even now as you tried to win a prize at the Ring Toss stall – don’t ask how much money you’d already spent – (obviously using your free time wisely before you were needed again), you found yourself disappointed that things hadn’t worked out quite like you’d imagined today. You were being stupid. The guy was supposed to annoy the heck out of you, yet here you were unable to stop thinking about him. It had been a long time since a man had gotten you this distracted. A really long time…

“Can I help?”

You jumped at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, granted you were in deep concentration, about to launch the hoop, but you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if he knew you’d been thinking about him, caught you in the act. You whipped your head up, forcing yourself to relax and smile.

“I’ve been watching you try to win for the past ten minutes.” He chuckled. Great. How embarrassing. He stepped closer. “What do you have your eyes so set on?”

Oh, god. Even more embarrassing. You had a split second to make a decision. Be truthful or lie and choose something else. You know what, who cared? You were thirty and still loved stuffed animals. It wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“The alpaca.” You pointed to the white fluffy animal sat on the top shelf. With his cute round face and a red scarf wrapped around his neck, he was adorable and you really wanted him.

Seokjin wasn’t fazed at all. “He’s cute. I’ll try but don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

You nodded and handed him the hoops. He needed to loop all three around the skittles. You watched him with anticipation, thinking to yourself this definitely wasn’t one of your fantasies, but you liked it regardless. Liked it even better when Seokjin managed to win.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled, his name still feeling strange to say aloud. The man in charge of the game passed you your new ‘pet’ and you held it fondly, unable to stop yourself. Your landlord didn’t allow animals so you’d had to improvise over the years. You’d never had an alpaca before, but you were sure he’d fit right in.

“No problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” He chuckled.

There was a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was new. You were so used to Seokjin joking about you were expecting him to take the lead. Today he was quiet, actually right now he looked pretty awkward.

You opened your mouth to ask him how he was when you suddenly realised something. How stupid of you. You’d been so distracted by the stuffed animal you hadn’t realised a little certain someone was missing. “Where’s Arin?”

“She’s playing with a friend and their family.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck, looking at you, but not really making eye contact. “Y/N, do you maybe want to take a walk? We could find some where to sit and talk?”

“About what?” You could’ve kicked yourself. Why did you have to ask that? You were just a little dazed from hearing him say your name again.

“Uh, just about Arin really.”

You didn’t really know what you’d been expecting so any answer would’ve surprised you, but you nodded, taking him up on the offer. “Okay.”

You knew a bench away from the fate but still on school grounds, and you walked side by side, noticing just how tall and broad he was. His shoulders looked unbelievable in that sweater, and it hugged his chest perfectly when the light breeze of the afternoon hit him, his well-built chest visible. Not that you were staring or anything, you just happened to notice…

You small talked along the way. Not much, mostly about the fate, but it was enough for you to hit your destination without any awkward silence. You wracked your brains as you sat, wondering what he had to say about Arin. Maybe he wanted to discuss her stories more, thank you for the prize she’d won. What you did know though, was that his cologne really did smell amazing. It was woody, maybe spicy, and just plain addicting. This close proximity was wreaking havoc with you again. You sat the alpaca between you both on bench, acting as a barrier for your sanity.

Seokjin patted its head absentmindedly before he side-eyed you, that amused smile you’d become familiar with upturning the corners of his mouth. “You seem a lot less scrappy today.”

You raised both eyebrows, thrown for a moment. “Scrappy?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “a lot less intimidating.”

You? Intimidating? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The sheer power of Seokjin’s brow line alone could bring a person to quivering knees, and that wasn’t mentioning the obvious, like you know, his face. However, he seemed genuine enough. You didn’t really consider yourself feisty, but then again, when pushed to your limits maybe something just snapped inside of you. You had powers you weren’t aware of, obviously. Better own them then…

You gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forgive and forget.”

He chuckled again, genuinely amused, but you sensed some reluctance his end, a slight awkwardness. Was he stalling? You suddenly grew a little nervous. The dynamics you’d grown somewhat used to during your last few encounters had shifted without you knowing. Seokjin was a lot less teasing today. How come?

“So,” you pressed carefully, unable to handle the anticipation. “What was it you wanted to say?”

He lifted his head up, warm eyes meeting yours and your insides did that flurrying thing again. Your imagination hadn’t concocted this. When he smiled you realised how kind it was – how kind it could be when he wasn’t being infuriating. “I just want to thank you.”

Your eyes widened before you could control the surprise. “Thank me?”

He nodded, relaxing a little now, pressing his back into the bench. “For being such an amazing teacher to Arin these past couple of months.”

Of course, Arin. That’s what he’d said in the beginning, right? He wanted to sit and talk about Arin.

“That’s really no problem,” you smiled. It was your job after all. Yes, teachers liked being appreciated for their hard work, but personally, praise sent you a little red in the face.

You didn’t know if he heard you, already continuing, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “It’s been really hard on her, the change – you know, uprooting the life she knew to come and live with me. New school, making new friends. She was incredibly worried, but you made it so much easier for her.”

Looking at you again, sounding so genuine, you found yourself freezing. You stumbled a little over your words before managing to come up with something functional. “Of course, it’s my job to make every student comfortable in my class.” You were sure any teacher would’ve treated her with the same kindness and care. But, yes, truthfully you had become very fond of her in such a short time. You wanted him to know that in a roundabout way. “I’ll miss her come September.”

He gave you an appreciative smile. “She’ll miss you too.”

Serious Seokjin always threw you. Maybe it was because you had to accept that you’d misjudged him completely. He wasn’t the rich pompous jerk you’d first thought the morning he’d hit your car. You had to admit that like this he impressed and intrigued you. It was why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him these past two weeks. Which was stupid because you doubted he was doing the same.

“Thanks for choosing her to win that writing competition, by the way.” His voice brought you back to Earth, concentrating on him again to find that mischievous grin all over his face. “Even if you didn’t like the way it ended.”

You scoffed. Was he ever going to drop that? He knew that wasn’t the case. He’d asked for the damn pointer himself. “Well, if Lewis Carroll did it.”

“Kim Arin can too?” He finished, both of you instantly laughing. Once it petered off, he tilted his head to the side, gazing at you almost. It made you fidget a little, getting flustered. “She’s really fond of you. I meant what I said at the parent-teacher meeting.”

God, you really were horrendous at taking compliments. Especially from a man that already made you feel funny.

“She’s always speaking about how kind and lovely you are.” A pause. "...How pretty you are.” You froze. He hesitated, contemplating something in his head it seemed. He looked you straight in the eyes and said casually, “I have to admit, I agree."

Oh. What?! You felt heat begin to travel up your face, your cheeks burning and you prayed it wasn't visible. You didn't know what to reply, but thankfully (perhaps) Seokjin simply carried on, hopefully oblivious to your awkward reaction. You should bypass it too. It probably didn't mean anything. He was just being polite, right?

“Realising it was your car I hit made me feel even guiltier." He shook his head regretfully. "I really am sorry for all that. The damage, stealing your car."

"It's fine, Seokjin." He hadn’t really stolen your car, you’d been extremely overdramatic there. He'd apologised enough already. You were over it. You had two days left of school, the summer all yours, your mood was much better. Let bygones be bygones.

“Yeah but, I should’ve never gotten your car towed. I realise I was out of line. You said you didn’t want my help but I didn’t listen."

You nodded, listening to him, aware he needed to say this. Again, it seemed as if he'd rehearsed it almost, or maybe it was the professional in him. You were too damn stubborn so he wasn't all to blame. You smiled appreciatively, fighting your hand's strange urge to pat his shoulder. It was maybe best that you didn't touch him. Instead you gave a teasing grin. “But you still won’t let me pay you back?”

He whined – or at least that's the only way you could describe it. It tugged at something inside your chest. Maybe it was more like a wail. Less cute. He couldn't believe you were back on that.

"I'm just messing around," you laughed, trying to compose yourself to let him know something too. “While we're on apologies... I'm sorry for being so short with you annnd for calling you a car thief."

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. Oh, it was pushed back above his forehead again today. You hadn't noticed, too distracted by what? His sneakers? The outfit as a whole? His face? “I deserved it, let’s be honest."

"Maybe in the beginning," you admitted carefully, causing him to laugh harder.

“I was way too preoccupied when I hit you. With work and promising Arin I’d drop her off at school – because shamefully I’d never done it before." He turned a little pensive at that, lost in his own thoughts.

“You must be really busy," you said, voice soft. There was no way he could do it all. Work seemingly six days a week and still try to be there for Arin 24/7.

He looked across at you, an eyebrow quirking slightly. What was he surprised by? That you were sympathising with him? He nodded slowly. “It’s just hard learning to juggle everything. Don’t get me wrong, I love having her with me every day, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You wanted to say it would be summer break soon enough, but then on second thoughts, maybe that would make things even harder.

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, changing the subject back to you. “Besides, me being busy doesn’t really excuse the fact I hit you. I mean, what if god forbid you’d been walking past my car instead, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” He looked beside himself at just the idea.

“But I wasn’t,” you reminded him, “so it’s perfectly okay.”

“You’re right,” he murmured, giving you a small smile that rounded his cheeks.

There was silence then, where you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? To thank you for being a kind teacher to Arin and to say sorry once again for the car debacle? For some reason you felt eager to keep the conversation going. It was an urge deep inside you that acted on its own accord.

“So, what do you do?” You asked, trying your best to sound casual. Not that you weren’t casual. You just didn’t want to make it seem like you were desperate for small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Again, he looked vaguely surprised. What, that you were interested in him? No, that was phrased wrong. That you were interested. He didn’t meet your eyes as he replied. “I, uh, I’m the CEO of LG. I took over from my father about three years ago.”

You swore your eyes bugged out of their sockets you were so overcome with shock. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you as you tried to pull it together. “The LG?”

Like one of the biggest companies in the country LG? He was way too young surely? Weren’t those type of CEOs old and round looking?

Seokjin chuckled, finally looking you in the eyes. “Unless you know another one.”

You were speechless, well aware you needed to actually say something in reply instead of gawping but what? What could you say to that? “I guess that explains why you’re always so busy then.”

God, why? Of all the things, why that? Well done for stating the obvious, Y/N.

Seokjin gave you a modest smile. “It’s difficult, yes. Trying to manage work and being effectively a single dad, but I really am trying.” He shook his head slightly, as if he was telling himself off. “I missed her so much these past couple of years, so to finally have her living with me is a dream come true. I’m trying to be the best father I can but I guess it’s a work in progress.”

You weren’t expecting him to be this open with you at all. But maybe Soojung wouldn’t be so surprised. She and a bunch of your other friends, even acquittances said that you were easy to confide in. That you listened well and didn’t try to solve everything. You didn’t know how true that was but you didn’t mind listening to him right now. Sometimes confiding in a stranger just worked.

“Arin obviously adores you.” You smiled. “I could see that the day I dropped your car back.”

He gave you a tiny smile of thanks but sighed softly. “I just want her to always be happy. I know coming from a broken home may make that statement hypocritical but…”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “If a relationship isn’t working out then you need to do what’s best for your child, and you.” That was important too. “I mean, my parents divorced when I was quite young and I have a million and one happy memories growing up.”

You grew a little self-conscious, thinking that you were oversharing, but he seemed happy to hear it, perking up a little. “Really?”

“Yep. They beat the ones I have of them yelling at one another.”

He gave a bitter chuckle then, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. It’s just…” He paused and you wondered if he was going to carry on. Was it bad that you felt curious? You liked seeing this side of Seokjin, it wasn’t how your fantasies had gone at all, it was better. Things had taken an unexpected turn but it just seemed to fit. It seemed natural. It felt nice to talk to him like this. Suddenly you didn’t seem so different. Despite the contrasts in your job and lifestyle, they weren’t very apparent here on this bench…

“My ex-wife is… she lives a busy life – even busier than mine. But she loves it. She goes looking for it.” Seokjin explained. You listened politely. “That’s why Arin had to start living with me, and even though I’m pulled thin, I still try to make enough time for my daughter, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter anything. Nana doesn’t…”

Nana? That was her name. You imagined someone slim and beautiful, it was only fitting seeing as Seokjin was the man she was married to once upon a time. Beauty attracted beauty.

“Is that why you divorced?” Okay, maybe you were prying now. You hoped he didn’t find it rude.

He didn’t. “There were a lot of reasons,” he answered honestly. “It was as much my fault as it was hers. We were going in different directions and had fallen out of love. It’s been a while now, nearly two years, I’m fine.” He met your eyes at the last part, as if he wanted you to understand that. Or maybe you were reading it wrong. Why would he want you to know that?

“Does she live far?” You remembered Arin’s disappointment that weekend when her mom had cancelled their plans. Maybe she lived a while away and it was hard to commute with Arin back and forth.

“No, just in the next city. It’s not far at all. She’s really high up in an accounting firm there. That’s why when we divorced I moved closer to my building here. See, that’s what annoys me the most,” Seokjin scoffed, an edge to his voice now. Oh shoot, you’d made a mistake with that question. “It’s really no distance at all, so why can’t she spare one single day for Arin?”

You made a sympathetic face, unsure what to say. You decided on honesty. “I’m sorry, I can’t even begin to imagine how all that feels.”

Break-ups and divorces were hard yes, but when a child was stuck in the middle a tonne of other complications arose. As a teacher you understood that very well, but as a long-time single woman, maybe not. It had been a while since you’d opened your heart to someone, your life taking a very different turn to what you’d expected three years ago. Not that you minded, you liked where you were heading right now, comfortable and at ease. There was nothing missing. You had your friends and family and that was enough. You hoped Seokjin had people around him too.

“No, I’m the one that should apologise,” he said suddenly, face tinged with colour, as if he was embarrassed. “I’m offloading onto you, that isn’t fair.”

“I don’t mind.” Honestly, you didn’t at all. It wasn’t even offloading, more so a conversation. You were getting to know him.

“You’re just so easy to talk to and I got a bit caught off guard when you started asking about me.” He admitted, his warm eyes finding yours.

Oh. So now you knew for definite he was indeed surprised by all your questions. When was the last time he’d spoken about all that stuff relating his ex-wife? Had he ever spoken about it at all?

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you today.”

His words caught your attention, interrupting your thoughts and in the process confusing you greatly. You raised a questioning eyebrow. What did he mean?

“When I asked you to take a walk I did want to thank you for being so kind to Arin and to apologise for the car trouble, but there was also something else…” You waited patiently, heart thudding quite roughly against your chest for some reason. He looked nervous again. Nervous and awkward just like earlier, before you’d distracted him.

He chose a new direction. One that left you a little dazed. “Y/N, would I be crossing the line if I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately?” His dark brown eyes searched for any reaction across your face.

“Me?” You asked quietly.

He chuckled bashfully. “Yeah.”

Somehow you found your voice. Well, some of it anyway. “No, it’s not crossing the line.” You wanted to tell him just the same. How he’d slipped into your mind at random times of the day and how you’d secretly been holding out on another meeting. How you’d been anticipating today. But none of that came in your stunned state. Seokjin had been thinking about you? The annoying, exasperating so-and-so hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you?

He instantly looked relieved – and pleased – at your answer. “I’m glad.” A pause as he hesitated. “Do you maybe want to… go out for dinner this Saturday?” He sounded hopeful, adding quickly, “with me, obviously.”

You would’ve giggled at that but nothing was working. You needed to process his question. He was asking you for dinner?

“My way of apologising for everything, my treat…” You guessed he felt the need to explain now, a little panicked by your reaction (or no reaction.) “For hitting your car and towing it away without your permission.”

You laughed then. Just like that your shock dispersing. He was so oblivious it hurt, and now you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He really was that unaware. “So you want to spend more of your money on me?”

You weren’t mad, of course. He knew that, laughing too as he weighed up your reply. “I see the problem.” You snickered, your gaze intimately locking with his in the process. “So, what do you say?” He murmured. “I mean, it’s for a plethora of things really. The car business, all you’ve done for Arin. One massive thank you.”

Oh. You were getting mixed messages here. Was this an apology dinner, a thank you dinner? Or something more? Maybe he read the questioning in your eyes because he was rushing to say more. “As well as just wanting to enjoy your company. I feel like I talked too much about myself today, I’d like to get to know you too…”

Okay, now this sounded awfully like a date… And that word freaked you out. Had you not just been thinking about how happily single you’d been for three years and how all you needed were your friends and family? But honestly, you were getting ahead of yourself. It was one dinner. There was no way to predict the outcome and you shouldn’t even be thinking that far ahead. Sometimes you didn’t need to think. You needed to remember that. Sometimes it was just good to act in the moment. Take cautious to the wind and accept this incredibly handsome man’s dinner invitation, whatever his intention was.

You smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened a tad, surprise visible and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” You laughed and nodded. Really you should be the one still shocked, because despite everything – the misjudgements, the attitude, the way you’d been itching for numerous fights with him, it was a wonder why he still wanted to be anywhere near you. …Maybe he liked that… Maybe he liked you? Or were you absolutely barking mad?

“Can I have your number to arrange everything?”

You went to relay it to him, watching him pull his phone from out his front jean pocket but then remembered something. “Oh, I already have yours, should I just text you?”

“That’s my work phone. Maybe we should swap personal phone numbers?”

You mean, you only had one phone, but it made sense why he had two. You were still stuck on the personal part though. A little dazed (and excited) as he saved your number into his phonebook. Your phone was locked up in your classroom, so you couldn’t take his but no matter, you’d just save it once he messaged you.

Seokjin glanced at his watch – an expensive looking thing, but that was really no surprise now – and hummed. “We should head back, the fate will be finishing soon.”

You made more small talk as you walked back, Seokjin wondering if you had any allergies or a special diet so he could bear it in mind when he chose a restaurant. Luckily for you no, but you found out that he was allergic to garlic and potatoes, which seemed ridiculous and highly unfair. But he did admit that he ignored it sometimes, which resulted in disaster often because garlic made him itch like crazy. You had a good laugh over that.

“So, what are you going to name him?” Seokjin asked, stroking the top of your alpaca’s head who was hooked against your hip as you walked.

“Hm. I don’t know.” You shrugged, turning to him. “You decide? You did win him after all.”

“Hmmm,” he thought aloud. A few seconds later he came up with something. “How about RJ?”

“RJ?”

Seokjin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

Smiling, you had to agree. “Yeah, it is.” You held the stuffed animal up in front of you, tilting your head to the side. “RJ the alpaca. Perfect.”

Still walking as you spoke, you felt Seokjin move in, hovering his hand behind the small of your back in case you stumbled, your attention elsewhere. You felt the same warmth you had the day he’d called you by your name for the first time…

Of course you had to tell Soojung about the events of the day. It wasn't as if you could keep it a secret – and it wasn't as if you wanted to, you just knew what would happen... She was like a dog with a bone, unable to give it up, making you recall every minute detail down to the socks he was wearing (black, by the way, to match his jeans. You had indeed noticed).

“He’s so smart. He waits until you’re not this kid’s teacher anymore and then BAM, do you want to go on a date?”

“Soojung, it’s not a date," you sighed. “He’s just…being nice."

You were still reluctant to call it a date, because well, he hadn't used the word himself. You didn't want to get your hopes up. Although you would never admit that to her, you knew she understood, in her own roundabout way.

“Being nice?!” She exclaimed, scoffing absurdly loud.

You shrugged. “Yeah, thanking me."

She spluttered, as if she found you terribly naive. “What, thanks for being kind to my daughter? SHUT UP, it’s your job! No, he wants to give you that Dilf dick!"

“Oh, my god. Soojung!” You hushed, immediately feeling your face burn. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind because it was so unbelievable.

Saturday was not that long away, the last two days of school flew by, and whilst you were emotional, your mind was also a little too preoccupied with the weekend and what it all meant. Gradually, you’d finally had to admit to yourself that this was probably, most definitely a date. The word sent a fear through your body like no other. Despite being single for three years, you had been on a few first dates in that time, and obviously they had never led to anything. In fact, it had been over a year since your last and that's when you had sworn off dating altogether.

Min Yoongi. That was the last guy you'd said yes too. A fifth grade teacher at Primrose Hill up until last September. (That had nothing to do with you, by the way, he'd just moved cities last summer to pursue a different career. The date hadn't been that bad...) He was easy on the eye and funny, although maybe a little too sarcastic at times, so much so, you hadn't been able to pick up on the signals until he was cornering you in the staff room and asking you to watch a movie with him that coming weekend. Being both teachers, you'd assumed you'd hit it off straight away, but that wasn't the case. It turned out that Yoongi pretty much hated his job, only there for the extended vacations. That was perfectly fine, you guessed, but you realised that a man like that wasn't for you. How could you both love and hate the same job? It just wasn't feasible.

You didn't miss dating, mostly because you hadn't been that into the idea anyway. But now? Now that the idea had presented itself again? After the most peculiar string of events, you had suddenly found yourself being asked out for dinner by the man who had hit your car, and you were… excited. For the first time in forever, you were excited for a date.

You hadn’t felt like this since –

Since Donghae.

Even thinking his name turned your heart heavy. Not as bad as the original heartbreak three years ago, but the memory was still enough to dampen your mood, if even for a moment. You'd met one another during your last year of college and had stayed together for the next five years. He'd been your forever man, the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with – he had proposed to you on your 26th birthday after all... Only, being his fiancé hadn't lasted. Since months later he confessed to cheating on you – repeatedly with a girl that worked in the Starbucks near his work building. It had been the pressure of settling down, that's what he'd told you. He was still young, had been very young when you'd gotten together in college and he wanted to experience life properly. His friends were out clubbing every weekend while he stayed inside playing boardgames with you and your friends. Your friends, as if they weren't his too, as if you all hadn't been joined at the hip in college...

Your life had pretty much crumbled after that. Everything you'd known had been ripped from under your feet and you had no idea what to do or where to go. One day you had been someone's wife-to-be and the next you were a lonely, broken human. You moved in with Soojung, had to take a month off work because you couldn't function properly, and slowly had to learn how to live your life without the love of your life.

It took a while, but gradually you got there. You and Soojung found a new, bigger place to live – where you still lived now – and you found ways to stop thinking about him, went on weekend vacations and started new hobbies. It took just over a year to feel yourself again but dating never seemed right.

Soojung slowly encouraged you to try it out, but the handful that happened in that twelve month period just felt forced – even the one with Yoongi, which had pretty much happened organically (as in, Soojung hadn't set it up…), felt like it was missing something. In a way you knew you were comparing everyone to Donghae, you couldn't help it. You couldn't imagine potentially falling in love with someone else again. He was all you'd known for so long, and once upon a time your relationship had been amazing. He'd been amazing. Getting out of that mindset had been difficult, but there had been an even more difficult one... One you were still struggling with now. The issue of opening up your heart again.

Truthfully, that's why you’d stayed single for so long. Why you'd given up on dating and didn't want to know. The thought of you meeting and falling for someone only to inevitably get hurt again terrified you. You wouldn't say you had trust issues, you knew not every man was like Donghae, but just imagining your world crumbling like it had three years ago was enough to just give up.

It wasn't like you were unhappy though. You’d meant all that stuff about liking where your life was heading. You had your friends and family and a job you loved. Your life was fulfilling, there was nothing missing. But maybe that’s what you’d needed to realise… Life worked in mysterious ways. Once you were happy and content maybe it was finally time to open up your heart again.

The truth was, you were very, very attracted to Seokjin. You felt something, even when you wanted to poke his eyeballs out for being so annoying. Actually, thinking about it, maybe that’s why you’d been so scrappy, your mind was fighting with your heart… Despite the obvious differences between you both, you oddly weren’t fazed by that right now. Seokjin didn’t seem unrelatable in that sense. Yes, your lives were crazy different, but there was something between you. You were sure of it. The way he’d opened up to you on that bench, the way he’d smiled at you, and even the way he’d teased you. It had to mean something.

Sometimes it was okay to trust your heart. That warm feeling weaving its way through your chest… Sometimes it was okay to be a little exposed. Not everyone was out to get you.

What was the worst that could happen? The dinner never led to anything else? That would be okay, you’d get over it. But what if it did lead to something more…?

You deserved to find out, right?

Saturday morning you received a text from Seokjin. You were eating breakfast at the small table you had set up in the kitchen alongside Soojung. She had only just woken up and was still a little bleary eyed but still managed to instantly perk up at the mention of Seokjin. She demanded to see his message straight away.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

She squealed. “This guy writes his texts like they’re emails. You just know he’s going to be a good lay.”

“Soojung,” you groaned. She would not shut up about Dilf dick this and Dilf dick that. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s a CEO,” she said simply, eyes wide as if that explained everything. “Of one of this country’s biggest companies. That’s like some type of erotic novel shit.”

You groaned loudly, dropping your head into your hands, but she still continued – sadly.

“But none of that creepy Fifty Shades of Grey stuff. This guy is a real gentleman. Like he puts your pleasure above all else. I think he’d be really good at going down on a woman.”

By this point, you’d stopped feeling flustered by her insane claims. They were just normal now. She was unbelievable. Why was she even thinking of these things and where did she come up with them? You didn’t want to think of Seokjin like that because you really wanted to keep your sanity for tonight. Plus, no way were you ready for something like that yet. You hoped Seokjin wasn’t anticipating something more. You were sure he wasn’t, you hadn’t gotten those vibes. Soojung was just being dumb.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t half talk some shit.”

You wanted her to point out how cute his text was instead. Like how he’d said he was Arin’s father, you know, just in case you’d forgotten who he was in two days, but no, she was too caught up on potential erotic novel titles.

You slipped to the side with a start when Soojung nudged your shoulder, getting all up into your personal space as she teased you. “I’m right though, huh?”

You pushed her back. “This is just a dinner. Not the start of an erotic novel.”

She shrugged. “I’d read it.”

“What would you read?”

Taehyung’s voice appeared from the doorway and you both looked up to see him leaning against it, eyes still pretty much glued shut, his thick hair pulled all ways.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Soojung greeted, standing up to make her way towards him. You watched her wrap her arms around his middle, nuzzling into him. She’d only left him in bed not half an hour ago. Seeing your best friend in love was odd but nice. You weren’t used to sappy Soojung, but you had to admit it suited her well. They were cute together.

Taehyung wrapped one arm around his girlfriend and lifted the other to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “What are you guys yelling about down here? You woke me up.”

“Y/N’s date tonight,”

“Oh, Mr. Dilf?” He sniggered, perking up.

Soojung screeched and joined in. “CEO Dilf dick.”

“You told him?!” You whined, standing to dump your bowl in the sink.

“Of course.” Taehyung smiled smugly. “She tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yep.” She grinned. You watched in minor amusement as Taehyung leant down to peck her mouth, Soojung gagging loudly. “Your breath stinks.”

You replied to Seokjin promptly – well as soon as Soojung and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen – and not long after that he messaged back with the restaurant details, asking if it was okay to pick you up at 7pm. You sent him your address, almost immediately freaking out. You knew his wealth hadn't fazed you that bad, seeing as he was so easy to talk to, but your place and his place were on different planes of existence. You knew it wouldn't bother him, he wasn't like that, you knew that now, but you were still a little self-conscious. It was probably the nerves regarding today. The reality was setting it. The slight doubt…

Soojung wasn't helping.

“There’s steaks on the menu that are more than our rent a week," she awed, looking down at her phone.

Why had you given her the name of the restaurant again? You would never learn your lesson. She had already googled his name when you’d told her he was the CEO of LG and she had been this close to searching his net worth before you’d stopped her. You didn’t want to know, not only was it incredibly invasive, it made you feel slightly faint. Seeing his image pop up online was enough for you . A professional headshot, he smiled kindly into the camera lens. It was crazy to think that it was the man you’d be going to dinner with.

Soojung would be good for one thing though – helping you decide on an outfit for tonight. Taehyung had gone home a couple of hours ago, needed at the bar he owned so she had nothing else better to do. Not that she was listening to you though…

She shrugged. “What did I expect? This dude is a billionaire."

“He’s not."

Billionaire seemed a lot more intimidating than a millionaire, but in reality what was the difference? He was unbelievably rich and you were just... you. You shook your head, attempting to claw yourself out of the anxiety hole you'd found yourself in. His job didn't matter. The restaurant he'd chosen didn't matter. You were going for dinner with him to enjoy his company and get to know him better. The finer details were irrelevant.

“Come on! If not he must be a multi-multimillionaire." She rationalised. "His dad is the billionaire."

You groaned. "Will you stop making me nervous and help me pick something to wear?"

You decided on the midi dress you'd actually worn to Eunbi's wedding last summer. It was the only fancy thing you had – or at least fancy enough to dine at a restaurant that sold insane dollar steaks. But wait, the restaurant wasn't supposed to matter, remember?

You still wanted to look nice though. The dress was modest in itself but maybe the colour was a bit eye-catching – a deep red. Soojung said it was perfect and you'd knock his Dilf socks off. By now you were getting sick of the word. You told her as much.

"What if I don't want to sleep with him?"

"As if." She scoffed. "Your dry spell has gone on far too long. You deserve this." She caught the look of apprehension on your face. "When you're ready of course."

"Don't make me –”

"Nervous, I know" she finished for you, sighing loudly. "There's no need to be. Mr. Dilf is whipped for you, I just know it."

How did she know? She hadn't even met him, but you appreciated the sentiment. You did not appreciate it when she was being a clever bitch though.

"I'm just trying to work this out." She said, watching you apply your mascara in the bathroom mirror. It was much later in the day now, about forty minutes before Seokjin was due to pick you up. You were dressed, hair up, makeup nearly done, and sick to your stomach with anticipation. You hummed, letting her know you'd heard her and to continue.

"You were mad when Dilf spent money on your car but you're okay with him spending mad money on you at this restaurant?"

"Soojung," you warned, staring at her reflection in the glass.

She held her hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. Is it okay when it's food?"

You sighed. You knew it didn't really make sense, you guessed, but well, you'd said yes to the dinner. You hadn't said yes to the car being repaired. That was the difference.

"I'm not going to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

"Well, don't just order a side salad, he'll think you're weird..."

You simply stared at her. Her input was so appreciated.

“He’s here, oh my god, he’s here!” Soojung screamed, spying through the voile curtains in the living room. "Ten minutes early. I love that."

“Soojung, move away, now." You told her sternly.

“The fucking car–” She cut herself with a muffled sound. As if she was trying to stifle her own screams. You guessed he'd gotten out of said car. “What the fuck, what the fuck, he’s SO hot. I’m going to pass out."

“Soojung!" Dropping your phone into your purse you slipped on your heels, nearly tripping over in the process. You gripped onto the back of the couch just in time. "I swear to god if he sees you."

She spun around, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You never said he was that hot."

You shrugged. "You never asked."

"I asked every goddamn second of the day. You lucky bitch." She walked towards you, fixing a piece of your hair that had fallen into your eyes. “How come you get hot billionaire Dilf and I get the man-child whose special talent is making cocktails."

"Shut up," you scoffed. She loved Taehyung and his cocktail making skills. That's how they'd met after all. She drunk at the bar three days a week for a month straight until he asked her out.

The doorbell rung and you froze, remembering how nervous you were. Soojung's antics had distracted you for a while but now reality was setting in. As you turned to leave she tapped your ass. “Get that Dilf dick, girl!”

"Soojung, I swear to god –”

"I won't wait up."

Ha. As if. She'd be glued to that window until Seokjin dropped you off back home. You knew her all too well, you'd been best friends for over ten years.

In the entryway now, you didn't have time for breathing exercises. Although, you wished you'd had once you opened the door to see Seokjin stood there looking devastating handsome.

“Hi," he smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey," you managed to squeeze out, cemented to the ground.

He was dressed in a double breasted navy two piece that must have been tailored to fit his body down to the millimetre, a crisp white dress shirt on underneath. His hair looked shorter, falling just above is eyebrows and parted slightly in the middle. He looked good enough to eat. Or good enough to make you pass out. Either one.

“You look beautiful," he awed, rendering you pretty speechless.

This was a date. It really was a date.

"Thank you," you managed to reply, needing to return the compliment. But what could you possibly say?! “You look…really good."

Oh god. How embarrassing.

Especially when Seokjin burst out laughing, that familiar squeak to it that you'd heard at the parent-teacher meeting. "I'll take it. Thanks." He tilted his head. "Are you ready to go? I'm a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

You nodded, clutching your purse tight to your side. "I, uh... I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing." You raised your voice a little so she'd hear you, but on her best behaviour she stayed deathly silent. Well done, Soojung.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but you figured you'd fill him in inside the car. "It's fine," he shook his head.

Seeing you stepping forward he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to invite you to lead the way. You did, making sure not to look back towards the living room window, because you knew for a fact you'd see Soojung pressed up against it.

“This is all new for me.” Seokjin admitted, sat opposite you as you waited for your dessert. “I haven’t been on a date for years.”

To say the night had gone well would be an understatement. At first you’d been too nervous to even breathe, especially with Seokjin looking like that just a few centimetres away from you as he drove. It didn’t help that he seemed to be some type of regular at the restaurant, getting greeted as if he was an old friend of the manager and led to his ‘usual’ table; a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle. It turned out he co-owned the place with his brother, looking mildly embarrassed as he told you. It was cute, but he had nothing to be self-conscious over, this was his life, normal to him. I hope you don’t see it as a cop-out, he confessed, causing some confusion your end. Why would you see it that way? This restaurant was beautiful, certainly popular, and you couldn’t wait to try the food. You told him as much and he laughed about feeling nervous now.

You tried lobster for the first time ever – his recommendation. It was kind of messy, but he ordered the same so you were both in it together. You laughed, you joked, you got to know one another more. Conversation came easy, both relaxed in one another’s company, and after the main you both decided to share a dessert, too stuffed for anything more.

“Snap,” you grinned, silently happy that was the case, although rather amazed. Seokjin was, well… him, who wouldn’t want to snap him up? However then again, he was a busy, divorced father. Dating probably wasn’t high up on his list. You were so distracted by his confession, you didn’t even comprehend he’d used the word ‘date.’

“Really?” Seokjin’s eyes bulged slightly. Why was he so surprised?

You shrugged casually. “It’s been well over a year since my last date.”

Seokjin’s mouth curved, amused. “Try over ten.”

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you laughed, but yes, he indeed had you beat.

He laughed along, the arrival of your lemon cheesecake interrupting you both for a moment. It was a few bites later when the conversation got back on track again, Seokjin’s tone careful as he looked across at you, both of you reaching for another bit of the cheesecake with your dessert forks. “You don’t mind me calling this a date, do you? This isn’t the part where you tell me you’ve been in a relationship for five years and you just thought this was an innocent thank you dinner?”

You giggled softy, shaking your head. “No. I don’t mind you calling it a date.” You brought the fork up to your mouth, taking your time to chew before you continued. “Soojung was adamant it was but I… didn’t want get my hopes up?” You wanted to be honest. This night was about opening yourself up to the uncertain.

“Soojung, your best friend? The one you live with?” He asked.

You nodded. You’d already told him all about your best friend, about how you lived with each other. Seokjin hadn’t bat an eyelid, which was nice. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but the differences in your living arrangements were stark. He thought it sounded fun. He still remembered living with his best friend Namjoon back in college and how entertaining that had been. He’d definitely be up for it again if they weren’t both dads now – divorced at that, but hey ho, that was life.

“Well, she was correct.” Seokjin continued. “I thought I made it clear but I guess I was too cryptic.”

“So, which one is it?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow in interest. “Not an innocent thank you dinner or not an innocent dinner?”

You were feeling brave, however your heart still thudded inside your chest, adrenaline whooshing through your veins. There was something about Seokjin that made you act so out of character…

Seokjin failed to conceal the visible surprise across his features and you watched him swallow before he composed himself, a smirk appearing on his lips immediately. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were flirting with me right now.”

You shrugged. “I’m just checking if your intentions are innocent or not?” You took another bite of the cheesecake.

His smirk grew, and you watched him drop his fork onto the plate to lean back in his chair. “I would say they are, however, I did have plans to kiss you on the cheek tonight, so maybe, busted?” He chuckled then, at himself – he liked doing that you’d noticed. It was kind of cute.

The butterflies were back. Now there was no need to ignore or try to explain them. You took them as what they were – a good sign. Humming aloud, you tilted your head to the side and pretended to contemplate. “I think I can let you do that.”

Seokjin laughed. “You can? Okay, that sounds good.”

You reached for your glass of wine, needing a sip just to calm the flurry inside of you. Seokjin tucked his chair closer, still laughing but quietly now, more like a chuckle. “Honestly, I was pretty much shitting my pants today.”

You snorted into your glass, taken by surprise at his choice of words. “Sorry,” you apologised, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the sound that had just left your nose. He didn’t same fazed. “I was nervous too.”

That seemed to settle him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing the brim of his glass. “I guess we were being silly.” His lips parted to say something else but he hesitated. You watched him take a quiet exhale, then he continued. “My therapist has been begging me to try dating again for months but the thought has always been pretty terrifying.” He gave a small shrug, his warm eyes locking with yours. “Until I met you.”

You could feel your heart rate speeding up, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He was pleased, grinning back, posture visibly relaxing. “She said I should face up to my fears and just ask you out.”

There were a lot of thoughts whirring through your mind right now. The fact he felt comfortable enough to disclose with you that he had a therapist, and the fact that he’d even mentioned you to her, that she had encouraged him to ask you out. The fact he’d liked you enough to want to take the plunge at all. After two years of being alone, you were the woman who had made him want to try again… It felt comparable to your own thoughts, to your feelings… and that’s why you felt so relaxed tonight. It just felt right.

“I like you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I know we don’t know one another very well, but I hope that this is just the beginning.”

Despite his words sending your butterflies crazy, you kept your cool, trying to stunt your smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.”

He chuckled. You let yourself smile at the sound. “Not so bad. I’ll take it.” He picked up his fork again, taking a bite of the cheesecake you’d both forgotten about. His voice was careful, genuine to match his expression, when he carried on. “Despite the circumstances of how we met and what followed, I don’t know, I haven’t felt a spark like that in forever.” He reached for a sip of his wine, laughing. “What do you think? You can call me crazy if you want.”

“I think you’re right.” There was no doubt about it now. You’d been adamant in the beginning that was nothing there – no spark, no flirting, insisting Soojung was wrong, but now you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction. You’d immediately bounced off one another that evening during the parent-teacher meeting, despite your annoyance the day before.

You grinned. “You frustrated me to no end but I felt something too.”

He tilted his head to the left, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Frustrated you? How so?”

“You know how,” you laughed. “I may or may not have called you an exasperating bastard in my head.”

He couldn’t contain himself then, taken back and genuinely amused. “Oh god,” he practically wheezed. “I like that one.”

You laughed along, unable not to when the sound he made brought you such joy. You reached for another forkful of cheesecake, the dessert nearly coming to an end. Just like the date, you thought. You didn’t want it to end, you were enjoying yourself too much.

“What about now?”

You looked up at Seokjin, eyes widening in question. What did he mean? He was staggeringly composed now, although his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned and explained. “Do I frustrate you now?”

You tried to stunt your own smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Not tonight.”

“At the fate?”

“Nope.”

He nodded his head, seemingly happy with your answers. “I guess things are looking up then.” He picked up his glass again, about to take a sip before he paused and added, “Although, I must admit, I liked frustrating you. You look so cute when your mad.”

You felt heat immediately burn its way to your cheeks, hoping the lighting in this restaurant was dim enough not to make it obvious. He took a swig of his wine. “Watch it, Mr. Kim.” As he chuckled it muffled inside the glass.

You went for the last piece of cheesecake, figuring you were owed that now. You looked across at him as you chewed, knowing that if you really wanted this to happen again you needed to let him know. Face up to your fears of opening up, telling people how you really felt. “I’d like to get to know you better, Seokjin.”

“Really?” He sounded hopeful, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass again.

“Mmhm.” You nodded. “You seem like a lovely man if we ignore the car stealing...”

“Hey,” he whined, “you apologised for that already, you can’t bring it up again.” You held your hands up in silent defence, chuckling silently, watching him lean closer. “But please, go back to what you were saying about me being a lovely man. Stroke my ego, it’s been a long week.”

Had it? You were curious, concerned really. You thought to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but you guessed the last thing he’d like to do was discuss work on a date. Instead, you decided to tell him about what attracted you most to him. The thing that had inevitably made you change your mind and realise that maybe, quite possibly, you’d misjudged him.

“Arin really adores you and I can see how much you dote on her. Any man cherished by his child is a good one in my eyes.”

“Oh.” He simply replied, possibly at a loss of words. He looked touched – happy, but ultimately unsure of what to reply, so he bypassed it in a way, raising an eyebrow. “So is there some kind of checklist?”

“What do you mean?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Like, ‘kids like him – check.’ ‘He knows how to clean dishes – check.’ – I can by the way. I’m really good with a pair of washing up gloves and some dish soap.”

You burst out laughing, not quite believing your ears. “Yeah, okay.” You admitted. “There’s a list.” Didn’t every woman have one?

“Let’s see how I fare then.” Seokjin said, sounding sure of himself as he leant back in his seat, hands behind his head – the image of casual. Maybe you were into this cocky Seokjin… It was sort of hot.

“Okay so…” You began, leaning forward. “Family man – check.” You’d already approved that one. “Loves animals?”

He scoffed. “Easy. Animals are so much better than humans.”

Okay, more points his way… “Uhh.” You thought aloud, racking your brains. “Does he make me laugh?”

Seokjin mulled it over. “That sounds like a decision you have to make, but I think it’s a yes? I mean, you’ve been laughing all night. Unless you were just being nice.”

“No, you are funny,” you confirmed, although you were unable to miss an opportunity to mess around with him. “You have that, what should I call it,” you pretended to think, “that old man type sense of humour.”

“Hey. I’m not that old,” he huffed.

You chuckled quietly. True, he wasn’t old, but you were still surprised when you’d found out he was turning 38 this coming December. Some people were blessed with ageing gracefully. Of course he was one of them. The man looked amazing for someone two years away from forty.

“What about you?” You wondered. “Do you have a checklist?”

He sat upright again, setting his elbow on the table to drop his chin in his palm, giving you his full attention. “Yes, and you check them all.”

“I do?” You laughed in disbelief. Either he was easy to please or he wanted brownie points.

He shrugged, as if to say of course. “You’re funny, caring, can be kind of scary at times – which I’m sort of into, to be honest.”

“I’m not scary,” you protested, pouting slightly. However, what? He was into it? That made you feel funny…

He smirked. “I beg to differ.”

You rolled your eyes. “What else do I check off?”

He didn’t need time to think. “You’re insanely beautiful.” Your dumbfounded expression made him second guess himself. He pulled a face. “Yikes. Too cheesy?”

You grinned, getting a hold of yourself. “Maybe, but then again, maybe I like that.” How could you not like being called beautiful? How could you not like receiving a compliment? Especially from him.

He smiled, gazing into your eyes as he leant forward. You felt immediate warmth when his hand cupped yours across the table. This was the first time he’d touched you, right? Your mind was a blur right now, unable to recall two hours ago, let alone two weeks ago. When he spoke, you only felt warmer, the soft timbre of his voice fluttering through your whole body. “I’m really attracted to you, Y/N.”

And what could you say to that? You swallowed, wetting your throat, realising it had become dry. He was waiting for a reply, amused by something – your blank looking face most probably. He had the ability to render you speechless, and he knew it. He liked it.

Well, no, not on your watch. You’d get the last word. You’d win.

Composing yourself, you slipped your hand from under his, tapping it lightly, as if you were consoling him. “I’ve said it once already, but you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Kim.”

Taken aback, he chuckled quietly in bemusement, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me wrinkles.”

A man of his word, he did kiss you on the cheek after the date was over. He waited until he had driven you home and opened the door for you to step out of the car – ever the gentleman, you’d teased. You stood by the little gate that lead a pathway to your front door, and that’s where he’d leant down to place his lips ever so lightly against the top of your left cheek. You smiled shyly up at him, unable to play it cool this time.

He looked a little rosy in the face too, unsure as he smiled. “I had a lovely time tonight.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “Can I take you out next time?” You surprised yourself by the offer, that kiss must have shot some confidence into you.

He looked surprised too, but into it, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked down at you. “Where do you suggest?”

“My place?” Okay, so it wasn’t ‘taking him out’ but you liked the idea best. Soojung could stay over Tae’s. She owed you one. “I can cook for you,” you offered, a hand unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jacket, straightening it for him. “To you know, return the favour of you paying for dinner to say sorry for paying for my car to get fixed.”

His hand clasped around yours, dropping it between your bodies to hold it as he chuckled.

“This is getting a little confusing now.” He swung your hand gently and you curled your little finger around his loosely. You could get used to this physical contact. It felt ordinary, like you’d been doing it forever. “Can’t we just call it dating and have done?”

You rolled your shoulders with a sigh, sounding casual and unbothered. “I guess, if it’s easier.”

Seokjin’s laugh got lower, his face closer. His eyes kept looking between your eyes and lips, and you realised your heart was beginning to beat slower, or was it faster? You couldn’t tell anymore, but you could hear it pounding lightly inside your ears. You were in the middle of playing the same game – eyes then lips, eyes then lips – the seconds feeling more like minutes as he leant in closer and closer, but then –

You spotted Soojung in the window as you happened to glance behind Seokjin’s shoulder. She had now totally bypassed the voile curtain, thinking she was Miss. Inconspicuous with the lights off. The street lighting was as bright as anything though, and all you could see was her face glowing like a ghost as she ruined the moment entirely. You were not having your first kiss with Seokjin in front of her prying eyes.

Seokjin realised your attention was elsewhere now, awkwardly pulling back to scratch his neck with his free hand. You clutched at the hand that was holding yours, not wanting him to think you’d blown him off. He didn’t say anything though, just continued your conversation with a bemused smile. “Um, so what are you going to cook?”

“What do you like?” You asked, only half your attention on him. Maybe you could silently signal to Soojung, tell her to get the hell out of the window before Seokjin noticed.

“I’m easy,” you heard him reply. “What’s your speciality?”

“Uh…” Think Y/N, think. Distracted you said the first thing that popped into your head, still trying to force Soojung away with just your eyeballs. “Lasagne.”

“Lasagne?” He sounded interested.

You finally met his eyes for more than five seconds, feeling a little panicky. “Yeah, my World Famous Italian lasagne.”

Oh no.

Seokjin laughed, dropping your hand to cup your cheek instead. Earlier, if this had happened you would have spontaneously combusted but now you had a case of the Nosey Friend and you couldn’t concentrate to save your life. “Okay, now you’re just talking big.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes attempting to dart past his shoulder again. He noticed – he’d probably noticed this entire time, an eyebrow of his raising. “What is going on over my shoulder?”

You tried to stop him, clinging to his elbow, but he turned around anyway, eyes falling on Soojung immediately. You saw her instantly panic and jump back, dropping the curtain in front of the window again. “That’s just Soojung,” you sighed. “Ignore her, she’s an idiot.”

Seokjin was deeply amused, laughing as he turned back to you. “So, is next Saturday okay?” You pressed.

He grinned. “Saturday sounds perfect to me.”

As you said your goodbyes, Seokjin turned to the window and gave a small wave, chortling to himself. You couldn’t see Soojung anymore but you just knew she was still spying. But relieved Seokjin didn’t seem fazed, you made your way inside, giving Seokjin a wave by the door as he pulled off, feeling happy, yet a little sad the night was over already. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d enjoyed yourself like that.

It was only when you were inside did you remember what you’d just done, too preoccupied to think properly beforehand. Oh God, the lasagne. Saturday night was going to be a disaster.

Soojung came running into the entry way, interrupting your freak out. “He saw me! He saw me!” Her voice was shrill, and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed or excited.

“That’s what happens when you spy, idiot,” you swiped, kicking off your heels. The instant relief brought you no comfort. “Soo, I’ve done something stupid.” You admitted.

She instantly looked worried. “What? What have you done?”

You sighed, already feeling like a fool. “Okay so, I invited him over next weekend and said I’d cook for him.”

“Girl is horny for that D–”

“Shut up, that’s not the problem,” you stopped her. She looked puzzled. “You were distracting me!” It was all her fault. You weren’t taking the blame. “He asked me what I was gonna cook and I told him I make a World Famous Italian lasagne!”

Your best friend was silent for an extended second, making sense of your words before she burst out laughing. Highly dramatic, practically doubled over, splitting her sides. Even more dramatic than you for freaking out over a damn lasagne.

“You have never made lasagne in your entire life!” She exclaimed. “What were you thinking?”

“It was your fault!” It was also her fault you didn’t get to kiss Seokjin properly too. But you weren’t going to bring that up now, unable to bear the constant teasing that would ensue.

“My fault?!” She laughed. You just rolled your eyes. She did not appreciate that at all. “Whatever. I can’t wait to see your “World Famous Italian lasagne.” Make sure to save me some, won’t you?”

“Right,” you huffed. “For that, I’m not telling you how the date went.”

She soon changed her tune, needing all the details just to be able to sleep tonight…

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#jin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :)

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends.

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier.

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier.

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off.

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go.

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure.

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.”

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.”

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side.

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated.

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?”

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip.

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?”

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.”

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].”

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously.

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape.

#hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #tw religion #tw christianity #long form #tw customer service #tw blood #tw violence

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riversofmars · 2 years

Text

Songs of Love - Day 16

Prompt: Height Difference

Rating: Explicit

Summary: There are some aspects of Liv’s friendship with Molly that she’s never thought to share with Helen, casual and long past as they were. Helen however connects the dots when her girlfriend wakes up hot and bothered in the middle of the night.

My Kind Of Woman

“Okay that’s it, I’ve had it!” Liv exclaimed angrily as she marched into the living room at 107 Baker Street.

“Did you get it to work?” Molly asked hopefully, watching her from the sofa as she marched in. The foul mood she was in pretty much answered her question but she was polite enough to inquire anyway. Liv had been in the basement trying to fix the heating for hours, she was covered head to toe in grease and dust, and clearly had had limited success.

“Did I- NO. I didn’t bloody get it to work. 1970s heating is a- We got to call the landlord or-” the med-tech raged as she tried to wipe grease and sweat off herself with a tea towel.

“The Doctor is the landlord,” the nurse pointed out and Liv groaned, annoyed.

“Then whoever you call in this time to repair your heating! It’s bloody freezing and there is no hot water and-” She threw her hands up in the air.

“You don’t look that cold to me,” Molly observed as she looked her up and down. The med-tech’s skin was flushed from both anger and effort.

“Well, I’ve been trying to fix the bloody thing for hours and can’t even have a shower now!” Liv scowled.

“Would you like me to help you wash up?” Molly shot back with a smirk, half-joking to distract her from her annoyance, half - well - not. The thought of peeling the dirty clothes off the med-tech appealed rather and they had precious else to occupy their time.

“I-” She had certainly succeeded on the first count as Liv forgot all about her annoyance. She just stared at her friend.

“Well, you got yourself into a right state Dr. Chenka,” Molly pointed out and approached her. “So the heating is broken. Big deal. I’m sure we can last a couple of days without it. Find other ways to keep warm. What you need to do is relax,” she hummed knowingly. The med-tech was on edge and tense and she had several ideas about how to resolve those issues. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the sound of it.

“I- I don’t do relaxed,” Liv stuttered and instinctively took a step back, and then another as Molly continued to advance towards her.

“Maybe you should start,” the nurse pointed out with a knowing smile.

“Molly… What are you…” The med-tech knew that look, the look of someone who saw something they liked and decided to take it. For a moment she thought she had managed to fix the heating after all as the temperature in the living room seemed to have jumped.

“We could have a game of doctors and nurses…” Molly smirked and, suddenly, Liv’s back collided with the wall as she couldn’t retreat any further.

”A- What?” She had no idea what her friend was talking about but her actions were quite clear. The nurse smirked at her as she leaned in close.

“My, my, Dr. Chenka, for an intelligent woman such as yourself you are quite slow on the uptake,” she hummed and Liv found her throat had suddenly gone very dry. She couldn’t speak, she just stared at her for a moment, a moment of tense anticipation between them and it was Molly that took the plunge.

She grasped the opportunity and the med-tech with both hands. She grabbed her hips, pressed her to the wall and kissed her. For a moment, Liv stopped being able to tell up from down, she just about managed to find the nurse’s shoulders to hang on to. Her body responded instinctively before her brain had caught up with what was happening. She kissed her back, parted her lips, and Molly took advantage and encouragement from her eager response. She pushed her tongue into her mouth and her thigh between her legs. The med-tech groaned into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around Molly’s neck and pulled her closer.

“Get out of these dirty clothes,” the nurse husked, pushing up her top and Liv nodded in agreement. Molly pulled the shirt off and brought her lips to the side of the med-tech’s neck. She ran her hands down her toned stomach to the waistband of her jeans.

“Molly, are you-” Liv wanted to ask if she was sure about this but the words died on her lips as she trailed kisses up to her ear.

“Can you think of anything better to pass the time? We will be here a while yet. Might as well make the most of it,” she hummed and a smirk was audible in her voice.

Liv couldn’t think to protest. Her head was spinning and Molly was already easing her jeans down her thighs while trailing kisses along her collar bones and across her chest. The med-tech ran a hand through her hair and wiped the sweat off her forehead but to no avail. She was running hot and it had everything to do with her friend crouching down to help her out of her jeans.

“You can always tell me to stop,” the nurse pointed out with a smirk, though she knew full well Liv Chenka wouldn’t be able to say anything in a few moments time. She leaned forward and eased her legs further apart to settle between more comfortably. She trailed kisses along the insides of her thighs and Liv bit her lip, doing her best to suppress a throaty moan and not quite managing.

“Fuck- Molly-” The med-tech squeezed her eyes shut and buried her hands in her friend’s hair. She lost her train of thought when Molly reached for her underwear.

“Oh shit- bloody hell- fucking-” Liv clasped her hand to her chest as she awoke with a start.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Helen mumbled sleepily beside her. Her arm snaked around her middle and gave her a tug, bringing her closer in an effort to make sure she was okay.

“Fine, yes, all good-” the med-tech replied, willing her heart to stop racing and her head to start spinning. Rationally she knew she couldn’t be held accountable for her dreams and yet she felt a sting of guilt as Helen - her girlfriend! - nuzzled into her side and pressed a reassuring kiss to her shoulder.

“God you’re so hot,” the linguist observed drowsily and Liv was already wiggling out of the covers. Her t-shirt was sticking to her with sweat. “What sort of dream have you been having?” There was a teasing quality to her voice, despite her sleepiness. Helen knew her very well by now, she knew what arousal looked like on her.

”I-” The med-tech didn’t want to lie, of course, but she didn’t necessarily want to burden her with the truth either. So much had happened since she had stayed with Molly at 107 Baker Street, it almost felt like a different life! She still thought of her from time to time but she had made her peace with what had happened, just as Molly herself had been at peace with her choice. Now, Liv had no idea why her brain had brought back things she had almost forgotten about. Not because they had been forgettable - oh no - they had had a lot of fun in a carefree casual sort of way. Friends with benefits as one might call it. For a moment Liv wished Molly could have met Helen. She was sure she would have approved of her. Theirs was a relationship that extended far beyond friendship and the occasional shag when the mood struck. Liv loved Helen deeply and guilt closed up her throat.

“Seems like you were having a fun dream,” the linguist hummed, almost teasingly and Liv’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. It would have been one thing if she had been dreaming about the woman beside her, she would happily have rolled over and carried on where her dream had cut off, but this was uncharted territory. She didn’t know how to handle the situation. Would Helen want to know? She knew of Molly of course but that part of their friendship - casual as it may have been - was not something she had thought to share.

“I- I don’t even know why-” Liv dropped back into the sheets, she covered her face with her hands in an effort to calm down, and she gasped, surprised, when suddenly, her girlfriend’s hand found its way between her thighs where her shorts had turned wet.

“How about you tell me what it was about? Maybe we can see it through,” the linguist suggested in a husky voice, more awake now, as she climbed on top of her.

”Helen, really-” The med-tech’s cheeks burned with embarrassment but her words of protest were cut off by a passionate kiss. Helen has grasped her chin and angled her head up and claimed her mouth. Liv realised - and not for the first time - that she liked a woman who could take charge - much like Molly had been able to. She felt another stab of guilt.

“Humour me,” Helen insisted hotly against her lips and snaked her hand inside her shorts. “Come on, I won’t get offended,” she carried on and her smirk was audible, even as Liv squeezed her eyes shut at the maddeningly slow dragging of her fingers through her wetness. “It wasn’t me you were dreaming about, was it?”

Liv’s eyes flew open.

“How do you know-” Liv exclaimed, shocked, and pushed herself up onto her elbows and Helen off of herself. The linguist laughed but not unkindly, as she perched in the space between her legs.

“Molly?” She quoted and the med-tech realised she must have uttered her name in her sleep.

“Oh-” She gave back, deflated as the guilt settled back on her after the initial shock.

“Relax, Liv, I trust you,” the linguist reached out and grasped her hand.

“Good, because there is nothing… She was a friend, like I said before! We may have had a brief fling but nothing… it was casual! We weren’t in love or anything, not like-” Liv felt the need to justify herself regardless, to explain, to make Helen understand that she was the most important - the only! - person in her life. Past or present.

“Liv, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise,” she gave back kindly and then asked: “So what was she like? Your friend Molly?” She moved to lie beside her again and encouraged her girlfriend to settle down as well, to tell her, if she was willing, about another part of her past. Liv shuffled down and rested her head on her outstretched arm as she conjured up her memory of Molly.

“She was good, kind, brave,” she answered as she considered her accomplishments and her sacrifices. Even after all this time, she wished she had known her for longer, shared in more of her life, but large parts of it she had played no part in. She had been there at the end, though, and that she was grateful for, as grateful as she was to Molly for what she had done. “Bit like you,” Liv mused and looked over to her girlfriend in the twilight. Helen also had a self-sacrificial streak, she had proved as much by flying a TARDIS in the Resonance Engine and by travelling for forty years, forfeiting her life to save Liv, the Doctor and the people of Salzburg. The med-tech’s heart swelled with pride as she couldn’t believe her luck, to be able to call such a wonderful person as her, her own. And she thanked her lucky stars that none of her sacrifices had been final. Unlike Molly’s. “She was, perhaps, a bit more brash than you,” she considered and grinned at the comparison of the brisk nurse and the well spoken linguist. “She was a good person.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Helen smiled kindly. “But I do have to ask, do you - perhaps - have a type?” There was a teasing quality to her words now and Liv immediately regretted the comparison but things were only going to get worse: “What did she look like?” The linguist inquired curiously.

“Uh, well-” The med-tech blushed when something occurred to her that she had never really considered before.

“Liv?” Helen prompted, clearly realising that she was stalling. Liv knew she couldn’t lie to her girlfriend and even if she tried, she would see through her immediately so, begrudgingly, she opted for the truth.

“She may have been blonde… and tall…” she mumbled without looking at her and Helen rolled onto her side, leaning over her with a wide grin.

“You do have a type!” She smirked, using her height to her advantage as she hovered over her. It wasn’t difficult, Liv was slim and short. “I mean, Tania was tall too!” The linguist continued, clearly having no qualms about bringing up more of her past.

“Well-” The med-tech blushed but couldn’t think to mount a defence, not when she had to admit that her girlfriend had a point. It certainly explained the pull in her gut she got every time Helen pushed up her chin to kiss her. It explained why she relished being in her arms, held close. And it explained why she struggled to think when Helen hovered over her, imposing and demanding, like a predator about to devour its prey. Things always became obvious in hindsight.

“Do you like your women towering over you?” Helen smirked, sensing she might have found a sore spot.

“Helen, really, you don’t have anything to worry about, I love only you and I don’t know why-” Liv felt like she had to make her assurances, otherwise she might end up regretting it. Her girlfriend certainly seemed intent on having her fun with this new found weakness.

“You’re adorable when you blush,” the linguist hummed and pressed her lips to her throat, and then, her teeth, which made her girlfriend gasp and groan.

“Helen-” Liv looked up to her and she couldn’t keep her voice as steady as she would have liked, or less needy, as her hand reached back into her shorts.

“Must have been some dream,” Helen mocked as her girlfriend instinctively moved her hips to meet her hand, demanding more she was only too willing to give. She grasped her free hand into her hair and pulled her head back, just as she buried her fingers inside her.

Liv gasped and the linguist grinned against the soft skin of her throat where she pressed her lips once more. She could feel her pulse quickening and she held her head close by her hair.

“Don’t worry, Liv, I’ll look after you,” she mumbled to the shell of her ear. “Just be sure it’s my name you moan.”

#Doctor Who #fanfiction #liv chenka #helen sinclair #femslash #molly o'sullivan #height difference #past relationship #dream #liv x helen #liv x molly

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years

Text

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering.

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask.

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows.

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fanfiction #hoedecker club #hoedecker cult #tdatt fanfiction #my writing #fic title so wrong #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

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purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

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meigh-day · 3 years

Text

Meet Cute (Tendou x F!Reader)

Title: Meet Cute

Pairing: Tendou x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2.1k

———————————————————–

"I can do this..." You mumble to yourself, eyes focused on the single page menu in your hands. The words scrawled across the page wanted to seem familiar but only a couple managed to find their meaning while the rest just sat there taunting you. Maybe choosing to eat out was a bad idea. It had been only a couple of weeks since you'd uprooted your whole life and moved to beautiful Paris. Sure, your apartment wasn't the prettiest or the biggest and yea maybe not actually speaking a word of French prior to moving wasn't the brightest idea but you couldn't say you regretted the decision. Not yet anyway. A kind looking waitress approached your table, pen poised to take your order as she spoke to you. Her words came quick and left you staring up at her with an awkward smile while she stared at you, expectantly at first and then confused when you said nothing.

"Oh... uh... un moment..." Is all you finally manage to stammer out in your very limited French. She sighs a bit but nods and disappears back inside, leaving you to stare a bit longer at the menu as you worry your lip between your teeth. With a sigh you place the menu flat on the table. Resting your chin in your palm as you stare out at the bustling street before you. People wandered by, laughing with friends, arms full of shopping or flowers, hands intertwined as soft words passed between them. It seemed familiar in a way, watching others pass by on their way to or from some place. Yet, that familiarity only seemed to make you feel all the more alienated, amplifying that feeling of loneliness that was starting to creep up on you. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, your train of thought derailing immediately after as you realize someone was talking to you and you'd absentmindedly acknowledged them.

"Ah, sorry!" You sit up, turning your attention towards the source. An amused smile greets you as a pair of sharp red eyes catch your own. For a moment you sit stunned, mind stuck on one word: pretty. A short chuckle brings you back and you clear your throat as you try to think of something, anything to say to this stranger. "Uhm... Ah... P-pardonner monsieur." You offer up a stammered apology, though you aren't sure if you are sorry for not hearing what he said or for deciding to grace this café and the city with your inadequate French. Both maybe?

He laughs and shakes his head before pointing to the seat across from you as if to ask permission. You nod, offering him a somewhat nervous smile as you watch him take a seat. He was tall and thin with the prettiest red hair you had ever seen. He squints his eyes at you a moment before plucking the menu from the table and reading it over. With nothing else to occupy your attention, you watched him, curious why he had decided to approach a complete stranger.

"Hmm, do you like sweet stuff?" He questioned, eyes peering at you from atop the menu, not a hint of French accent in a single syllable.

You smile and nod, humming in affirmation before your eyes widen. "Wait... You speak... You're not..." A sigh of relief passes your lips as you relax in your chair, grateful to not have to stammer and stutter through the minimal French you'd managed to remember. The red headed man snickered at your obvious relief, hiding his smirk behind the menu.

"Geez, you poor thing. I admire your courage."

"Courage?"

"Yea. I didn't try my hand at dining out for like the first 2 or 3 months." He lowered the menu, his smirk now visible to you as he placed the menu back down on the table.

"Oh, heh, yea probably not the smartest move. It just smelled really good and my stomach overruled my brain."

He nodded, almost as if to say he understood the feeling before glancing back up at you. "I know we just met and all but do you trust me?" He taps the menu as he asks, indicating the reason behind his question.

"I might be inclined to trust you a little more if I knew your name..." You chuckle, watching his eyes widen in the realization that not a single word of introduction had passed between you. The smirk that had been on his lips is replaced by a sweet smile, his squinted red eyes soften as his whole express shifts from that slightly mischievous one he'd been wearing to a rather warm one.

"Ah, yea. It's Tendou, Tendou Satori."

Several minutes later, introductions now over and your order placed by the very gracious man before you, you two sat chatting back and forth. Both curious what had brought each of you to Paris, almost equally as unprepared. You found out Tendou was attending school to get his associates degree in bakery and pastry arts with the intent on training to become a chocolatier after. You stared at him, eyes wide with excitement as he spoke very animatedly about his latest project.

"But yea, not super exciting or anything." His own excitement dwindled a bit, nervousness settling in as he realized he'd been prattling on about himself for the last ten minutes.

"That sounds incredible!" You finally say. It had been so fun watching and hearing him talk about something he clearly loved.

"What about you?"

"Me? Ah..." The main reason you'd come to Paris was school. Well that's what you told people when asked and it was true. Though you couldn't deny to yourself the underlying reason for moving halfway across the word was to get away from your family. They had wanted you to stay local, go to college and work at your uncles company when you graduated. What a nicely planned future, all neat and packaged with a bow. It wasn't what you wanted though and you expressed that on many occasions. In the end you decided that if you were going to go to school for what you wanted you might as well do it as far away as possible while you were at it. Not wanting to unpack any of that though you gave him a very watered down version of why you'd come to Paris.

Tendou could tell as you spoke that something was missing from your story. Maybe it was the way your eyes shifted around as you spoke, or the stiff smile on your lips, but it was clear to him you maybe weren't telling the whole truth. Though considering he was more or less a perfect stranger, he couldn't fault you for that. Just as you were wrapping up your food arrived so any further talk regarding your coming to Paris halted in favor of eating whatever deliciousness Tendou had kindly ordered.

"Ah, that was so good." You breath out happily, leaning back in your chair in an effort to alleviate the fullness in your stomach. Tendou gave you a wide grin as he set his empty cup down. "I did a pretty good job guessing at what you'd like then?"

"Mhm!" You agree enthusiastically. "God knows what I would have ordered if not for you. So.. uh..." You sit up a bit, fixing your eyes on him as your smile softens. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He shakes his head, waving off your gratitude. "Nah don't worry about it." The waitress comes back around and leaves the bill, just the one, but before you can even think about how to fix this, Tendou has paid for the both of you.

"Oh no you don't have.. "

"Consider it a welcome to Paris gift." He stands and smiles down at you before slowly turning, a bit of reluctance in his step.

This was not how you had anticipated your lunch going. If anything you thought you might order something, hopefully delicious but at the very least edible, in your awful broken French and then go home. You couldn't fathom you'd end up meeting someone so kind and generous, who you maybe also thought happened to be the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. Yet you had, and now you were sat in your chair like a complete idiot watching his back grow smaller and smaller, he'd be lost in the crowd by now if not for his lovely hair.

"What am I doing?!" You harshly mutter to yourself as you stand, grabbing up your jacket and bag before breaking out into a run.

Tendou chewed on his lip as his feet carried him away from the small café. It wasn't like it was totally unusual for him to talk to strangers but he'd never just invited himself to eat with a complete stranger, pay for their meal and then leave. Yet here he was, having done all that, though the latter was being done rather reluctantly. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back to you. You'd only spent the better part of an hour together but he was curious about you. There was something that had drawn him towards you. At first he thought he'd gone to you out of the desire to help, and that was part of it to be sure, but maybe there was more to it. Sure your wobbly French had drawn him over but that wasn't why he stayed. Was it the way you had smiled up at him? Or was it the way you sat and listened to him ramble on with actual interest? Perhaps it was the gentle look on your face when he'd caught you staring off into space. Whatever it was, it had his already slow pace halting.

"Tendou!" His eyes widen at the shout of his name, turning to see you waving at him as you run, reaching him a moment later half out of breath.

"Miss me already?" He jokes, watching as you lean down, bracing your hands against your thighs while you attempt to catch your breath. He isn't kept waiting long as you stand upright, a nervous chuckle finally coming out in response to his initial reply.

"Kinda, yea."

"I-- uh... What?" Tendou falters as he tries to process what you just said, not trusting his ears.

"I know we really don't know each other but it seems like such a shame to just... ignore this."

"Ignore what?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"This!" You state as you frantically motion between the two of you. "I mean what're the odds we'd even meet. Besides, I don't know about you but I don't really know anyone around here and it'd be really nice to change that..." You end with a shrug, starting to second guess this whole endeavour as you watch Tendou stare down at you. His dark red eyes were wide at first, surprised that you had even bothered to run after him but even more so that you wanted to be...well friends or at the very least friendly. His look of surprise softened a moment, a smile on his lips before he narrowed his eyes at you, a glint of mischief in them.

"Sounds pretty suspicious to me but I suppose I can show you around or whatever." His smile widens, almost curling at the ends. "But it'll cost ya."

"C-cost me?" Oh no, maybe this was a bad idea. Perfect stranger remember?! "W-what?"

"Whoa now." He chuckles, holding his hands up in as if the action would ward off whatever dubious thoughts were drifting through your mind. "Just your number... It'd be pretty hard to show you around if I can't get a hold of ya."

"Oh... OH, yea right." You nod, cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. You pull out your phone and enter his details, not really sparing him a glance, too mortified by the assumptions that had sprung to mind.

"I'll text you so you have my number too." You mumble as you type a short message and hit send. A moment later you hear a ding and Tendou pulls out his phone.

"Ah, is that the time?!" He practically yells as the screen lights up, his carefree smile replaced with panic. "Shit, I gotta go!" He offers you an apologetic smile before hurrying away, leaving you a little startled by his sudden departure but overall happy with the outcome. Your grin down at your phone only to see it light up as it buzzes in your hand.

(02:37pm) Y/N: Hey it's Y/N :)

(02:41pm) Tendou: You Free tomorrow?

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #tendou x reader #tendou fluff #tendou #tendou satori

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holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight · 3 years

Text

Hothead

Summary: Extended station scene from 1x03 between Carlos and TK, from Carlos' POV. A snapshot of how they started to mend things between them after TK had stormed out on the date that Carlos had tried to spring on him.

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: I do not pretend to know anything about the inner workings of a police station, their rules and regulations or what sort of things are contained in their reports. Tried to be as realistic as I could but apologies for any inaccuracies.I also do not claim any ownership of 9-1-1 Lone Star or the associated characters. Pretty sure they own me instead... (:

First foray into the 9-1-1 fandom but hopefully not the last!

Read on AO3 here.

* * *

Carlos was flipping through the files on his desk, making sure he had signed off on the last of them, when a familiar name being spoken caught his attention.

"TK Strand, yeah. He's a firefighter with the 126. Guess he got a little hot-headed."

"You can't keep reusing the same joke every time something involves a firefighter, Ben, seriously."

Carlos looked up from his desk to see two of his colleagues ribbing each other, all talk and no malice.

Jill was right – Ben liked to reuse the same heat-related jokes about firefighters, but his curiosity was peaked over the implication in regards to TK.

"What's that about one of the 126 firefighters? Did they get hostile at a scene we were at or something?"

The two cops looked over at him in surprise. He wasn't normally one to join in on gossip.

"Nah, he was off duty. Started a fight at a bar. Provoked two built men that were drunk off their asses. Bartender called it in after security tried breaking it up."

Carlos felt his worry double. What was TK doing? Why was he picking a fight? He knew he had freaked out on him the other day, making it clear there was a lot more going on internally than he was letting on, but volunteering to get pummeled? That had to be a cry for help.

"EMS clear him?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just some cuts and bruises. He's cooled off now; just gotta process him, give him back his shit, and do the usual stern warning that means bull."

Carlos seized the presented opportunity, hoping Ben would take the bait. "Hey, if it's that easy, why don't I take over? Your shift just ended and I owe you for staying late when I had my abuela's birthday to run to. I've finished the last of my reports from that three car pile-up earlier, so I'm free."

"Well, me and Ella were supposed to do date night tonight… yeah, all right, Reyes. He's all yours. Thanks, man."

"Of course. Have a good time." Carlos said, trying to play it off casual, like it was no big deal, even though he was itching to corner TK and ask what the hell he was thinking. He didn't need his coworkers knowing details about his private life so it was better they didn't know he knew the guy more intimately than professional overlap.

"I think you still owe Spencer, Reyes. Pretty boy is easy on the eyes, even if he is an idiot who started a bar fight." Officer Porter teased.

Carlos didn't bite; the station knew he was out, at least most of them did, so it wasn't that weird of a comment. Reacting would only make it obvious that something had gone on between them and he didn't need a lecture from the sergeant on duty about professional conduct or bias.

Ben passed over the folder on his way to his desk. Carlos immediately sifted through it, scanning the pages quickly to learn the basics of what had gone down.

Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, athletic build. 0.0 BAC on breathalyzer test. No abnormalities on basic toxin screen. No prior records with APD. No registered fingerprints in American database. New York driver's license – Tyler Kennedy Strand. Firefighter identification lists station 126. Charges of assault and disturbing the peace dropped by others involved. Release from policy custody with warning.

He read further through the other two men's files, piecing together that the story detailed matched what he had already been told.

Carlos looked up as another one of his colleagues led a handcuffed TK to his work desk and nodded in his direction. He accepted the plastic bag of TK's belongings from Jill and headed over to his… well, he didn't really know what they were.

He watched as TK held an ice pack to his temple, the odd cough wheezing out of him. He probably had a bruised rib or two, if not fractured, and it no doubt left his chest extra tight.

Carlos strode over and dropped the plastic bag of belongings onto the desk without a word.

TK looked up and groaned at the sight of him. "Seriously?"

Carlos grimaced as he sat down. "Austin's a small town, TK. Or should I say, Tyler Kennedy."

"Ugh." TK grumbled, eyes closed as he kept the ice pack against the side of his head.

"Bummer about getting arrested – people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I've learned about you."

Being good with his mouth, hands, and body notwithstanding…

"Isn't your processing me, like, a conflict of interest?" TK asked, a thin shred of hope clinging to the words.

It wasn't really an issue, given that Carlos hadn't been the deciding officer on charges and, technically, he wasn't even sure what their relationship could be classified as in order to consider it. If anything, it would be their definable working relationship that was the issue, but most officers in the precinct would have the same problem since they all crossed paths at one time or another on the job.

Carlos chose not to answer him, instead changing the subject. "The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight…" he explained while unlocking the cuffs around TK's wrists, trying not to react when their hands brushed in the process. "…and since you blew a 0.0, we're not even giving you a drunk and disorderly."

He finally freed TK entirely of the metal, and TK rubbed his wrists, still not looking at him straight on.

Carlos pushed the bag towards him. "You're free to go."

There was a pause as TK digested that.

"And what's the bad news?" he asked as he picked up his stuff.

Carlos inhaled. "The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head." He swallowed before leaning on the desk to bring them closer together, lowering his voice so any nosy coworkers couldn't overhear. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you're not into it, but you should probably talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal."

TK's eyes held so much pain as he looked back at him that Carlos had to look away. Needing something to do with his hands before he grabbed TK and refused to let go, he tossed the tissue box in front of him.

"You've got a little crud there, by the way." he added, gesturing to the side of his mouth.

TK plucked a tissue out and rubbed at the opposite side of his mouth to where the blood had piled up.

"Other side." he said, staring unblinking at the computer screen without taking any of it in. He was way too hyperaware of the man he hadn't been able to get out of his head to concentrate on the words on the screen.

TK wiped closer to the spot but still missed and didn't get the bulk of it, so Carlos sighed and grabbed a tissue of his own.

"Stop. Just… let me."

Deep green eyes bore into his brown ones as Carlos gently wiped the area, managing to get at least the worst of it. Their gaze was locked so intensely, Carlos was half-expecting sparks to explode in the air. God, he wished he could read TK's mind. There was some sort of storm brewing behind his eyes and Carlos had no idea what kind of emotion was rolling in.

He pulled the tissue away, crushing it up in his fist to stop him from saying or doing something stupid. He had already put his heart on the line enough with the man. No need to solidify his humiliation any further.

"Thanks." TK muttered, looking away finally.

Carlos didn't look at him, pretending to be wrapped up with finalizing the paperwork on the computer.

TK leaned over the desk, crossing an arm over the space between them. "Hey. I'm sorry I went crazy on you the other night." he said softly.

Carlos didn't want to reveal all of his cards, but there was no denying the thrill that rolled through him that TK was trying to apologize for what went down between them the other day. It had been eating him up inside since. And if TK was bringing it up unprompted, maybe that meant it had been bothering him too. And that he actually wanted to mend things between them.

Carlos managed to play it cool and indifferent. "I'm a cop. I'm used to crazy."

"Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed."

Carlos had turned his body to face him but couldn't look him in the face, instead busying himself with a report on his desk. "You mean with me?"

Great, he was just a mistake. A 'relapse'. Guess that meant TK slept around, or used to, and it really had meant nothing to him.

"No. I mean with substances."

Carlos finally looked up at that. He wasn't expecting the confession, nor the way that TK was exposing himself to him right then. TK had addiction issues? Had given up substances likely due to misuse or overuse and his breakup had been bad enough to trigger using again?

Something clicked in his memory from the other night and he felt shame wash over him. "Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne."

He had never asked if TK was even a fan of champagne or alcohol in general. He should've been more respectful and anticipated the idea that maybe TK had a poor relationship with it, or a bad experience, or just wasn't interested in it at all. No wonder he got his back up right away – Carlos had been trying to have a proper date with him but he didn't know this important thing about him. And TK was still probably pretty raw after his relapse that even the pressure to be polite would've been enough to set off some ugly emotions. That he'd have to come up with an excuse or lie, because who wanted to reveal their deepest secrets that early on?

"I'm such an idiot. I'm-I'm sorry…"

TK cut off his stammering. "No, it's fine, okay? I just… ever since I got here, it's just… it's just grey. And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just… I wanted to feel something."

TK's eyes were wet now, and there was nothing but heartbreaking honesty reflecting out of them.

Carlos felt his own eyes filling with moisture. He didn't know what to say. Hearing that TK had been hurting so badly, that he still was struggling so much… it broke his heart.

TK slipped his wallet and phone out of the clear bag finally and stood up to leave, heading in direction of the exit without another word. It seemed he had said all he needed to say.

Carlos couldn't let him go yet, couldn't let that be the last thing said between them tonight. "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK stared at him in irritable disbelief, the barest hint of amusement at the edges. "You really busting my balls right now?"

"Yeah. I suppose I am." Carlos replied.

He couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, and he felt his heart pick up its pace when he saw TK's expression break into one of his gorgeous smiles.

TK shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "And all this time, I thought you were too good for me."

It was clearly meant in jest, but Carlos could detect the hidden truth behind the words. He was a little too stunned to say anything to dispute it, their easy banter normally coming naturally to him but he was drawing a blank.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Carlos moved, and then he was crossing the station to chase him outside.

"TK! Wait."

TK turned from where he was walking down the sidewalk, his movements more ginger now than they were in the station. He likely was in a lot more physical pain than he had let on.

Carlos stood in front of him and inhaled a breath in the hopes that it would instill some courage in him.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that couldn't have been easy. But I want you to know, it doesn't change anything for me. I still want to be with you. Whenever you decide you're ready. I…" He exhaled shakily, glancing down at his shoes as he tried to dig for that bravery somewhere deep inside him. "I really like you, TK. Not just because you're the best sex I've ever had. I… there's something here. I feel it when I'm around you. You're… you're special. You make me feel… so many things I don't know how to name yet."

Great, now he was rambling. Even better, making it clear how much of a lovesick fool he was over the guy. That wouldn't freak him out or anything.

He corrected his throat, trying to calm his anxiety. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you feel anything for me, I can be patient. I can wait until you're more ready. I think you're worth the wait."

TK's responding smile could outshine the sun. He wasted no time in coiling his arms around Carlos' waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I really like you too. And I do want to give this a shot. Just… when it has a better chance of not blowing up before it gets started."

Carlos pressed a quick kiss to his good temple before pulling back.

"For now, try to stay out of trouble, okay? You won't always be so lucky to get such an understanding cop like me processing you at the station."

TK blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a laugh. "I'll do my best."

Carlos couldn't help grinning at him, a much bigger fan of a laughing and teasing TK than a shattered and beaten one.

"I should get back. You gonna be okay to get home?"

TK nodded. "Yeah I already called a ride."

"Well, see you later then." Carlos said, not really sure how to be less awkward as he headed back up the stairs to return to the station.

"Hey, Carlos?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Best sex you've ever had, huh?"

TK was sporting his cockiest grin, and Carlos wished he could kiss it off of his stupid smug face.

"You would pick that as the only takeaway from that whole speech…"

TK chuckled. "No, I remember it all. I just latched onto that because it was the same for me too."

Carlos took an extra second to process and then he felt himself flushing in pride.

TK's smile softened, no doubt reading his reaction even from several feet away. "Goodnight, Officer Reyes." he said cheekily as he moved towards the car marked with the Uber sticker that had pulled up.

Carlos could only watch as the car drove off into the night.

He felt a little bereft being apart from TK after all the honesty of the evening. Something about being so vulnerable together gave him the urge to be within close quarters, not wanting to give up the resulting rush that came with exposing your heart and having it be safe with the other person.

But Carlos knew that TK needed time. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.

For now, he returned to his desk, this time with a little more of a spring in his step.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #9-1-1 lone star #911 ls #prompt #s1e3: texas proud #canon compliant #tw: mentions of past drug addiction #tw: self esteem issues

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

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, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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