#the last chapter will be up next Saturday promise!!!

[world-of-aus]

Off The Boards

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: More Angsty Dialogue. Still on that perhaps a turning point?

Author's Note: Chapter 4 is here and i apologize for the delay but life caught up and tripped me up on the ice friends! I hope you enjoy this one, part five is in the editing phase and should be released on saturday, thank you all for your patience.

Montreal greeted the staff and team with a brisk chill and dull skies, the kind that whispered winter but didn’t quite commit. You arrived early, as you always did during game days. You preferred the quiet before the chaos, it gave you time to check your lighting, frame your shots, and walk the empty rink with fresh eyes. 

Camera in hand, Bruin's jacket zipped up, you moved through the bowels of the Bell Centre like you belonged there. You checked your list, adjusted your aperture, and lined up a few rink shots. You caught a reflection you liked off the plexiglass and moved closer to capture it. 

Click. 

The muffled thump of gear bags and voices echoed down the corridor next to where you stood working, the team bus had arrived. The players making their way in. 

Your grip on the camera tightened for a second - only a second - and then you were moving again, rounding the corner toward the locker room hall as players filed in. 

"Hey Y/n," Sam Wilson called as he passed, still in his sweats and beanie. “Lighting good here or do I need to stand in a flattering pose for your lens again?” 

You snorted shaking your head with a smile pulling at your lips. “Please don’t. Last time I had to edit your smirk out of half the media reel, I get you're a fan favorite but c’mon Sammy Etsy sellers have enough of your face to last them over 2 years they don’t need anymore.” 

“What can I say baby, the face sells.” he grins as he continues past you knocking his fist against yours. 

The players start filtering through after Wilson, most of them used to your presence now; some pose, some ignore you and your camera choosing to be all business as they make their way to the locker room. They were game ready. You chatted briefly with two rookies that walked in towards the end promising to capture more of their time on the ice then giving a nod to the equipment manager as he passed you a smile on his face as he held you to a promise to kill it out there. 

Bucky filtered through last. 

He stepped into her frame without hesitation, helmet tucked under his arm bag hung on his shoulder, his head down in focus. 

You barely blinked, seemingly unaffected as you lined yourself up adjusting the focus as you snapped two quick shots like you would with any other player that made their way into the arena. 

“Morning Barnes,” you said, “good luck out there.”  

His eyes flicker to you, the faintest pause as he takes you in, the smallest tilt of his lips kisses the corner of his mouth. “Thank’s y/n, you too.” The silence didn’t stretch between the two of you as you let your camera drop softly back to your chest, a nod of your head as you turned on your feet to head to the ice. 

The arena lights blazed down in cold white rows as you crouched low by the boards, lens trained on the ice. Warm-ups were always her favorite part especially on games that took the team away from home. It was fast, chaotic, full of energy and unfiltered emotion as if they were warming up the ice to be made just for them. This was where she caught the good stuff: candid grins, effortless strides, players nudging each other into motion like a storm gathering force. 

Your camera moved on it’s own, your hands simply holding it in place as it tracked the players, click, shift, adjust. 

Sam Wilson flew past you first, carving the ice with a wide grin. He slowed just enough to flick a puck your way. It tapped the boards harmlessly beside your boot, you shook you head. 

“You gettin’ my good side, Hot Shot?” he called out with a wink, flipping his stick up as he turned. 

A grin pulls at your lips as you lower your camera. “Pretty sure that’s subjective Wilson.” 

Sam laughed, skating backwards now. “That why you always cut me from the highlight reel?” 

“Oh come on, I do not cut you, I only post the stuff that sells,” you shoot back. 

Sam clutches his chest like you’ve wounded him. “I’m going to remember that hot shot, when you need the good i won’t be there.” 

Laughter bubbles past your lips, the moment rolling past you, light and familiar. It was the kind of banter that kept you grounded.  

Across the ice, Bucky was stretching near the center line, helmet off, eyes up. 

You didn’t look at him for long, just long enough to note the tension in his shoulders, the way he moved a half-second behind the rhythm of the team. 

You wondered if he had heard it.  

Your camera rose again like a shield, fingers quick and practiced as you continued to document their warm-ups. 

“Good pace today,” you said aloud, stepping toward the boards where Wilson and another forward were sprinting drills. “Watch that backlight off the glass, it’s flaring your helmet like a disco ball.” 

“Noted,” Wilson said, grinning as he skated by again. 

Behind you, a heavy presence hovered. Not close enough to touch, just enough for you to feel it. To feel him. 

Bucky. 

You didn’t turn, didn’t give him a moment, or a spared glance as you continued to work. You made you way around the rink edge, trading nods with the players as they skated through the remainder of their drills. Your camera caught the flick of blades, the spray of ice, a half-laugh between defensemen after a missed pass. You loved these moments; where skill and personality bled together on the ice. 

You crouched for a lower angle, capturing the sharp lines of Sam’s stride as he cut across the neutral zone again. The perfect shot; for as much as you teased him his imaged were always clean, strong, and centered. You reviewed it for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. This would make the reel. 

“That the money shot?” Clint Barton, one of the coaching assistants, asked as he passed. 

“Could be,” you said, eyes still on the viewfinder. “We’ll see what I get during faceoff.” 

“Classic Y/L/N,” he grinned. “You always make us look better than we are you know that? Team would be lost without you.” 

Pride fills your chest, heat slamming into your cheeks, “I do what I can coach.” 

As you straightened, a flash of gold and black caught your eye. Bucky, skating a line near the far blue line, shoulders squared but his face unreadable. His movements were clean, disciplined—but something in the way he held himself gave him away. 

He was aware of her. 

Not in the obvious way; not staring, not watching. 

But in the way his pass missed by an inch too far. The way his glove adjusted more than necessary. 

You lifted your camera again, framing the team in a wide shot that included him, but didn’t center him. 

Just as you were about to move on, Sam passed close again and nudged her foot with the edge of his stick. “Listen, If you ever need a new assistant, I got a good eye for angles.” 

You laughed. “Your angles are half the problem Wilson.” 

He barked a laugh, then nodded toward the far line. “Looks like you got someone trying to figure out your angles.” 

Y/n didn’t follow his gaze, you didn’t have to. “I’ve already figured mine out.” you said returning to your work. 

Behind you, Bucky looked away first. 

The puck dropped with a resounding clack, echoing through the Bell Centre like a starting gun. 

You were already in motion, eyes sharp behind the lens, fingers steady on the shutter. You moved along the edge of the rink, always a step ahead of the action. The energy in the building crackled with opening night tension; Bruins versus Canadiens, a rivalry steeped in blood, sweat, and grudges. 

Perfect for photos. 

You kept your focus broad during the first period, shooting wide frames of the full ice, catching the arcs of skates slicing through the surface, gloves flying mid-check, mouthguards flashing in shouts. The players were dialed in; fast, aggressive, alive. 

You were, too. 

Every time Bucky touched the puck, the crowd reacted. A swell of anticipation, of curiosity, he was new to the team, but the name Barnes carried weight. Especially here, where the fans knew their hockey and their headlines. 

You tracked him like you would anyone else. Clean passes. Good positioning. A near miss on a one-timer in the first five minutes. Your camera caught it all but you never lingered on him longer than necessary. Once upon a time you might have followed him more, lingered a bit longer – but that was before, this was now. You refused to give him more frame time than he earned. 

“Great pace tonight,” Wanda’s voice crackled through Emma’s earpiece during a pause in play. “You getting the hits on three?” 

“Already sent to the cloud,” you replied, adjusting your position near the Bruins bench. “Just keep me updated on angles.” 

You knelt down again, shifting her lens toward a pile-up near the Canadiens’ net. Two players slammed into the boards; one of them was Bucky. You winced, heart pitter pattering away but your lens stayed focused. The shutter clicked rapidly as you caught the impact, the shift in his expression, the flash of instinct as he pulled himself upright and skated back into the play. 

He was in it now; you knew that look from the many times you had been in a position like this before. 

Near the second half of the period, Sam Wilson skated toward the bench, helmet off, sweat streaking his brow. As he grabbed his water bottle, he looked your way flashing you a tired grin. 

“Tell me you caught my assist on that last rush.” 

“I did,” you grin. “But I was more impressed by your trip into the boards.” 

“M’telling you y/l/n when you need footage you won’t find me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Your camera’s got no mercy.” 

Your grin grows. “Neither does the ice.” 

The two of you exchange a familiar smile before Sam skates back out onto the ice. 

Bucky glanced toward the bench in that moment, his eyes catching the tail end of your smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look tightened something in his jaw as he looked away and back into where his gaze should have been. 

As the second period ticked down and Bucky picked up speed through the neutral zone, streaking past two defensemen with alarming ease, you felt it, that shift. 

That undeniable magnetism that had once pulled you in so easily. 

The way he skated like the ice answered to him. The way he passed; a flick of the wrist, precise and fluid. The way he read the game two steps ahead. It had always been like this. 

It had always made you look harder, track him quicker with the lens of your camera. 

You didn’t let your fingers falter. 

Not even when the second period opened with a bang quite literally, as Bucky body-checked a Canadiens winger against the glass hard enough to rattle your lens. This time you didn’t flinch, instead adjusting your setting and continuing to capture the second period. You didn’t let your heart run wild with the moment, didn’t let yourself think about how you used to know what it felt like to see that intensity up close without plexiglass between them. 

Still, your eyes flicked to the ice, narrowing in on #14. 

Bucky skated away from the boards, expression unreadable beneath his helmet. Focused. He had always been like that game face on, eyes straight ahead, the weight of everything else tucked away behind those sharp, storm-blue eyes. 

Once, he used to grin after a play like that. 

Once, he used to glance toward the stands to find you. 

You used to wave from the rails, camera lowered, mouth curled in that smile only he got. 

Back in the early years, before scouts, before contracts, before the Boston spotlight they used to talk about moments like this. He used to tell you how he could feel the difference when you were there. 

“It’s not luck,” he told you once. “It’s you. When you’re watching, I move better.” 

You’d laughed and rolled your eyes back then, called him dramatic. 

But he meant it. 

And now here they were, sharing the same rink again. 

Just not the same universe. 

You caught yourself lingering in the memory and quickly snapped back to your settings, adjusting for low light as the puck was cleared down the ice. You moved to a new position just as a flurry of activity broke out in front of the Canadiens’ goal. Bucky was in the thick of it, jostling with a defenseman, stick down, fighting for position. 

He didn’t score, but he looked good. 

You tracked his next shift more carefully, not for him, you told yourself - but for the photo. The photo that would sell, the one the fans would want. 

He was a story. You were just here to tell it. 

Still, when he skated past your section of the boards and his eyes flicked toward the camera, just for a split second – like he knew you were there - your grip tightened. 

You didn’t look away, but you didn't look too long either. 

By the third period, the game had slowed. The score was tied. Both teams were tired, the hits heavier, the skating messier. You stood to stretch your back near the Zamboni entrance, one hand on your hip as you scrolled through a batch of burst shots. 

Behind you, the Bruins bench buzzed with tension. Yells, stick taps, adrenaline high. 

You lowered the camera to your side for a moment and watched the ice with you own eyes. 

And there he was again. 

Gliding across center ice, hair damp beneath his helmet, jaw set with that quiet fire he used to wear in parking lot arguments and post-practice confessions. 

You used to love him like that; too much, too fast, too deep. 

And he let you. 

Until he left. 

You exhaled slowly, shifting your weight as a fresh line change sent Bucky back to the bench. He didn’t look at you this time, didn’t need to, you could feel him. The memory of him tugged at the corners of your mind like a half-healed bruise. 

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t slip. Wouldn’t fall into nostalgia or let your professionalism crack under the pressure of proximity. 

Still, it was hard not to remember what it felt like to skate with him late at night, just the two of you and a frozen pond. 

Hard not to remember the first time he kissed you halfway through a snowball fight, laughing with frozen breath and wind-burned cheeks. 

Hard not to remember the way he held you after he told you he was leaving. 

I’ll find you again. 

The memory was quicksand, and you shook it off fast 

You didn’t need promises anymore, you needed consistency. 

And so far, he hadn’t earned that, not yet. 

You raised the camera again just in time to catch a near goal. The shutter clicked and clicked and clicked, and you locked Bucky in a frozen frame that would’ve made the cover of any magazine five years ago. 

Now? It’d just be another file in the archive. 

You were okay with that. 

Mostly. 

The final buzzer echoed through the arena, followed by the hollow thud of sticks on the boards and the low roar of the crowd. The Bruins had edged out the Canadiens in a gritty 3–2 win, and the energy walking off the ice was electric. 

You moved with the team, camera already slung across your body, capturing quick moments as players headed down the tunnel. High fives. Sweat-soaked relief. The subtle exchange of glances between teammates who’d battled tooth and nail for sixty minutes. 

You stayed back, keeping your distance, tucked into the shadows behind the media line. Your job wasn’t to be seen. It was to catch what others missed. 

And still, he found you. 

Bucky exited the ice last, helmet off, curls damp and curling at his temples, jaw clenched tight. His gaze scanned the corridor, sweeping past the line of reporters, past the assistant coaches until they landed on you. 

Your fingers twitched on your camera. 

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t smile. Just met your eyes with something you couldn’t name; quiet, steady, heavy. 

You didn’t flinch. 

Didn’t look away. 

Just lifted the camera and took the shot. 

The shutter clicked once. 

A clean, sharp frame. 

And then you dropped your gaze and turned on your heel, heading down the hall without a word. 

You were sorting through images backstage when Wanda appeared, arms crossed, a knowing look carved into her face. 

“I saw the stare-off,” she said. 

You didn’t look up. “There was no stare-off Wands.” 

Wanda snorted. “Right. It was just two people communicating wordlessly in front of a live audience.” 

“Exactly,” you replied, dry as ever. “Very professional I’d say.” 

You flicked to the next image, and your breath caught. It was the one - that one - Bucky looking at you like nothing else existed. 

Your chest ached for a beat too long. 

Wanda stepped closer. “You good?” 

“Fine Wands,” you said quietly, but the lie was old and transparent between them. 

Wanda didn’t push, her comforting hand falling to your shoulder as she squeezed gently “I’ll catch you back at the hotel, you owe me dinner.” 

The hotel hallway was quieter now, the buzz of the game’s aftermath starting to settle into the usual travel routine. The distant hum of the elevator, muffled chatter from players still in the lounge, it all felt like background noise to you as you made your way back to your room. 

Just as you reached for the door, a voice stopped you. 

“Y/n.” 

You turned, your breath catching slightly in your throat. 

Bucky stood a few feet away, his broad frame leaning casually against the wall. His hair was still damp, and the faint scent of ice rink coldness lingered on him. He wasn’t looking for an argument, wasn’t bracing for anything. He simply looked at you, really looked at you for the first time since they’d reconnected. Though to be fair, he’d been looking since he first caught wind of you, but this time he saw what you had become, what you’d built without him at your side. 

Your heartbeat skipped a little, but you fought it back. You couldn't afford to let your emotions rule. Not yet. 

Bucky cleared his throat and stood a little straighter, his voice low but genuine. “I wanted to say something - something I should have said a long time ago.” 

You raised an eyebrow, uncertain, as you stayed silent yet waiting. 

“Your shots,” he continued, his eyes briefly dipping to the camera still slung across your body. “They’re incredible. Your work, y/n. I’ve seen it in the photos, but watching you tonight how you move, how you catch the moment, it’s different. It’s you now. I don’t think I ever told you how proud I am of you.” 

Your heart skipped in your chest. You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were lost. 

“You’ve built this life on your own. Even after everything. Even after I was gone, you found a way to make it work. I can’t imagine what it took to get here. But you did it. And you didn’t need me for that.” 

He stepped closer, and for the first time, you didn’t step away. You simply stood there, taking in the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t here to apologize. He wasn’t here to fix anything. This was something else. This was him acknowledging you. 

You swallowed hard, your gaze softening just a fraction. “Thanks, Bucky.” 

A long beat of silence followed. Neither of you knew what to say next, but there was an understanding that didn’t need to be spoken. You could hear the weight in his voice, the weight of regret, of missed opportunities but it was layered with something more. 

He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, not yet. But he was trying. 

“I see you, y/n,” Bucky said, his eyes still locked on yours. “I see how far you’ve come, and it makes me proud to see the woman you’ve become. Even if it took me too long to realize it.” 

You let out a breath, your chest heavy, but you didn’t look away from him. Your voice was quieter than usual, but firm. “You’ve changed, too, Bucky. I see it too. But just because I see it doesn’t mean I’m ready to let go of what happened between us. You’ve got a lot of work to do if you want me to believe you’re not the same person.” 

Bucky nodded, accepting your words with the same quiet understanding he had when they first met tonight. “I get it. I’ve got a long road ahead. I’m not asking for anything from you right now except maybe this.” He stepped even closer, his voice soft but determined. “Let me try. Let me prove that I’m not that guy anymore. That I can be who you need me to be. Even if we have to take it slow, even if we’re just strangers for a while.” 

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. You had expected the same thing: the need to rush forward, to fix everything in one moment. But this, this was different. 

“I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep,” he added, his voice thick with sincerity. “But I will show you. One step at a time.” 

You paused. “I’m not ready to forgive you. Not yet. But I can see that you’re trying, Bucky. And for that - thank you.” 

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even nod. But there was something in his eyes, relief, maybe, or hope that softened the edges of the tension that had hung between the two of you for so long. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said quietly, before turning to leave. 

You watched him walk away, your heart feeling heavier than it had in hours. You weren’t sure where this would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were losing yourself. 

Maybe… 

You let the thought hang in the air, knowing it was too early to decide anything but giving yourself permission to wonder. 

[rusalka52]

Tell me I’m pretty

↝completed

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Once news about your upcoming date with Sirius hits Hogwarts every one of your friends seems to be against it. The morning of your date is here and you can’t seem to calm down.

cw: Sirius is a bit of a liar, blood-purist attitudes, mention of period typical homophobia

4.3k words

A/N: This chapter was meant to be them going on the date but I realised it was going to become way too long so I decided to split it into two parts. I’m halfway done with the next part but I wasn’t going to be able to finish it all today and I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting any longer. I hope you guys enjoy this (slight filler) chapter and don't forget to like, reblog, comments etc. etc. and let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list!!!!

You have witnessed Regulus Arcturus Black scream a total of two times throughout your seven years at Hogwarts. The first time was when he was knocked off his broom by a bludger sent his way by the Hufflepuff team’s beater. You heard him scream as he hit the ground with a loud thud as his broom was knocked out from under him, sending him plunging down. He ended up fracturing his arm in two places. The other time was while you, him and a couple of your mutual friends were sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard. Regulus’ ear piercing shriek filled the peaceful air as he jumped out of his seat in a panic frantically patting himself. A little spider had landed on his sleeve.

You are about to bear witness to the third time that Regulus will raise his voice.

“YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” He screeches, flinging the door to your dorm room open and making you jump in fear. You were sure he was going to rip the door off its hinges from how sudden and rapid his movements were.

“Merlin, Regulus! Can you at least knock!?” You exclaim, staring at him wide eyed, clutching your heart. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“Please, for the love of Salazar, tell me that this Ravenclaw girl was chatting shit and you’re NOT going on a date with my brother.” He says, closing his eyes, rubbing his temples and seemingly doing breathing exercises to calm himself down.

“How did you even get up here?” You ask, ignoring the question.

“I let him in!” Pandora announces coming up behind him and flopping down on her bed, watching the scene unfold in front of her as if it’s a film.

“Ugh Doraaa…” You whine, looking over at the blonde who just smiles in return.

“Sorry, someone has to talk some sense into you.” She shrugs, apologising, very insincerely!

“Mate, please tell me it’s not true. Please!” Regulus begs, grabbing your attention again. You gaze up at him. He was still standing in the doorway of the dorm, white-knuckling the door knob. You take a moment to study him. He definitely looked related to Sirius. Their resting faces always betrayed their arrogance and haughtiness that seemed to almost be innate to all pure-blood families. Despite their similarities, moles littering their faces reminiscent of constellations, grey eyes, raven hair, there were plenty of differences that set them apart. Sirius was taller, slightly more handsome and his hair was a few inches longer, reaching below his shoulders with a tighter curl pattern than his brother. His hair care routine is definitely more detailed and convoluted than his brother’s. His teeth were slightly sharper and his eyes more expressive. Regulus had acne scars staining his cheeks from the amount of time he picked his face and his nails were perpetually bitten, both an obvious symptom of anxiety. His shoulders permanently tensed.

“Well?” He looks at you expectantly.

“It’s… umm, not not true!” You try to reason, averting your gaze, suddenly your overgrown cuticles and chipped nail polish became a hundred times more interesting.

“I hate you!” His voice comes out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. He closes the dorm door and sits on the bed across from yours. Regulus grips your hands in his.

“Listen to me.” You peel your eyes away from your nails and look at the boy in front of you.

“You’re a smart girl but I need to offer you some insight regarding my brother.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “He doesn’t wash his socks, he sleeps in the same dirty, disgusting, sleeveless, cropped New York Dolls shirt and boxers -most nights, sometimes NO boxers-, our poor house elf has to physically drag him away to change his sweaty sheets, and even then he yells at him, so Salazar knows how often he changes them here! Did you also know that he blasts his shitty rock music really loud every day and night? Merlin, how could I forget!? He also has pictures and posters of that ridiculous Harley motorcycle AND half naked muggle ladies all over his walls back home! That Infuriates mother because he used a bloody permanent sticking charm on them! Can you believe the twat!” The boy in front of you takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, another trait he shares with his brother, before continuing his tirade. “He will just use you to get what he wants and then leave you, you must know that! Or, even worse, he might not even show up to the date and mock you the next day. Or, Merlin forbid, you two go to that damned date at Hogsmeade and he will surely get distracted by that ridiculous group of his and he ends up ditching you in favour of hanging out with his bloody mates!!!” Regulus rants growing more and more disgusted with every word. “In conclusion, Sirius is just a repulsive, lustful teenage boy and you should not, under any circumstance, go out with him!” He finishes, getting up and leaving your dorm, not wanting to hear another word from you.

You’ve known and been friends with Regulus since second year so you were well aware that this action meant ‘do whatever you want, but just so you know, I’m right’ but you were truly hoping that this wouldn’t be the case and that Sirius would not prove his brother right.

~

“HE���S GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” Marlene exclaims in shock as she walks through the portrait hole, Dorcas, the tattle-tale, trailing behind her. Everyone who was in the Gryffindor common room had turned to look at the two girls waiting to find out who is going on a date with who. Marlene started scanning the room, her eyes finally locking on her target -Sirius- and making a beeline towards him.

Sirius was sitting on the windowsill next to the open window blowing smoke out of it, his cropped Stooges shirt riding up to reveal his happy trail and v line, while James was lounging next to him on one of the sofas, playing with his golden snitch and pretending to pay attention to whatever the History of Magic textbook was analysing. Marlene marched right up to Sirius and stood with her hands on her hips staring daggers at him.

“If you and your little girlfriend want cigarettes, go ask Remus, I'm not giving you anymore of mine.” Sirius says flippantly, not even sparing a glance at the ticked off blonde in front of him. Until she punches him in the stomach.

“What in the bloody hell was that for!?” He exclaims clutching his stomach and bending over as James snickers beside him. Marlene knew that her punch didn’t hurt, Sirius just had a flair for the dramatic.

“Why are people saying you're going on a date with that Slytherin chick?”

“Well, you’re also dating a Slytherin chick but you’re not seeing me throwing punches left and right!”

“So it IS true!? You are unbelievable, Black.” Marlene shakes her head at her friend.

“Gosh, Marlene, why can’t a boy have some fun nowadays!” He exclaims in an over exaggerated tone, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Need I remind you of how horribly you treated her in the hallways the other day? I mean frankly, I just don’t understand why she even agreed to go out with you…”

“Dearest Marlene, you’ll be pleased to find out that she asked, nay, practically begged, to go on a date with me! I am nothing short of a gentleman so, of course, I decided to indulge her.” Sirius, of course, was well aware that what he said was not true; images of him yesterday, on his knees in front of her, kissing her fingers, coming to the forefront of his mind, but the others didn’t need to know that.

“Did she actually?” Dorcas spoke up for the first time, slowly approaching the group from behind Marlene.

“Oh, she speaks! Who would’ve thought!” James comments, giggling, as he and Sirius share a mocking look. Marlene, in defence of her girlfriend, slaps him over the head, promptly shutting the taunting boy up. Dorcas always felt uncomfortable in the Gryffindor tower. She tried to keep her relationship with Marlene low-key -it being the 70s and all-, but she couldn’t help but take notice of people’s judgemental stares when they walked hand in hand, even though they could play it off as just being friends. People could always tell. It didn’t help that she was a Slytherin so there was always an underlying hatred being pointed towards her on the basis of her house. No matter how many times she visited their common room with Marlene she would always hear a hushed “what’s the snake doing here..?” always said in annoyance and disgust. Therefore, Dorcas learned to ignore all the taunting remarks

“Yeah, she practically pleaded like a puppy during detention yesterday. It was quite adorable really.” Sirius shrugs, putting out his cigarette on the cobblestone walls and tossing the butt in a trash can nearby. And this is how easily rumours and misinformation spread through the Hogwarts castle.

~

“Mate, do you actually even fancy her?” Peter asks Sirius later in the boys dorm, munching on a chocolate frog. Remus, the quiet but very necessary voice of reason, was out for the night, curtains drawn and already snoring. The full moon being a few days away always caused him to become lethargic and need more sleep than usual.

“Yeah, Pads, why are you even interested in going out with her?” James questions in a low voice so as not to wake up Remus. “I mean I understand when you just wanted to snog her at the concert, and you got your wish, but a date seems a bit too far, no?”

“Well, she’s completely obsessed with me, so I decided to give the poor girl a chance.” Sirius tries to play it off.

“But wasn’t she the one refusing you the other day, how come she changed her mind so quickly?” Peter wonders.

“Besides, you never even told us what happened at detention yesterday.” James remarks.

“I-uh, well you see,” Sirius stammers, “a true gentleman would never kiss and tell!” He briskly regains his composure trying to not expose his lie. “I just see her as a sort of challenge, you know! It would also be fun to mess with her a bit…” He continues, hoping that the boys would just drop it. Sirius is so thankful for the full moon approaching or else Remus would have definitely noticed his lie and asked him about it later. What Sirius had said wasn’t a complete lie, it was the truth, only slightly bent to fit his needs, and with a few embellishments added to conclude his bad-boy charm.

This was the first time that Sirius had ever even considered dating a pureblood Slytherin, so of course he was slightly on edge. It was something that would totally conform to everything his parents would have wanted for him to do, find a nice pureblood Slytherin girl to date, then marry, then produce an heir for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and this annoyed Sirius to no end, so of course he had to pretend that she was obsessed with him and not the other way around. How could he, the black sheep and rebel of his family, the first Black to ever be sorted into Gryffindor, the one who ran away to stay with a “blood traitor’s” family, possibly want to do something that would appease his family, maybe even make them proud? It was making his head spin.

~

Next morning at breakfast you take a seat next to Regulus who has seemingly cooled off from last day’s diatribe.

“Good morning, have you changed your mind?” He asks, flipping the page of this morning’s Daily Prophet.

You place some pancakes on your plate. “No.”

“Hm, that’s a shame.” And that’s where your riveting conversation ended. He was still bitter because of yesterday it seems.

You two eat in awkward silence for approximately fifteen minutes until your vision suddenly goes black and someone’s dirty hands are covering your eyes.

“Guess who?” You hear Barty laugh obnoxiously behind you.

“Not in the mood, mate.” You shake the brunette off and he sits next to you. Regulus’ coldness had evidently rubbed off on you making you completely disinterested in Barty’s antics. Barty, naturally, saw that as a challenge to cheer you up.

“You’ll never guess what ridiculously laughable rumour I heard this morning by some airhead Hufflepuff girls in the hallway. That you, of all people in this damn castle, asked Sirius Black, the blood-traitor, out on a date to Hogsmeade. As if!” He laughs next to you.

You and Regulus freeze up, the tension in the air, which Barty was seemingly oblivious to, could be cut with a butter knife.

“Oh Salazar, you asked him?” Regulus whines like a petulant child, burying his face in his hands.

“Wait, WHAT?” Barty exclaims, placing his hands around your shoulders and shaking you. “Tell me you’re not actually going and that you're going to stand him up!”

“Erm, well, you see…”

“Merlin, mate… Out of everyone in this castle you chose him!?” At Barty’s exacerbated sigh the three of you peer over at the Gryffindor table. You immediately spot the Marauders, which wasn’t all that difficult seeing as Peter was trying to shoot blueberries in James’ mouth, who in turn hissed and groaned, yelling at the other boy’s poor aim, every time he missed. At 8 o’clock in the morning. Remus, who was sitting next to Peter, was flipping through his copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms while sipping on his morning tea; he appeared far too exhausted to deal with the boys’ hijinks. And Sirius…well, he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them at all.

His gaze was already fixed on you when your eyes landed on him, and he flashed a blithe grin your way that instantly sent heat rushing to your cheeks and neck. He raises his arm to wave at you and you can't help but take notice of your pink hair tie still wrapped around his wrist. Despite your best efforts to resist, even biting your cheek to distract yourself, Sirius’ smile was too infectious. It wasn’t your fault, you thought defensively. How could a person possibly not return his smile? The way his sharp teeth flashed, the sincerity in his grey eyes, the-

“Oh Salazar, you did ask him…” Regulus buries his head deeper in his hands.

“You are unbelievable!” Barty barks a laugh, slinging an arm around your shoulder teasingly. You're just praying at this point that the earth opens up to swallow you whole.

“Well, seeing as these two love birds will no doubt start courting soon, we should establish some ground rules, don't you agree Reggie?” Barty carries on, talking about you as if you're not even there.

“Don’t talk to me.” Regulus takes a sip of his lukewarm tea and turns his body away from you two.

“Rule number one: You two must keep the public displays of affection to a minimum in our presence, especially in front of poor ol’ Reggie over there, he might have an aneurysm if he sees anything beyond hand holding!” The brunette turns to address you. You do your best to ignore him, biting down on your pancakes.

“Rule number two: Don’t you dare start hanging out with those Gryffindor bellends and inviting them over to our hangouts over the summer. My house has a strict ‘No Gryffindors allowed policy’ as you know.” You hum in mock agreement, a poor attempt of getting him to go back to the Ravenclaw table.

“And now most important rule of all, rule number three: We should under no circumstances leave the two of you unattended for too long, the future heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black simply cannot be born out of wedlock! Walburga, or I suppose your mother-in-law now, would have a fit! Although I’m sure a nerd like Regulus is bound to know a few contraceptive potions to help his brother-dearest out.” Regulus and you grimace and Barty in turn just grins wider.

~

“You alright, mate? You're going to break the fork in half.” James laughs at the way his friend next to him is subconsciously white-knuckling the blameless kitchen utensil in his hand.

“I just don’t like the way his arm has been around her for that long, that’s all.” Sirius says, sucking his teeth and relaxing his grip. “That Crouch boy is nothing but trouble, you know. I’ve seen him hanging around Mulciber, Avery, Rosier and that sort.”

“And here I thought you didn’t fancy this lass that much.” James drawls.

“I don’t.”

“Mhm…” Remus hums in response avoiding the raven haired boy’s burning gaze.

“I would just prefer it that the girl I’m going on a date with isn’t fraternising with to-be death eaters! “

“So you’re not jealous that his arm is wrapped around her?”

“No, Wormtail, I am not jealous.” Sirius makes sure his disagreement is noticed by accentuating his response with a hard kick to Peter’s shin.

~

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, spent in one of three locations; the classrooms, studying in the library, or sleeping in your dorm. And it was now Saturday and your morning alarm was ringing. The morning of your date with Sirius Black. Now that was a sentence you couldn’t believe you were saying. After ruminating on your clothes all week, on Friday you finally managed to pick out an outfit from your wardrobe that you liked and that was weather appropriate. You made sure last night to carefully lay out the clothes on your trunk at the end of your bed so as not to get them wrinkly and to keep them clean. The only thing that remained was to pick out your jewelry and take care of your hair and makeup. Nothing too extravagant you don’t want him thinking that you care too much about this date. He probably doesn’t, anyway.

You finally sit up from your bed and the sight in front of you makes your eyes bulge out of your skull.

“DORCAS!” You scream, effectively waking up every girl in the dorm, maybe even in the entire Slytherin dungeon.

“I hate your bloody cat so much, look at what it’s done!” The cat in question yawns, does a big stretch all over your clean clothes and jumps off your trunk with a meow, her tail flicking behind her. “You have to train the damn thing!”

“Don’t yell at Trixie!” Pandora chastises, rolling over in her bed and covering her head with the pillow.

You sit on the corner of your bed and shake your head.

“I can’t wear this now! My clothes are ruined, there are cat hairs all over them and look at how wrinkly your wretched beast made them!” You look up at your friend, tears nearly brimming your eyes. This date was making you go insane, this was not normal behaviour.

“Dear Salazar, mate, stop being hysterical, here.” Dorcas says, flicking her wand and making your clothes appear good as new. She takes a seat next to you.

“Is everything alright with you..?” Dorcas questions, patting your thigh soothingly. You take a deep breath.

“Yes.” You stand up. “Yes, everything is fine, I need to brush my teeth.” You slam the bathroom door behind you and immediately wash your face. You were working yourself up into a frenzy for no reason, for something that should not even matter to you. Just breathe.

You go on with your morning routine, finishing your makeup and hair, and you put on your outfit.

“Okay girls, how do I look?” You do a spin in front of all your dorm mates, who were sitting in a line on one of the unmade beds. They all clap.

“Wowww.”

“Beautiful.”

“Outstanding!”

You hear their voices chorus in front of you.

“Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that because we’re friends?” You ask them fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“Merlin, why are you so worried about this date? It should be Black who should be nervous, going out with a bird like you!” Dorcas responds reassuringly.

“You’re right, you’re right. Now someone please help me with the clasp of this necklace. I can’t get it closed.” In reality, on every other occasion, you could put the necklace on quite easily, but your sweaty palms were preventing you today. Your body was betraying your anxiety for this date and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Your hands were involuntarily fidgeting with the end of your skirt on your way out from the Slytherin dungeons.

“Mate, you really need to calm down.” Dorcas grabs your upper arm and squeezes it, trying to get you to relax.

“Fuck, I know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t even like him that much, he’s just a stupid boy!” You close your eyes taking, what seemed to be, the thousandth deep breath of the day.

“It’s natural to be nervous about a first date. I remember the first time I went out with Marlene I nearly threw up on the coach ride to Hogsmeade!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. But don’t worry it’s not like I’m seeing the future, I’m shite at divination, you know that.” She giggles. You two continue walking in comfortable silence until you reach the entrance to the castle.

“Everything will go great, don’t sweat it.” Dorcas hugs you.

“I know.” You reply, your answer muffled by your face being buried in her shoulder, and the pair of you walk outside.

As you make your way towards the gate leading to the path towards Hogsmeade you spot Marlene sitting on one of the benches. The moment she spots her girlfriend a smile lights up her face and she rises from the bench, walking towards you. Your eyes begin to scan the rest of the benches looking for Sirius as the two girls hug and greet each other.

“Hi, Marlene!” You wave at the blonde. “Have you, umm, seen Sirius around?”

“No, love, sorry, but I’m sure he’ll get here soon. The entire Gryffindor tower has had to listen to him wax poetics about you all week, it’s been driving everyone up a wall.”

“Really?” You question, unsure as to whether she’s saying that just to make you feel better or because it’s the truth.

“Yeah! He tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing for the first day but after that he’s been raving about you non-stop! It’s always ‘Oh Marls, have you seen how pretty and soft hair looks today and how her lipstick accentuates her plump lips, isn’t she just ravishing!? Marls, did you notice how quickly she completed her potion first today, and it was perfectly done too, she’s so smart!’ Absolute madman! I started getting sick of you -no offence- but after the twentieth compliment in a row, it becomes a lot, you know.” Heat starts rising to your cheeks. You weren’t aware Sirius was that into you.

“He was borderline worse than how Potter was with Lily, and that’s saying a lot! It was making me want to punch him in the face. But don’t tell him I told you that, he made me promise to not let anyone know” Marlene goes on, frowning and pointing her finger in your face to threaten you jokingly.

“Do you want us to wait with you until he gets here?” Dorcas asks as she looks around trying to spot the boy.

“Oh no, no, there’s no need, I don’t want to keep you two waiting, go have your fun!” You offer the girls a tight lipped smile waving them off with your hand. Marlene’s words had eased your anxiety a bit, but there was still a small voice in the back of your head that was making you squirm. Your palms begin to sweat as the pair leaves.

Your heart drops and a pit begins to form in your stomach as you glance at your watch. He is five minutes late. You agreed to meet at 11:00 and it’s now 11:05. You couldn’t help your racing thoughts. “Regulus was right, he’s not even going to show up, or maybe he’s hiding behind some tree with his mates, ready to jump out and mock me. Salazar, what is wrong with me? I was such a bloody idiot to think that he would want to be seen outside with me. I should just turn around and head back to the castle to save face and I’ll just tell people I felt ill.”

As you do a 180° turn, planning to storm back to your dorm, you run right into someone who is fastly approaching. You gasp and go to step back but you end up missing your footing and you’re about to tumble down when the person’s hand grips your own and his other arm snakes around your waist. You regain your composure standing up now face-to-face with Sirius and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry for being late, love, James is a cock and he couldn’t remember where he put my favourite cologne. And I’m sorry for spooking you.”

“I- umm, it’s alright don’t worry about it.” You just now notice that his arms are still securely wrapped around your waist, as yours are placed against his biceps, and you pull away from him.

“Shall we go?” You nod your head towards Hogsmeade, avoiding his gaze.

“Mhm.” He hums. “Let’s go.”

tags: @gastroentred @beekeepingageissome @is-it-better-to-speak-or-todie @lolalleins @azure-drag0ness

Likes and reblogs help a lot! If anyone wants to be added to tag list for the last part just let me know!!

Requests: open :D

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Prologue: Two Rings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: To celebrate taking a step forward in your relationship and moving in together, Joel charters a yacht for the night. He couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive, right?

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has a strained relationship with her parents, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, unprotected piv sex, oral sex f! and m!receiving, multiple orgasms, reader has at least shoulder length hair, food and alcohol consumption

WC: 7.7K

Series Masterlist

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

Seven days never flew by so fast.

Joel had been pacing around his house like a caged animal all morning. It was Saturday, but he still took a few work calls just as a distraction. It didn't help much. He found his hand drifting to his pocket every two minutes where a flawless diamond ring in an expensive box was kept.

A couple months prior he had woke up early with you curled up against his side. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about that day. It was a workday, he remembered that much. It was raining, which was unusual for Los Angeles. But on that day he woke up and looked at you sleeping so peacefully in his bed and it hit him out of nowhere: he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life. He had never felt more certain about anything.

He quickly ran into a problem, however. You technically already had an engagement ring. One that was used as a prop, although a very fucking real and very fucking expensive prop, back when you first met and accompanied him to Fiji. He had hired you through a dating agency that specialized in catering to higher end clients like himself. His needs were slightly unusual, however. He had wanted you to pose as his fiancée with the stipulation you weren't to breathe a word about your fake arrangement to anybody in order to win over a real estate tycoon and bid for the last parcel of land on the island.

Behind closed doors, you had your separate rooms.

It was temporary. It was only supposed to be one month and he would never see you again.

It made him laugh now to think about it. He didn't stand a chance. You had him hooked from the moment you stepped into his office with your quick wit and no-bullshit attitude. It took him a while to accept it, but once he did, he never looked back.

When you returned from the island, Joel insisted you keep the ring, which you'd worn on your right hand ever since. He went back and forth over it for weeks. Should he get you a new ring, or should he use the old one and propose to you properly?

He was going to let you decide. Either way, they were both yours, which he anticipated fielding an argument over as you still struggled to adjust to your new, lavish lifestyle with him.

As he looked out the window at the moving truck and two cars puttering up the long driveway, he wondered if he should have spaced things out a little for your benefit. Asking you to marry him on the same day you were moving into his home might be a lot for you to handle all at once. But then he saw you step out of your beat up car, one he planned to replace as soon as possible, and smiled at the excitement written on your face.

He was about to step away and go downstairs to greet you when he saw your mother and father step out of the second car. He froze for a moment, an unexpected jolt of nerves rocking through his chest. He hadn't met your parents before and when you told them you would be moving in together, they suddenly decided to drop everything and travel all the way from Tennessee to help you pack your things.

You thought it was a nice gesture given your delicate relationship with them, but he knew better. They were worried about you and they wanted to make sure he wasn't some psycho coming along to take advantage of their only daughter.

He didn't blame them one bit and he suspected he would behave similarly when Sarah met somebody one day. But he knew how he came off to people. He had a tendency to be gruff and a little cold. It was the by-product of a few horribly failed relationships, as well as years and years of cutthroat business deals. Anyone would have to be hardened to get to where he was in his career.

Still, he intended on making a good impression. These were your parents and, hopefully, his future in-laws. He wouldn't let anything screw this up.

"Honey?"

"In here, Mom!" you called from Joel's master bathroom. Your master bathroom now.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, eyes bugging out of her head when she took in the sizable room. A crystal clear glass shower that could easily fit two people, something you and Joel had already proven more than once, sat in one corner with a built in granite bench and custom tile walls imported from Italy. In the opposite corner was a massive claw foot tub that sat in front of a huge window overlooking the breathtaking ocean view from Joel's backyard. Currently, you sat on the floor in front of the double sinks built into the white marble countertop going through your boxes of toiletries.

"My goodness," your mom breathed with a hand pressed gently against her chest. "Why on earth would he have a tub right in front of a window? Anybody could see you bathing!"

"It's one sided," you giggled. "You can see out but no one can see in."

Her face relaxed and she took a step into the room, making a surprised little noise when she felt the warmth emanating from the tile floor.

"It's heated," you explained before she could ask. She nodded slowly and continued to look around in awe.

"I see."

You could hear her tone, a tone you had grown too familiar with your whole life. She wasn't pleased.

"What's wrong?" you asked, setting down your bags of makeup so you could give her your full attention. She bit her lip nervously before quickly shutting the bathroom door and joining you on the ground.

"Don't you think all this is a little... much?"

You frowned. "Much?"

"This lifestyle is what I mean. This isn't you, honey," your mom said with a soothing squeeze of your arm.

"No, but I'm getting used to it," you said defensively. "This is what Joel is used to and I love him. It doesn't bother me so much, it's just an adjustment."

"He's got a whole staff to tend to this place," she continued with a low voice. "I saw a gardener and a pool boy. Don't tell me he has a maid, too."

"Well, yeah, he does-"

Your mother's jaw dropped with a disbelieving snort.

"He can't pick up after himself?"

"He doesn't have to! He's paying someone to do it for him! Besides, he's very busy. He works long hours every day to afford all this. Why should he-"

"It humbles a person to be able to cook and clean for themselves," your mother said firmly. "It builds character."

"Mom," you whined, "it's different out here and you know it. This isn't Tennessee. Most homes have some hired help, it's just how it is."

"Well, I was just envisioning a different life for my only child, don't come for my head about it," she huffed while straightening her skirt.

"No one's coming for your head, I'm just trying to explain how people live out here. It's different but I really like it. And most of all, I'm happy. I love Joel, Mom, more than anything. And he loves me, too. He treats me well, he cares for me... he's a good man," you finished softly. Your parents never liked the idea of you moving to the west coast with your best friend, Celine, for college. It unknowingly deepened the rift between you and them that you had been trying to mend for years.

"Well, I suppose he does seem rather charming. He has nice manners, at least," she sighed. You thought back to the lunch the four of you had shared not an hour earlier, finding it surprising that your mother found something nice to say about Joel at all given the uncomfortable atmosphere. To his credit, Joel really tried. He asked your parents about their jobs and their church. He even shared some stories about himself, trying to find some common ground, but your parents hardly offered anything in return and it irked you.

"Then why were you and Dad so stand-offish during lunch?" you asked pointedly.

"We were not-"

"Yes, you were," you argued back before she could lie. "I was sitting right there. Why don't you like Joel, Mom?"

She sighed and looked around the ornate bathroom again before floating her hands in the air.

"We just aren't used to all this, sweetie. It's a lot for us. Your father feels uncomfortable around all of this... grandeur."

"Well, do you think you can try a little harder? For me?" you asked, sounding exasperated. "All of this stuff shouldn't matter as long as I'm happy, right?"

After a beat, she slowly nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to your father."

"Thank you," you breathed with a small smile. "Now, can you please help me with the last of these boxes?"

She grinned and pulled the last one over to open it up. "Of course," she said, then made a face at the way everything inside was tossed about. "You're lucky none of these things are broken. You pack like a maniac, honey."

You laughed and pushed yourself onto your knees to get a better look inside the box.

"Well, guess it's a good thing you and Dad helped out with the important stuff."

"That reminds me, the boxes for your office are still in the foyer. Dad packed all of that for you," she said while taking out a few bottles of shampoo. "You know him, properly organizing everything. He's retired but he's still labeling and sorting everything in the house like he's working a case." Your father, a recently retired police detective, always had an attention to detail. "He said your important looking work documents were all in one box he marked fragile."

"Oh, great, thank you. I think Joel's still having one of the bedrooms converted into an office space for me so I'll have to ask him where to store it for now," you said, pausing when your mother gave you a look.

"One of the bedrooms?" she repeated. "How many does he need?"

"Mom! You said you'd try!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," she said with a light laugh. Then she stood with an armful of items. "Where should I put all this?"

"That door right there is a walk-in linen closet."

You noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the spacious linen closet, but you let it go. Your relationship with them was still a little rocky and you didn't want to press the matter. She said she and your father would try to get used to Joel's lifestyle, so you had to give her time to follow through on her promise.

Your parents left for the airport in the late afternoon. After your tense conversation with your mother, you were ashamed to admit you were a little relieved that their visit had come to an end. But when you saw both your mom and dad give Joel a hug before they left, you softened up a bit, even if their hugs were a little stiff. They promised they would try and that was all you could ask for, even though Joel didn't deserve to be treated unfairly in the slightest. As their car disappeared down the winding driveway, you had visions of all the ways you could make it up to him, but then he surprised you with some unexpected plans.

"You chartered a yacht?" you exclaimed. "Why? To mark the occasion?"

Joel thought about it for half a second.

"Yeah. I wanted to celebrate," he said smoothly while sliding his hands around your waist. "We got it overnight so pack a small bag."

You squealed with delight and grabbed his face to pull him down for a quick kiss. When you turned to hurry back inside, he swatted you lightly on the ass, making you yelp and then giggle your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom.

The marina was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The last golden rays from the sun reflected off the water as you approached, spreading flashes of deep purples, pinks and greens across the horizon. Joel had insisted on driving you both himself, something that surprised you but you shrugged off, assuming he wanted to allow his driver, Richie, to enjoy the weekend.

"We have this entire yacht?" you asked, mouth agape as you approached a huge two story charter.

"Yep," he had replied, pleased with your reaction. Two crew members had met you at the car and grabbed your bags, leaving your hands free to walk carefully across the bridge to board the yacht. You smiled bashfully when the crew of eight introduced themselves, then tucked yourself into Joel's side as the captain gave you a quick tour. When he paused in the doorway of the master suite to point out all the amenities, you shot Joel a playful look and waggled your eyebrows. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes before kissing the top of your head and following the captain through the lounge and to the deck, where there had to have been what looked like a hundred candles lit on every available surface. The sight took your breath away, it was so stunning. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood and glassware that sat atop the table, already prepped and ready for you to be served once you got out onto the open water.

"Pink roses?" you said when you spotted the centerpiece as well as the decorative adornments that were peppered throughout the deck. You leaned in to sniff them and closed your eyes.

"I know you like the pink ones the best," Joel replied as he watched you look around in wonder. Then your eyes found his again and you smiled.

"When did you become such a romantic, Joel Miller?"

His heart skipped a beat in his chest when he replied, "When I met you."

While the yacht made its way a few miles off shore, the two of you found the bar inside the lounge and shared some drinks in front of the small fireplace while soft, classical music filtered through the speakers hidden strategically throughout the room. In the left corner of the room sat a white baby grand piano, sparkling but untouched. To the right was the bar, tended by a discreet looking gentleman with greying hair.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Your leg was draped across his lap and he was drawing slow circles over your calf, but his movements paused when you asked your question.

Joel grinned and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the flames to look at you.

"Glenn's yacht?"

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Yep," you said, lowering your voice so the bartender couldn't overhear. "Remember the last night we were there?"

Joel bit back a groan at the memory of you on top of him, practically begging him to fuck you, but he had refused. That didn't stop you from finding another way to drive him completely insane. Instead, you had gotten yourself off by riding his thigh. It was the first time the two of you had blurred that line from a business relationship to something more.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," he murmured. Your eyes looked heavy as you gazed up at him and it took every ounce of strength he had not to toss you over his shoulder and take you back to the master suite right then and there. Instead, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the sweetness of champagne on your tongue.

His hand drifted back to get lost in your hair when you both heard someone nearby softly clearing their throat. You pulled away and let your gaze sheepishly fall while Joel handled the crew member who had come to let you know that dinner was about to be served.

"Oops," you whispered once the they were out of sight. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest and once you stood, he tugged you against him and cupped your face.

"Don't worry. Place'll be all ours after dinner," Joel told you. He gave you a quick kiss before curving his arm around your shoulders so he could lead you out towards the deck.

"Wha - Joel! We - we can't drive this thing!"

He chuckled at the panic in your voice. "Just for the evening. They'll drop anchor and be back in the morning. I ain't gonna get us killed, baby."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh in relief. He pulled your chair out and you sat down primly, glancing down at the complicated looking appetizer that waited for you. A small smile played at your lips when you asked, "And why are they leaving overnight, Joel?"

He sat down across from you and flicked out his cloth napkin with a wink.

"You'll see."

Dinner was elaborate and rich, but you had grown used to that with Joel. You had lost count of how many courses they brought out but when a cheese plate was placed between you after the main dish, you gave him a pained look.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?" he hummed while taking a sip of red wine. Your fingers inched across the white linen tablecloth, seeking out his hand. When his own fingers linked with yours and curled around your knuckles, you smiled at him tiredly.

"This is lovely," you began, "but I'm wondering when I'll get my dessert."

"Dessert's after the limoncello," he assured you. He shifted a little nervously in his chair and adjusted his tie. His mind was elsewhere but you had no idea.

"That's not the kind of dessert I meant," you whispered. You saw the realization dawn on him and you stifled a giggle. He leaned forward, hands still intertwined, and picked up a piece of cheese. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger and as seductively as you could, slowly stretched your neck forward to wrap your lips around his fingers and the small cube, all while maintaining eye contact with Joel.

"Good?"

You nodded and swallowed. "But I know something that tastes better."

"Christ," he groaned, eyes darkening as heat began to spread under his collar. Subconsciously, his finger began to slide your ring back and forth, fiddling with it. He wanted to just ask you right then and there. Just take the thing off and put it on your other hand and say the fucking words. But he had to wait. He had a plan.

Mercifully, dessert finally arrived. Actual dessert. Tiramisu, to be exact. But you were growing restless. He could tell by the way you sighed and tugged at the straps of your dress or flicked your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck with a soft moan. You were trying to get him to break and it was working magnificently. It had him checking his watch and mentally doing the math, trying to figure out if he had enough time to fuck you before his plan was set into motion.

The crew was packing up somewhere in the depths of the yacht. The captain had just left your table after confirming with Joel whether or not he needed anything else, and the anticipation of having the boat all to yourselves was killing you. But when he stood and extended a hand, asking you to join him on the deck instead of dragging you back to the bedroom, you hesitated. He grinned and wiggled his fingers.

"C'mon. Trust me."

You did. Of course, you did. So you stood and let him take your hand, leading you out onto the deck which was alight with flameleas candles and string lights wrapped around all the railings. A small seating area sprinkled with rose petals awaited you, the sight causing your suspicions to stir.

"All this to celebrate moving in together?" you asked. Joel didn't respond. He just smiled and sat down on the plush couch, which was facing the vast, empty ocean, and patted the seat next to him. Slowly, you sat down and leaned into his side before scanning the water. The moon was full that night and blazed a bright beam of light across the sea. It was quiet and serene and had you melting into his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

"It's peaceful," you murmured. In the distance, you could hear the soft hum of a motor from the boat taking the crew back to shore. Joel glanced nervously at his watch and you frowned. Tilting your chin up a bit, you caught his eye.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin'," he said immediately in response, only furthering your suspicions. You shifted so you could get a better look at his face.

"Why are you checking the time? What's-"

"You want somethin' to drink? I can get it for you," he interrupted. Okay, now you knew something was up. His fingers were tapping rhythmically against his leg, which was bouncing so fast the deck was creaking.

"No," you said, "Joel, why are you acting-"

A loud boom muffled the rest of your sentence, which ended up being a scream, anyway. Then a flash of color appeared in the sky above your heads and you looked up in surprise. Fireworks. There were fireworks going on above you, being set off from a barge somewhere you couldn't see on the water.

"Joel," you breathed in between booms. You looked at him and he grinned. "You did this?"

He nodded and said, "Wanted to do somethin' special."

"This is too much!" But you laughed and jumped when another firework popped in the sky, undermining any scolding on your part.

Your curiosity vanished, successfully distracted by the fireworks display. Joel curled an arm around your shoulders and you sunk against him once again with your back pressed against his front. You tipped your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could watch the fireworks, completely missing the way his heart began to beat faster against your back when he reached for your hands, which were resting in your lap.

Thinking he was just holding your hand, you shot him a quick smile before refocusing your attention on the sky. Maybe it was the drinks you had with dinner, but you hadn't even realized he slid your ring off your right hand until he held it up. Your gaze dropped down to look at it pinched between his fingers and your eyebrows knit together. The huge diamond sparkled with the reflection from the fireworks, all the reds, blues, and yellows shining within every flawless carat.

"Joel?" you said quietly. So quietly that it was impossible to hear over the loud booms.

Then you saw the tremble in his hand that held your ring and your eyes widened with a slow realization: the private yacht, the fancy dinner, the fireworks... this wasn't an evening designed to celebrate moving in together. This was something else.

Joel lifted your left hand from your lap and adrenaline began to course through your whole body. Your ability to blink and breathe just... vanished. Time might have even stood still as you stared down at your hands, watching in disbelief as he carefully slid your ring onto your left finger. Then you felt his beard brush against the shell of your ear from behind.

"Looks better on this hand. What do you think?"

Tears welled up in your eyes almost immediately. You splayed your fingers out in front of you both to look at the ring on your hand, but your vision blurred and your hand shook worse than his. Then two fingers found your chin, tilting your face to the side so he could look you in the eye.

"I wanna spend my life with you," he murmured softly. Your lower lip began to tremble and your heart stuttered in your chest, but you did your best to focus on his words. "You changed everythin', sweetheart. Changed my entire life. Brought me back together with my brother, with my daughter... reminded me what it's like to enjoy life again." His own eyes grew misty when he gave you a small smile and added, "Made me believe in love."

You laughed a little and two fat tears trickled down your cheeks.

"I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you," he whispered. He was talking softly but even with the fireworks still going off above your heads, you could hear every word, almost as if the entire world melted away in that moment and all that remained was just the two of you.

His eyes looked so warm as he stared at you. They were so adoring and vulnerable. It made you want to crawl into his lap, wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. But you wanted to hear the words. You were desperate to hear the question you longed to hear, so you bit harshly into your bottom lip and fought back the desire.

Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath and asked, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, and it was like the floodgates opened. You flipped around and tossed one leg over his lap to straddle him, missing the way his face beamed with excitement when you grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. Your tongue slid easily between his parted lips, catching his groan between your teeth. When your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, you felt dampness there. Tears. Shortly after, your own streaked down your face, but you couldn't stop smiling.

The fireworks were probably coming to an end, you couldn't really be sure. You were too lost in your little bubble, perched on Joel's lap with his hands fiercely gripping your waist. You couldn't remember if it was you who started to grind your hips into him or if his hands had urged you to move. Regardless, within just a few short minutes, you found yourself dragging your pussy up and down his thigh while your kisses grew more and more urgent.

"C'mon, let's go inside," he panted while you sprinkled kisses down his jaw. When he tried to pull you off him, you shook your head and pushed your knees deeper into the cushion, keeping you both planted in place.

"No - here," you murmured before hiking up the skirt of your dress so it pooled loosely around your waist, freeing your legs to spread even wider. Joel groaned when his chin dropped to his chest, watching as you pulled your panties to the side with two fingers. You bit your lip and swiped your fingers through your folds while he nearly ripped his belt open with shaky hands. He had just unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking, when you pressed your glistening fingers against his lips. His blood was pumping so fast, he was growing lightheaded, and when he parted his lips to taste your arousal on your fingertips, his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to the back of the couch in a daze.

"Dirty girl," he rasped after he licked your fingers clean. You smirked and reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and opened his eyes so he could watch you stroke him up and down.

His hands squeezed your hips and encouraged you forward, unable to wait any longer. Fortunately, you couldn't, either. You lined him up against your entrance and removed your hand, the only sounds that filled the air now that the fireworks were over was your shared heavy breaths and the water lightly lapping at the side of the yacht.

"It's why you sent the crew away, right?" you breathed as you slowly sunk down on his cock. "So you could fuck me wherever you wanted?"

A strangled groan slipped past his lips when you began to shift ever so slightly, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him taking his breath away.

"Didn't want them to hear," he replied through clenched teeth. "Didn't think you'd - fuck - didn't think you'd be so fuckin' needy so fast."

The fact he really thought you wouldn't want to jump him as fast as possible after he proposed was laughable, and you told him so as you began to bounce quicker in his lap, gasping when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Joel just chuckled breathlessly and clutched your hips harder, helping you glide up and down his shaft.

"Ain't got nothin' to do with it. You wanted me to fuck you halfway through dinner."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you moaned, arching your back when his hips began to buck up into you. You grappled frantically at his shoulders and tipped your head back with a sharp gasp, leaving you with a beautiful view of twinkling stars above you.

With your throat exposed, Joel lunged forward to suck a red mark just below your jaw. You smelled so good and your skin was so soft that it had him sitting up straighter so he could gain better access.

"God, Joel!" you cried out into the night sky. His hands grabbed at your ass, fingers digging roughly into each cheek, forcing your body up and down on his cock while he slammed into you, knocking all the oxygen from your lungs and every thought from your brain.

"Gonna make the perfect little wife, baby," he growled, teeth scraping lightly down your jaw. Wife. The word sent a thrill through you.

"Yeah?" you gasped, eyelids fluttering as you felt yourself nearing your peak. "You think so?"

"Mhm," Joel murmured into your neck. "Love you so much, love you so fuckin' much, y'make me so happy. Just wanna spend my life takin' care of you, give you everythin' you need."

He was rambling now and a lazy smile stretched across your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered before tilting your head down to capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss.

Your hips stuttered and your moans grew more high pitched each time you dropped yourself back down on his cock. And because he knew you so well, he grinned against your mouth and murmured, "You gonna come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined in between heated kisses. Your hands clawed at his face and hair and you gasped shakily every time your clit rubbed against the curls at the base of his shaft. "Yeah, yeah I'm - I'm gonna come," you breathed, too lost in your own pleasure to say much else except repeat him, so fucking close that all it took was one or two more deep thrusts and it sent you reeling into your climax.

You tightened around him with a silent scream. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth hung open against his as your orgasm rocked through your entire body. Boneless, you drooped against him, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled you in tight against his chest while fucking up into you recklessly until he let out a deep groan and his body stilled.

"Look." Joel tapped your shoulder, stirring you back to life. You forced your eyes open and followed his gaze down where you were connected. A second later you watched as a small amount of his thick, milky white release dribbled out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

Unable to put into words how hot it was to watch yourself overflow with him, your mouth greedily found his, tongue probing past his lips with a moan.

You sat there for as long as he would allow, limp and spent while sharing wet, lazy kisses until his cock softened and he slipped out of you with a grunt. The palm of his hand was soothingly rubbing your back and you had never felt more content in your life, but when a sharp breeze drifted over the ocean and made you shiver, Joel broke the kiss and cupped your face.

"Let's go to bed."

You nodded sleepily and allowed him to lead you back into the yacht, through the abandoned lounge that still played classical music faintly through the hidden speakers, down the well lit hallway, and finally to the master suite. The bed had been turned down by one of the crew members before they left. A bottle of champagne with two glasses with a note that read congratulations! was left next to the bed, but you were too exhausted. It was a miracle you were able to wash up and change out of your clothes before slipping into the plush bedding, but you stayed awake until Joel had turned out all the lights and joined you. With a sigh, you curled up next to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder and slotting your leg between his, then finally drifted off to sleep.

The clock read a little after three in the morning when you awoke. You were in the same position you found yourself before falling asleep hours earlier: fitted snugly into Joel's side with your palm placed gently over his heart. You used the bathroom and drank some much needed water but you had trouble falling back asleep, so you perched on the bench by the window and watched the way your ring shone in the moonlight.

It took you back in time when you saw the ring on your left hand again. Memories of confusing feelings, devastating rejection, fake love stories and intense pain flickered through your mind when you thought back to the whirlwind month you spent with Joel in Fiji, masquerading as his fiancée.

But now, it was real.

Now, that lie, that story, was going to become reality.

You couldn't have been happier. After everything you had been through, all the ups and downs your relationship faced from the very beginning, you were finally going to get your much deserved happy ending.

You just wished your parents and their opinions would stop plaguing your mind.

"What're you doin'?" Joel's groggy voice called from the bed. You snapped your head up in surprise, just to find him sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Too excited," you grinned when holding up your left hand. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so he reached over to flick on one small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a dim, yellow glow, but he saw you holding up your hand and he smiled.

Joel stood and took two steps forward when he froze. Something passed over his face that had you frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I - shit!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rummaging through his suit coat, which he abandoned across a chair on the other side of the room when you came to bed. You cocked your head to the side and allowed yourself a moment to appreciate how fucking handsome your fiancé was, bending over in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered back up when he swiveled around, holding a small, black box in his hand.

"I got you a new ring," he said as he crossed the room, "I'm so sorry. Forgot to give it to you earlier 'cause, well -" he shrugged and shot you a playful grin. "Y'know."

"A new ring?" you repeated as you stood. "W-why? I have this one!"

He opened the box and you gasped when you saw the flawless cushion cut, crystal clear diamond engagement ring, which was bracketed by two smaller diamonds.

"Joel," you breathed, eyes flitting back and forth between the one in the box and the one already on your hand. "I-I can't! I can't have two!"

Joel chuckled and plucked it from the box.

"Why not? You got ten fingers."

You scoffed and shook your head, but he continued.

"I wanted you to have the option and I wanted to get you somethin' new," he explained while holding it out towards you. You stared at it, still in shock, but stopped yourself from reaching for it.

"You know..." you began slyly. Joel arched an eyebrow at your tone. "You never actually did get on one knee."

His hand dropped to his side and he narrowed his eyes.

"You want me on my knees?"

You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, and when he held your gaze and began to sink down to the ground, still clad in just his underwear, your heart began to do flips in your chest.

On one knee, he murmured your name lowly and reached for your hand. You gave him your right one and grinned when he slipped it onto your finger and asked, "Will you marry me?" for the second time.

"Yes," you whispered. You took a step forward and carded your fingers through his hair. Joel leaned into your touch and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the way your nails scraped gently over his scalp.

"I see the appeal, now," you said softly, "having a man fall to his knee like this."

"Yeah?" he rasped, opening his eyes to give you a heated look. Then his fingers drifted up your legs to push up the satin nightgown you had slipped on earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

"Get used to it, baby, 'cause I'm ready to spend the rest of my life right fuckin' here." He leaned forward, pressing his face right between your legs and taking a deep breath before mouthing hungrily at your waiting cunt through your panties. You gasped, skin tingling, and fell forward almost instantly, hands sliding helplessly over his bare back while he held you up with his hands wrapped around your thighs.

With one swift turn to the left, he pushed you up against the wall and tugged your underwear down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, spreading your pussy underneath your hiked up nightie.

His fingers dug into your skin when his mouth came in contact with your center, groaning in delight to find you already so wet and eager for him.

Joel's jaw dropped open wide, sealing his lips over your slit and running the tip of his tongue up the middle. Your vision immediately blurred and you threw your head back against the wall in ecstasy. The scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin, the feel of his fingertips dimpling your thighs, the way his hot tongue laved over your cunt all had you reduced to a trembling mess in a matter of minutes.

You wailed out his name into the room, your voice echoing off the walls and suddenly Joel's plan to send away the crew was making a lot of sense.

"More," you whined while rolling your hips as much as you could without losing your balance. The one foot that remained on the ground was stretched, perching on your tiptoes, while the other was curled tightly over his shoulder, holding him in place.

His mouth released you with a gasp and you whimpered pathetically at the loss while your fingers clawed uselessly at his hair.

"C'mon, let's move to the bed. Want you to sit on my face."

His voice was deep and gravelly and it send a shudder through your limbs.

"No, please, Joel, I-I... I'm so close," you begged, looking down at him with watery eyes. He looked like a mess: disheveled hair, wet mouth, flushed neck. He scanned your face and relented, giving you want you wanted and diving back in between your thighs.

You immediately resumed rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high while his tongue slid messily between your lips over and over, collecting the arousal leaking from your hole and flicking over your clit teasingly each time he dragged his tongue back up.

"I'm- I'm gonna come," you gasped, unable to look away from how enthusiastically he ate at you. It was such a turn on to see such a wealthy and powerful man on his knees for you, a man people not only in his office but throughout the country cowered before. But not you. No, you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

Well, two fingers now that he had gifted you a second ring.

It was the way Joel's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with a deep groan that had you tumbling over the edge. Your body bent forward with the force of your release, curving over his back with your hands buried in his hair for leverage.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered into your pussy before swiping his tongue through your slit again. Tears stung the backs of your eyes from the stimulation but you let him continue, trusting him implicitly.

There was no doubt in your mind you would find little circular bruises on your thighs later from the way he clutched at you. The thought of seeing those marks, of seeing the way he claimed you, had your stomach muscles tightening unexpectedly once again. You cried out weakly as another gush of fluid flooded his tongue, then shivered when you heard his surprised groan vibrate throughout your entire body.

"Jesus," you rasped, chest heaving, when he finally pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black in the dim lighting as he gazed up at you from his spot on the floor.

"So beautiful," he murmured breathlessly, dragging his wet lips over your thighs, kissing your bare skin and working his way up your stomach. His mouth brushed along the silky fabric of your pajamas until he reached the tops of your breasts. Once he found your warm skin again, he peppered kisses all across your chest and neck until he was finally standing upright and plunging his tongue greedily into your mouth.

His cock pressed hard and pulsating against your stomach while his tongue leisurely mapped your mouth, and your legs trembled from the idea of taking him inside your cunt again. You knew yourself. It would be way too much. You were exhausted and your muscles felt so weak, but you would be damned if you went to bed without taking care of him. So you broke the kiss, gave him a playful wink, then sunk to your knees between his body and the wall.

If he had any qualms about the change of plans, he didn't show it. He braced one hand against the wall and the other got lost in your hair when you peeled down the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. You dragged your fist up and down a few times, humming softly under your breath at how hard he was for you.

You locked eyes with him. He looked absolutely wrecked, leaning against the wall and looking down at you, jaw slack and eyes glazed over.

While still maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth wide and slid your lips carefully around his girth, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before taking him deeper. His hips shifted forward, gently pushing more of himself inside your mouth until he kissed the back of your throat. You gagged a little and pulled back, earning a chuckle from up above.

"Too much?"

All you were able to do was shake your head. Your mouth was full of him, sucking him deeper once again while taking steady breaths through your nose. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair when you began to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks with one hand still fisting his base and the other gripping his thigh for support.

"Fuck yeah, that - that's good," he moaned. Your chest swelled from the praise so you kept going, keeping a steady rhythm, sliding your tongue up and down the length of him until your lips felt numb and your jaw ached, and even then, you kept going.

"Oh shit, baby, don't stop," he growled. His fist tugged at your hair a little harder than you expected and you gasped around him. Somewhere above you, his other arm collapsed against the wall, now relying on his forearm to keep him upright while you sucked his cock with the kind of enthusiasm that had his knees going weak and his stomach pulling tight.

His hips rocked forward, meeting you thrust for thrust, groaning your name as he watched himself disappear inside your mouth over and over. Your tongue was flat along the underside of his cock when you felt it pulse and a moment later he spilled down your throat, swallowing every drop of his hot, sticky release.

He was cursing breathlessly above you while you cleaned him up with your tongue, and it wasn't until his hips stuttered and he yanked you off him by the hair that you stopped.

"Christ," Joel whispered, sagging tiredly against the wall with his forehead pressing against his wrist after you kindly fixed his boxers for him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, sucking in air fast as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oughta propose to you more often," he panted with his eyes still closed. You giggled and stood, taking his hand. His eyelids fluttered open, allowing you to lead him back to bed.

"Please don't tell me you have a third ring somewhere," you said tiredly after you burrowed under the covers and he curled himself around you from behind. He chuckled and kissed the back of your neck.

"Nah, just two."

You smiled when he nuzzled your ear, his deep breathing already lulling you back to sleep.

"Where do you think we should get married?" you yawned, yearning to just hear his voice. His fingers searched for your hand resting across your stomach and he gave it a squeeze.

"Thought we already decided a year ago," he mumbled. His lips grazed the shell of your ear when he said:

"Fiji, baby."

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[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It���s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[muzansfangs]

Il nome mio nessun saprà (no one will know my name).

Starring: The Salesman x f!reader; Seong Gi-hun x f!reader (platonic relationship); mention to Cho Sang-woo and Hwang Jun-ho;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, angst, harrassment, the reader is European (italian to be specific), use of cigarettes, alcohol consumption, death, grieving, violence, blood, stalking, slight manipulation, age gap (reader is twenty-one);

Plot: enrolling in Law School in a foreign country was decidely a risky choice to make. Still, you had no one holding you back, but a wholesome reason to leave. Your late mother had eventually decided to disclose the truth about your biological father and now you were coping with the primordial yearning of finding him. You only had his name, a photograph and the rumor he probably still lived in South Korea. You spent months searching for him in Seoul, focusing on your studies until the night veiled the sky. And it was exactly during a rather uneventful saturday night that you luckily bumped in a stranger with a tailored suit and a everlasting eerie smile on his face. Brazenly, your eyes pleaded him to save you, to give you an alibi, and he did. Something blossomed between you two. But you did not know that the very man who had pulled the strings of your heart was soon going to screw up your entire life.

masterlist | to the next chapter

[𝟎𝟎𝟏] 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞.

You had not inherited any physical trait of him. The more you intently scrutinized the old photo of that stranger, your father, the harder it was believing you were his biological daughter. Born from a wild one- night stand of your late mother and that smiling korean man, who apparently had played his cards well enough to make that sweet tourist agree to spend the night in his company, you were now wondering why your mother even decided to give birth to you, raise you alone and, above all, why she did not bother contacting him to let him know he had a daughter in Europe. Tormenting yourself with a bunch of ‘what ifs’ was pointless. It was too late to ask such questions and no one could provide you logical answers anyway. You did not feel like pressing your mother, during the last days of her life, and your grandparents had died long before she confessed the identity of your father.

All you had to do was dealing with the empiric evidence of her shenanigans: your very existence and the picture of that man.

You had grieved her death alone, keeping your promise to look out for yourself and chase your dreams. It was the least you could do to show your gratitude to her for having sacrificed her own projects and aspirations to give you a decent life, a better future. The funeral was the hardest part. No relatives were around. To keep you company and deposit flowers by her grave there were just a couple of her friends and some of your old classmates: people who you had to say goodbye to, on your way out of the cemetery. Cutting ties was the best thing to do. You left the same night for starting a new life. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep on the plane were the droplets of rain streaming over the cold glass of the window.

The first chapter of your story was chaotic. Your mother was gone, you had enrolled in the Seoul Law School and were busy searching the city for your father. You had wisely started your hunt from the area your mother had told you she had met him at. You struggled communicating with the locals at first. Most of the people did not seem to understand you, or did not give a damn iota about you. However, you were fluent in English and some of the Korean students at the Campus were helping you out. They had taught you the basic sentences to use to survive, made sure you learned which trains to take to travel around, when you were alone, and some tactics to defend yourself from the native creeps. You gradually adapted to your new life-style. Summarizing the first months of your adventure, you could proudly say it was not going as bad as you had figured on the plane to Seoul. Whilst you were making new friends and growing familiar with some areas of the city, you began to cross off from the map the parks and streets you had looked for him throughout days and nights.

Your map was painted red.

Alas, though, you also soon began to lose hope on the chance to meet your father. When you successfully engaged in a seemingly good conversation with the owners of a restaurant, or pub, you were unable to provide them more informations about the man you were looking for. His name was Seong Gi-hun, he had hooked up with your mother when he was a rampant twenty-six-years-old man with a radiant smile and he bragged about a brilliant friend of his: Cho Sang-woo.

Too bad no one seem to know nor your father, neither the smartass he had befriended long ago.

Defeated, after another uneventful night, you were dragging your feet along the sidewalk, hoping to reach the right underground line to go back to your dorm. It was two in the morning, drunk people swayed around you in the cramped streets, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol permeated the air and you scrunched up your nose in disgust, careful not to step on the sharp, glimmering splinters of the umpteenth smashed bottle on your way. Despite that, it was not like you were not used to see the same scanario back in Europe as well. What probably left you uncomfortable was most likely the fact you could still hardly comprehend the language, let alone the slang, and you were wary of your surroundings. You felt like a mouse fallen in a pit of vipers.

You had almost made it to your destination, when you turned the corner and, unfortunately, were face to face with a group of snickering guys, beers in hands, leering at any woman passing by.

Well, crap. Odds were not in your favor.

Frantically, you whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes in search for an alternative road to take. Venturing further into the unknown was just as bad as proceeding that way. You could already sense the sickening feeling of their smoldering gazes on your frame and you were one hundred percent sure some of them had already noticed you standing a few feet away from them. You usually had a good sense of self-preservation, confiding both in your knowledge and your conscience. You were already doomed that night. Why had you even declined your new friend’s invitation to a party to explore a huge city you barely knew by night and, to cap it all, alone? That was the first mistake of the night. Waves of insults to your inexplicable stupidity began to pester your mind, the moment you took a sharp intake of breath and sped up to leave that group of men at your back.

The wolf-whistles piercing your ears did not make you falter. You kept your head high, eyes directed to the sign indicating entrace to the underground. Naively, you thought those folks were merely scaring off lonely women, you hoped they had no further purpose but that. Your stomach churned, upon hearing heavy footsteps approaching you from behind. How many of them were stalking you down? One, maybe two people at best. Regardless, you refused to glance above your shoulder.

“Hey! Do you speak English?” a voice asked you, the amused undertone making the hair on the back of your neck stand in fright. One. It was just one out of five, you tried to reassure yourself. If you just kept on marching to the platform and the train made it in time, you had a good chance to give the felon the slip.

Your lack of response and reaction made him chuckle darkly and you swore your heart was desperately attempting to break your ribcage and jump out of your chest. Like Hell you wanted to die like that. All you had to do was pretending he was not there.

You had begun to tear down the stairs, when you felt his hand enclosing your elbow and his large body glueing to your hip. Invading your personal space with no regards of limits made you see red. You scoffed, finally shooting an annoyed glance at the grinning stranger, who had abruptly forced you to stop in your tracks.

“Let me go” you quipped, ungraciously wriggling your arm to get free. His grip on you only tightened and you bit the insides of your cheeks not to wince in pain.

The guy beamed, tugging you closer to him once again, ecstatic about your determination and combative spirit “Oh, so you do speak English! — he began, wiggling his eyebrows up annoyingly, the stench of tobacco in his breath causing a scowl to cross your face — Where are you from, darling? France? Germany? England?”.

You snorted, jaw clenching, as you uncomfortably let your eyes flit downstairs to spot a potential source of help from someone on the platform. Much to your dismay, there was only a sleeping, battered old man, hand clutching some money in his hands for dear life. He did not look like he even had a home. How curious was it that you were busying yourself wondering how did he even own such a conspicuous amount of money, if his clothes were dirty and tattered? He had probably robbed someone.

Or so you supposed.

“My boyfriend is waiting for me downstairs! I do not think he will be happy to see what you are doing to me” you blurted out firmly, flashing a warning gaze at your aggressor, hoping he was going to desist from pesting you further. For a split second, you swore his eyes widened, contemplating whether you were bluffing, or actually giving him a possibility to escape a beating from your mysterious boyfriend.

You truly did your best in showcasing a confident attitude. Too bad he did not believe a word you had said and nudged you to walk down to the platform, rudely spitting on your shoes “Yeah? Where’s the lucky bastard? Let’s go meet him, okay?” he taunted you, pushing you down the remaining steps without thinking twice.

You squeaked out in fear, miraculously landing on your feet and quickly straightening your jacket, as you found back your balance. You hesitantly raised your face, glossy eyes inspecting the length of the platform to look for help. A cop, maybe. But no officer wandered down the underground at that time. It was late. No one was there.

No one, but a tall man in a fancy tailored suit and a suitcase in his hand. After all, odds were in your favor. You did not have much time ponder your decision. Briefly, you studied him. He was clearly older than you, there was a chance he actually spoke English and could connect the dots at your senseless words. You had no other choice, in the end. You gave it your best shot. A shuddery breath left your lips, as you pointed at the tall man and made sure that thug followed your gaze. Lying was not in your style. However, you knew that the basic animal instinct of striving to survive was kicking in.

You smiled, genuinely even, feeling the muscles of your cheeks stretching in a loving, enthusiastic smile directed to the stranger. He had caught a glimpse of you in his peripheral. How could he not, when you had practically been shoved downstairs and had landed in such an unladylike fall? Something was off. And he knew it, he could see it in the shimmering tears prickling your eyes, when you opened your arms and snuggled against his chest, as if you two were meant to meet.

His masculine cologne ungulfed you, one calloused hand threading through your hair, surprisingly not to yank you off of him. And in that instant, you knew you were safe. A stranger had harassed you and a stranger was saving your life. You closed your eyes, reluctantly pulling away from the tall man to meet his eyes. Two dark pools of ink met your eyes, swallowing you whole as he smiled back down at you. Dear God, he was handsome. Unbelievably good-looking. Probably too handsome to be real and you foolishly asked yourself if you had been shot dead by the felon and had just landed in Heaven.

“He’s my boyfriend” you finally stated, though, bashfully pulling your gaze off of your savior’s face to meet the other guy’s gaze. The nightmare was not over yet.

Hands tucked in the pockets of his ripped jeans, he snorted, eyeing you two suspiciously. Unexpectedly, before any of you could say another word, the old man who was napping on the platform groggily stood up and stared at you in total shock.

His face was horrified, unsteady steps leading him next to the arrogant guy who had hollered at you a few moments ago. The man tried to usher him out of the station, all the while slurring indistinct korean words you failed to both catch and understand. The younger one clearly did not appreciate whatever the tramp had told him and knocked him down with a punch straight on his nose. You shrieked, hand clasped over your mouth, as the thug dashed away and stared at the bleeding man on the floor.

He was still alive, thankfully, and you began to fumble in your bag for a tissue to hand him. The man in a suit, however, anticipated you and walked towards the drunk man grumbling on the floor. Once again, the two of them cut you out of the conversation by speaking korean. This time around, though, you were able to understand something along the lines of ‘change the station, he will come back for you’.

“Can I help you somehow?” you shyly asked, intruppting them, as you watched the man wipe the blood off of his face and the tall guy turn his attention back on you.

He smiled, again. Actually, you did not seem to recall a moment he had stopped smiling. You shivered, eyes darting away from him not to expose yourself and your evident attraction towards him. He really had no reason to be that attractive.

“I should be the one asking you that. Are you alright, miss?” he inquired, keeping a comfortable distance between you two. How considerate of him sparing you the embarrassment of more unsolicited physical contact with him, after you had literally buried your face in his chest like an ostrich would with the sand. You thought he probably must have felt a great amount of discomfort at holding you in his arms protectively.

You nodded your head, glad to see he could speak English as well “I am good, thanks for asking… And for your help too. I did not mean to be a burden” you apologized, bowing your head to excuse yourself once again.

“It’s nothing. I did not have to get rid of that man, did I? — he replied casually, straighening his tie absentmindedly with his free hand — I can not help, though, but wonder why a foreign girl is down the streets, all by herself, in the dead of the night. It’s dangerous” he reasoned, his tight smile pinning you on the spot once again. Well, he was right.

Also, it was only natural for an older man to question a girl that could have probably been his daughter about her disputable choices.

“I know! I’ve been reckless… But I think young and desperate people make such mistakes, once in a while” you vaguely said, shrugging, and transfixing your gaze on the rails to avoid his cold eyes.

You did not expect the conversation to continue. You blinked skeptically, when he fed the flame.

“Desperate, you say? What troubles might gnaw at a young girl’s stomach, besides graduation and dating?” he queried your assertion, seemingly interested in your story. A late night talk with a stranger in a desolate underground was not exectly how you expected your exploration to end. He did not seem to have ill intentions. He was probably just a tired man working in a bank, or a CEO of some important company, waiting for his train to go and get some well-deserved rest. At least, that is what you thought judging from his sophisticated way to carry himself and the cocky aura he radiated.

You exhaled softly through your nose, a melancholic smile curving your lips “Well, it’s… It’s complicated. I’ve just moved to Korea. I remember wanting to study aboard since I was a kid. — you began, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, one of the habits you did not seem ready to get rid of — And I’m glad to be here, don’t get me wrong. The thing is I’ve chosen this Country because I was told my biological father lives here” you admitted, folding your arms against your chest protectively.

Honesty. A virtue to pursue, but a fatal flaw, when you meet a wolf in sheep clothing.

“I see. Let me guess, you found him and he is far from the man you expected him to be?”.

“Nothing like that. I can’t find him”.

A few seconds of silence blanketed the station. Opening up to a stranger you deemed to be a decent man was weird per se. You were aware of it. However, loneliness probably was starting to get the best of you. An adult figure to confide in was everything you needed but did not have. Maybe this was the main reason why you relentlessly searched for your father. Family was important to you.

The man hummed. The next thing you knew he was standing closer, head cocked to the side and a gentle expression on his face “You look discouraged. It is understable. — he began, the shadow of a smirk creasing his lips — How many informations you have about him?” he asked you then, causing you to shake your head and reach for his picture in your small bag.

You flipped it around, hopelessly wishing in a positive feedback, to show it to him “This picture, his name and that he had a smart friend: Cho Sang-woo”.

For a moment, you thought he actually had an answer to provide you, or a suggestion. Unfortunately, he lowered his gaze and shook his head. Obviously, you were back to the start. Pushing your luck was all you could do to solve the puzzle.

“This time around, I can’t really help you. You should probably hire a private detective” he suggested you flatly, locking eyes with you as you two heard the familiar toot of the train entering the station.

You let out a bitter laughter “Non tutti sono ricchi come te¹” you whispered under your breath, confiding your native language could somehow conceal your demotivation and financial issues. All you had was enough to simply take care of your carreer. You could not afford to pay a man to track down your father.

The sliding doors opened and you entered the train, slightly taken aback by the fact he did not. What the Hell was he even doing there? He stood right in front of you, back straight as a ramrod, hand raising to wave at you with his trademark smirk. You furrowed your eyebrows, lips parting to say your goodbye, when his reply left you speechless.

“Buona fortuna ² ”.

Colors drained from your face the moment he made it loud and clear he spoke italian. Your mortified expression might have spoken volumes, for he quirked his eyebrows up and nodded his head in your direction. When the doors closed, you slumped onto an empty seat, glad you were probably not going to meet that handsome man ever again in your life. What a disgraceful day it had been. Especially for that drunk man you had totally forgotten about, lost in your train of thoughts.

Nearly two weeks later, you were gawking at a letter in your mailbox. Someone knew your address, your name and the fact you were looking for your father. Your hands were shaking, fingertips running over the texture of the paper, nails scraping it in a comforting sound. You could not deny your head began to spin and you were forced to curl yourself up in a ball over your small bed. The black capital letters standing out on the white card in front of you were truly a manna from Heaven, but for all you knew it could have been also a letter from the haunts of Hell.

No one knew you were looking for Cho Sang-woo and Seong Gi-hun. No one, really. Not even your new friends from the courses you had signed up to were that well-informed. There was only one person who knew those name, but you highly doubted he even recalled them. And, additionally, he did not know yours. Merely thinking about that stud made a sense of uneasiness set in your stomach. You had hugged him out of no where, you had undirectly labeled him as a filthy, selfish rich man who had money to throw away. Gosh, you felt so miserable and humiliated when he had talked back to you effortlessly in your own language. He had left quite the impression on you. Then again, he did not give off the vibes of a delinquent.

Now, however, it was not the right time to daydream about him. To distract yourself from reminiscing about your mistakes, you focused on the dossier you had received.

“Cho Sang-woo, age fourty-six. Investment banker at the Joy Investments. He usually arrives at his workplace around eight o’clock in the morning”.

Well, this man was not your father. However, some informations about where to find his so-called best friend could help anyway. There was a high possibility Mr. Cho was still in touch with him and therefore he could give you his address. You wished you could thank whoever had sent you that letter, but the pacakge was unsigned. Your savior seemed to want to remain incognito. Savior. That word sound bittersweet, giving the circumstances. The mysterious person that had sent those informations had been, without the shadow of a doubt, watching you, eavesdropping your conversations, stalking you. The mere idea of someone sneaking in your dorm, when you were fast asleep, or when you were attending your classes sent frissons over your skin. You refused to even picture a hooded stranger following you around. Something did not quite make sense, though.

If you had a stalker, why was he helping you out?

You huffed, fingers running through your hair in distress, as you ultimately decided to both make good use of the informations you had received and protect yourself from any potential threat lurking in the shadows.

The following day, you were sipping on a coffee in your new friend’s car. Hwang Ju-ho, a young cop who had taken pity on you, when you had just landed in Seoul and had no idea of where to go, or how to reach your destination. He had been kind to you, even leaving you his number in case you needed something. And you did.

“Let me get this straight. You have been asking random people around Seoul if they knew your father, or this Cho Sang-woo for three months straight?” he asked you, pulling over in a still empty parking lot. The sky was grey, the drizzle was becoming a downpour and you had not bothered to take an umbrella with you. Bad decision, undoubtedly.

“Exactly” you shortly commented, head lolling against the headrest of the passenger seat. You were drained, as of late. Studying hard for learning the local language and keeping up with yours courses was consuming you to the bone. Your lack of sleep was the cherry on top. You wondered when your body was going to give up and you finally reached the infamous burn-out.

Ju-ho rested his forearms on the top of the steering wheel, dark eyes scanning the horizon “And yesterday you found an anonymous letter in your mailbox with your father’s friend data in it?” he pressed again, earning a soft hum of approval from you.

You had not revealed too many informations to him about Cho Sang-woo, except for the fact he worked in the modern building in a part of the city you had yet to visit and that you had reached out for him to help you out. You had improved your Korean, therefore you did not even need his assistance in communicating with the so-called genius of the Department of Economics of Seoul. The small picture of him, a polaroid, you had found in the package along the letter showed a distinguished man with square glasses, an impeccable suit and a cold look in his eyes. Hopefully, he was not an asshole.

You had already thought about what to ask him and how. Allegedly, you were more than ready, enthusiastic at the idea of finally having a chance to find your dad. You wondered if he was a good man and if he had his own new family. In that case, was he going to accept you in his life?

Your mind went back to that unglorious night, to the man in a suit and his question: “Let me guess, you found him and he is far from the man you expected him to be?”.

No. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Deep down, you hoped to have a heartwarming reunion with your father, one of those cliché, stereotypical scenes you had watched countless times in the movies. You had deeply craved a father figure in your life. Time passed, though, and, albeit you did not grow up with your dad, your dream to look at a man and call him ‘dad’ never diminished in you. At the end of the day, you were still the innocent little girl who asked Santa to let you meet your father. However he was, wherever he was.

To interrupt yout stream of consciousness was Ju-ho, clearing his throat “If you don’t want me to help you, why am I here? I could take care of this pretty easily, you know?” he said, leaning his back on the seat and glancing at you in curiosity.

“You are helping me. I needed a lift and someone to watch my back. You are here and this is more than enough for me to be grateful to you” you promptly said, right before you caught a glimpse of a man in a black suit and matching umbrella heading towards the entrance of the building. There he was: Cho Sang-woo, tall and confident, following the routine the snout had indicated in the letter.

You quickly exchanged a knowing look with Ju-ho, before opening the car door and jogging towards your father’s best friend. It was pouring and, in a matter of seconds, you were soaked. Your hair were stuck on your face, forehead, neck. Your clothes clinging to your body uncomfortably made it hard to speed up more.

Eventually, though, you caught up with him. His dark eyes met yours, so wide and full of hope. You were a panting mess, hands wiping away the droplets of water falling from your lashes, as he stared you down wearily. Who exactly were you? A foreigner, that much was pretty evident.

“Sir! Do you have a minute?” you started, hand already diving in your bag to retrive your father’s photo. He had no time to waste and you honestly wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Who are you? I have no money this month. I have already—”.

Money? You frowned, shaking your head, before showing him the picture of your father, tearful eyes boring into his ones, so unaffected and devoid of emotions. He seemed tense, you would have even dared to say agitated and you were blaming it on the fact he was being held back by a stranger before he could go to work.

“You’re Cho Sang-woo, right? — you asked, blinking quickly to clear your vision — Do you know this man? He’s my dad… I’m looking for him! You were friends, or so I’ve been told by my mother” you fretted to explain, perfectly knowing you were sounding like a maniac.

You did not resemble your dad in the slightest. Sang-woo gazed into your eyes, then at the photograph you were holding before him. Reading this man was impossible. He blankly stared at you, shutting you out of his head. The silence probably lasted a few seconds, before he degnified you with a dry answer.

“Go back home, kid” he dispassionately stated, resuming his walk without sparing you a glance.

But you had no home to go back to. You were looking for a place to call home, for a person to feel like home. You refused to accept such a refusal. This man could obviously help you, but he was downright choosing to ignore you. Were you so undeserving of a father?

“I don’t have a home anymore, sir! — you called after him, standing right where you were, gaze on the cobblestone — Please, I really need to find my father. He’s all I have now. He’s all that is left of… Of my family” you admitted, hating how your voice cracked upon realizing you indeed had nothing else besides the hope to be reunited with your biological dad.

Sang-woo halted, his back facing you as he seemed to elaborate what you had just said. Each second passing without an answer hurt you, so much that the droplets of water splashing on your face, on your clothes felt like boiling lava sizzling your skin.

Maybe, your life was about to change. Your destiny was all in this man’s hands.

“He already has a family. If you love your father, you should keep your distance. He lived perfectly fine without you until now. Would you really want to disrupt his peace and bear the burden of having ruined his life?” he deadpanned, before walking off with your shattered heart in his hand and leaving a desolation behind him.

The only audible sound was the rain pattering against the parked cars, over your skin, on the skyscrapers. It hurt. It hurt immensely. You wondered if, amidst the soothing sound of the water cascading steadily from the sky, Cho Sang-woo had heard a far way different sound. The horrible noise of a fragile heart exploding into splinters so tiny they could not be put together again.

Your first impulse was to chase after him, shout at his face you deserved to be happy too, that this was not his damn business. Your feet, though, did not move. They were glued to the ground, they were one thing with the asphalt. Your fingers twitched, your father’s photograph slipping through them, landing on a puddle.

The following days went on monotonously. You no longer bothered searching for him. Even if you knew Mr. Cho had no saying in your life, he had truly left you with so many doubts and, maybe, he had a point. If your father was happy, you had no right to destroy his life, his relationship with his wife and traumatize your step-siblings. All you did was studying, bonding with your classmates and, occasionally, joining them to some parties.

It was once again a Saturday night, when you found yourself in a discotheque. The famous Nb2 Club, located in Hongdae, was swarmed with people dancing. Most of them were drunk, out of their minds, fornicating with strangers. You, on the other hand, were not really in the good state of mind to drink your problems away. After a single shot to celebrate the birthday girl, you had incessantly tried to find an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, though, you had been dragged to the dance floor and you were now desperately trying to districate yourself out of that sea of tipsy people swaying around.

The neon lights in the dimly illuminated room made it hardly feasible to individuate the exit. You kept on pushing people around, elbowing your way to the stairs, until you whipped your head around and you froze solid.

This must have been an hallucination.

Or this is the lie you told yourself, when a flash of red lights flickered over a man in a suit. A man you knew. A man you did not expect to run into once again, especially in place like this. Your life was an entire circus.

You were petrified, more out of shock, than the embarrassment you had felt during your first encounter. You had thought about it for days, unable to get that stupid grin of his out of your head. You blinked, skeptically staring at that shadow, until the man was struck by the light again. You had even approached him, standing only a palm away from his towering figure, as you found out once again that he was already grinning down at you. Bloody Hell, he was really there.

Your fake boyfriend for a night. The man you had insulted, hoping he did not speak italian.

“Buonasera, signorina ³” he greeted you, cold sweat collecting in the back of your neck, as you stupidly looked up at him.

You did not even have an idea of how you had successfully heard him, but you did. Handsome as the last time you had met him, he did not have his briefcase with him, but he had opted for yet another set of suit and tie. You sighed, darting your eyes away in nervousness. You did not feel underdressed this time. Still, your choice of clothes was what your roommate had labeled as ‘dressed to kill any man’.

You were showing a lot of cleavage and your short black dress barely reached your upper thighs.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him then, careful to ignore his provocation.

“I could ask you the same question, ma’am. Hopefully, you are not chasing down your father alone again”.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing at your high heels “Fair enough. To answer your question, definitely not. I was actually trying to leave this place. My feet are stinging” you decided to say, noticing his dark eyes travelling down your form, before factually inspecting your feet.

He smiled again “By sheer coincidence, I was leaving too. I had a business meeting, but it’s concluded. Would you like for me to lead you out of here? I know about a secondary exit easy to reach” he suggested, chivalrously holding his hand out for you to grasp.

This was hazardous, but he seemed to be genuine. Just like that Saturday night. He had saved you, he had been polite. Only a little too cocky, but not mischivious. Once out, you could always call a taxi and go back to your dorm. You decided to trust him, your smaller hand gripping his delicately as you glanced at your group of friends one last time, before nodding at him.

“Please, lead the way” you agreed, a faint smile gracing your red-painted lips, as he glared at a couple of people occupying the access to a corridor and walked past them without any qualms of the possible consequences.

You just followed him, inhaling deeply as he opened a door and let you step outside first. The chilly air of the night bit your skin, goosebumps raising on your flesh as you folded your arms against your chest to warm yourself up out of reflex. You were suprisingly at the end of the line of people waiting to enter, fortunately already on the main street. You sighed, turning towards him with yet another small smile on your lips.

“Thanks. Apparently, you have a knack for saving me in different situations” you noted, bowing your head a little, as he closed the door behind himself.

The businessman straightened his back “Perhaps. — he replied, eyeing your shivering form in interest — What are you going to do now?”.

“Just calling a taxi and spending the rest of the night at my dorm”.

“A taxi? It’s pretty late. We’re at Hongdae. I don’t think there’s a driver available, miss. — he reasoned, hand slithering into the pocket of his slacks, a clinking sound catching your attention — My car’s parked nearby. I could easily drive you home” he offered, dark eyes devouring yours in a subtle dance of attraction. He was way too discreet and smooth, but you were not a fool.

He had not said anything compromising, yet he had piqued your interest and, definitely, your whole attention. The question was: did you want to play along? Probably, it was not a good idea. He was older, more than twenty years older than you. Still, he had been kind to you. He had offered you protection that night, he had helped you out of the disco. He was charming. And, admittedly, you were also touch-starved and, horribly, lonely.

But you knew he was not going to do anything for free.

You looked at your feet, nervously sinking your foreteeth in your bottom lip “Where’s the catch?”.

He tilted his head to the side, pulling his hand holding the keys out of his pocket “I wouldn’t call it a ‘catch’. But, actually, I was hoping to treat you with a glass of fine wine. Obviously, if you agree” he confessed, not batting an eye and awaiting patiently for you to make up your mind.

Wine. Alone with him.

“Where?” you asked him then, heart inexplicably skipping a beat the moment shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders and elegantly draped it over your naked ones. His cologne, just like that night, pierced your nostrils and you let out an imperceptible sigh at the comforting feeling of someone actually looking out for you.

“My apartment”.

Shit. Well, you knew the risks of following a man home. But you were young, free, with some experience at your back. Why not letting loose once ever in your life?

“And the brand of the wine?” you inquired, only for him to smile wider at you. He was effortlessly handsome.

“What about a Chianti? I’m sure you know this one”.

“Don’t make me regret it”.

You had not really paid attention to the road. He drove you safely to yet another part of the city you were not familiar with, charming you with his impeccable portamento behavior and a refined taste in music. He knew some italian words because he liked Opera.

You spent the time in the car listening to Rossini, Verdi and Puccini. Gradually, you relaxed in his presence and, before you knew it, you were sitting on the leather couch of his living room. A goblet of half-finished Chianti in your hand, you were conversing with him about your struggles to adapt to the Country.

Talking to him was easy. Too easy. Were you really that surprised you even told him about your progresses with your research for your father? Not really.

“The main issue was the language. Not everyone speaks English and… You are the only person I have met who understands some italian” you told him, watching him swirl the remaining wine in his goblet absent-mindedly.

He had loosened his necktie, the jacket he had lended to you now discarded on armrest of the sofa. His dark eyes glinted in something you failed to fully comprehend. He did not seem inhebriated, not yet. But rather passionate, as he took a sip from his glass before settling it down on the glass coffee table at his feet.

You mimicked his actions, tiredly accomodating yourself against the soft backrest. He hummed, shifting on his seat and deliberately sliding closer to you. Your head was reclined, the illumination casting enticing shadows over his face. You felt almost ashamed for the desire you felt for him, for a complete stranger.

“You have improved in Korean, though. Practice leads to progresses— he noted, his hot breath wafting over your face like a gloved stroke on your cheek — Aren’t you dying to go back to Mr. Cho and tell him in a perfect Korean that he is not in the position to judge you?”.

You chuckled this time, eyes closing “If I were to do that, I would not be that polite and formal”.

“But elegance suits you, ma’am. Foul language is not necessary to manifest your anger” he chided you, probably in paternalistic way you found odd, but not out of place.

“Homicide is illegal” you pointed out, your sarcasm and dark humor rolling out of your tongue like your second language.

He hesitated for a split second, his lips curving in a smirk at your remark. He glanced at his wristwatch briefly, before his eyes searched for yours again “It’s three in the morning. Would you like for me to take you back home?”.

He was giving you a choice. He had not touched you inappropriately, he had merely sat close to you, offered you wine, let you take some pent up frustration out by listening to your story silently. He had been an absolute gentleman. Maybe, this was the reason why you scooted even closer to him, hand gently resting over his to stop him.

Your noses brushed together, tentatively experimenting what it would have felt like to breathe him in. He reached his hand up, cupping your cheek and angling your head in a optimal position to let your lips lock. You held your breath, half-lidded eyes boring into his, dilated, lust filled.

“Is that a no?”.

You swallowed thickly “Affermative, sir”.

He hummed, tongue sweeping out of his mouth to lick your lips, tasting you, before finally opening his mouth and involving you in a slow, intimate kiss you had long forgotten could give butterflies to your stomach. He was a good kisser. His large free hand travelling down your curves, squeezing you hip to prompt you to straddle his lap.

You did not break the kiss, a soft moan leaving your mouth, when he bucked his hips up and pressed you down on his crotch.

“How far can I go?” he asked you huskily, your spine arching when he began to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck.

Oh, sweet God, you had lost your capacity of speaking.

Rolling your hips down to meet his movements, you whined and ran your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on the strands as he raised the hem of your skirt to expose your lower regions entirely.

“I don’t mind…” you mumbled, flicking your gaze down to meet his black-pitch orbs. You were screwed.

His hand slipped hastily beneath the fabric of your underwear, deft fingers seeking and finding your clitoris. He flicked it expertily, groaning softly at your wetness coating his digits. You were soaked, needy whimpers of pleasure escaping your parted lips as you felt your hole clenching around nothing, until he began to tease the entrance.

You cried out in bliss, his index sliding in without meeting resistance, soon followed by a second finger. The stretch was good, nothing compared to your own touch or the ones from your previous partners. He knew what pace drove you insane, what you liked, your body language was the equivalent of an opened book to him.

“Flawless” he whispered in your ear.

You wanted to moan out his name, but you realized you both had not introduced yourselves yet. He thrusted his fingers up in your core, thumb rubbing your throbbing clitoris as you panted above his head.

“W-What’s your name?” you breathed out, glossy eyes peering down at him.

He did not answer, instead biting the tender spot between your jawline and your neck. It was enough, your body had enough. Your inner walls clenched tightly around his fingers, body jerking, as your orgasm hit you like a violent wave crashing against the shore. You trembled, body slumping against his as he enclosed your waist in his arms. His lips grazed the shell of your ear, a feather-like kiss sending frissons over your body.

“I got you, Y/N”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there and thank you for having read my work. This is the first chapter of a new series I have come up with for Squid Game. The main couple will be The Salesman x reader, but I don’t and can’t promise you won’t see a glimpse of another pair throughout the story. It won’t obviously last, because well… It’s a Salesman x reader story. The title “Il nome mio nessun saprà” translated as “No one will know my name” is taken from the song played by the Salesman during the Russian roulette game with the two former loan sharks. Comments and opinions are greatly appreciated!

Love,

Luce

VOCABULARY.

1. Non tutti sono ricchi come te: not everyone is as rich as you are;

2. Buona fortuna: good luck;

3. Buonasera, signorina: good evening, miss.

CREDITS FOR THE DIVIDERS: @cafekitsune

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Warnings: angst angst angst! mean!Steve, bitchy!reader, slight allusions to unrequited love, mentions of Vecna and the upside down, argument, Steve being a dick to reader. and before anyone comes at me with the 'but your Steve is so ooc! he isn't mean anymore' this is a fic, this is enemies to lovers, you see the mean!Steve warnings, you know what you're getting yourself into.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had buried his past self, King Steve was dead, but all it took was a little push for him to make a small appearance again, to rain nothing but chaos upon his already weak 'friendship' with you. You pushed him, and you did it a little too hard.

Word count: 5k+

Author's note: Big big biggest shoutout to my bestie @hellfire--cult for helping me and writing those evil evil lines, you're the best

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

He regrets waking up that day.

He regrets saying yes to Robin and the kids to hang out.

He regrets picking up Max’s phone call. 

If he wouldn’t have done any of these things, he wouldn’t be where he is right now. 

Parked in front of your house so he can drive you both to Robin’s. 

It’s been a week since the day at his place, a week since you had stormed out of his house, a week since he had last seen you. It almost feels weird. He can’t even remember the last time he had gone without seeing you this long. If you’re not hanging out with the group, he sees you going into the coffee shop across from Family Video every afternoon. Sometimes you even run into each other at Bradley’s Big Buy, but since last Saturday, he hasn’t seen you anywhere – it’s almost as though you had disappeared. Maybe he would have worried if it wasn’t for Max and El gushing over your shopping trip to Indianapolis the other day, he panicked when they told him that, thinking that you were driving again when you still weren’t allowed to, but El had calmed him down, telling him that you used the train. 

With a sigh, he gets out of the car. He runs his fingers through his hair out of nervousness. He rings the doorbell and takes a step back, staring at the wooden door. 

How will you even react to seeing him here? 

You’re surely expecting Eddie, not him. 

The door opens after a moment, revealing you on the other side, looking as beautiful as always – unfortunately. You’re wearing a white top, the soft pink stripes matching the color of your glossy lips, your skin looking soft and glowy as the sun shines into your house, the fading bruises are almost all gone, finally. The scent of your perfume, something sweet and flowery invades his space, and he can’t help but inhale it, feeling warmth blooming in his chest. 

He takes you in, the way you look beneath the sun rays, the way your dainty necklace lies so prettily on your chest, the way your lashes touch your skin as you blink at him. 

The smile on your face instantly fades away when you lock eyes with him, the usual grumpy frown takes over instead, that pulls him back into reality. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” 

Yeah, you’re only pretty and cute when you keep your mouth shut. 

He clenches his jaw, trying not to show how annoyed he is already. 

“Picking you up.” 

You furrow your brows at him, “what? Where’s Eddie?” 

“He forgot about his Doctor’s appointment, he had to rush out. Max called me and told me to pick you up.” 

“Oh,” you nod and you stare at him for a long moment before a smile appears on your face, “she told you, huh?” 

Caught off guard by the smile on your face, he stays quiet, only nodding at your words. 

You chuckle to yourself, turning away from him to pick up your jacket and your keys. Surprising him by not fighting him, you step out of the house and close the door. You look him up and down, eying the keys in his hand. 

“Can I drive your car?” You ask, tilting your head, “I promise I’ll take better care of it than you ever could.”

He snorts at your words, looking at you with an expression that almost makes you laugh. 

“With that head injury? Yeah, not a fucking chance, Blondie.” 

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, already making your way over to his car. 

“It’s been like what… a month? I’m all healed, I’m feeling peachy.” 

“A month and you still get dizzy and don’t even lie about it.”

Once again, you keep quiet instead of throwing a smartass remark back, it makes him furrow his brows at you. Instead of opening the door, he leans his elbow on the roof of his car, looking over at you curiously. 

You open the door and put one foot in before you halt when you notice him staring. 

“What?” 

“Did you fall on your head or something?” 

You shake your head at him, scrunching your face up. 

“You’re not fighting me, are you feeling okay?” He smirks. 

Scoffing at his words, you flip him off before you get into the car without a single word. 

He taps his fingers against the car, looking up at the blue sky with a smirk that turns into a content smile, he thought the bickering would start the moment you opened that door. Maybe today won’t be so bad. 

Though when he gets into his car and he glances at you, you’re already staring back at him with that certain look in your eyes, the one that tells him everything he needs to know. Your eyes are glimmering with that smugness, the one that’s always there when you’re about to tease him with something that you know will annoy him. 

“Is Nancy gonna be there?” 

“Huh?”

You blink at him innocently as you fasten your seatbelt. 

“Nancy, is she gonna be there? You know, since you only get the chance to be around her during these group hangouts,” you smirk. 

He squints his eyes at you, biting back the bitter words that he was about to throw at you. He turns away and starts the car. 

He backs out of your driveway and without a single word, he starts driving. 

“Must suck being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same, huh?” 

He stares at the road ahead, blankly. He could swear there was a hint of hurt in your voice. He doesn’t look at you, despite feeling your eyes on him, he doesn’t look and only grips the steering wheel tighter.

“But what would I know,” you snort and he hears you leaning back in the seat, the leather squeaking a little as you try to get more comfortable. 

Yeah, what would you know? He thinks. 

You’re cold and you’re mean – he is certain that there’s not a single trace of love in your heart. How you care that deeply for Max will always remain a mystery to him. 

“Are you a grandpa or something or where is the music!?” 

“You make enough music for us.”

He turns to you for a brief second, to see you scrunching up your face at him, shaking your head in confusion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Lego head?” 

“Your yapping and whining is enough for me.”

“Oh, so you’re saying my yapping and whining is music to your ears?” You smirk. “Just say that you love hearing my voice.”

“Shut up,” he murmurs, glaring at you. He clenches his jaw and flicks the button to turn on the music. 

Material Girl by Madonna starts playing and he instantly feels his heart dropping, his cheeks start glowing red – at least, that’s what it feels like. He grows flustered underneath your stare the moment you start laughing. 

“Oh wow, I knew you were a girly girl, Harrington.”

He changes the song, calming down when some Duran Duran song starts playing instead, but you are still laughing, and he can only groan in annoyance, pointing his finger at you, “shut up, Blondie.”

Your face only grows more amused, and this is where the teasing begins and the drive to Robin’s house becomes a torture for him and he practically starts counting down the second till he can finally get out of the car that he usually loves being in. 

He bites his tongue, not saying a single word while you yap away the way you always do. 

What a fool he was for thinking that this day could have been good, you manage to ruin every day of his. 

He can only stay quiet for so long. 

“Do you ever shut up or do I have to make you!?” 

That seems to shut you up. At least, for a moment. When he glances at you with angry eyes, he notices the smug look on your face that still didn’t stray away from you, not even after his words. 

“And how would you do that?” You ask, mockingly. 

He stares at your lips for a moment, clenching his jaw and gripping the gear stick tightly. He looks away as he turns left, pulling up in Robin’s driveway, he parks the car. 

“I have an idea or two,” he mumbles and gets out before you can question him. He almost thinks that his words have stunned you, when you take a moment longer to get out of the car, but when you do and your eyes meet his, you smirk again. 

He starts walking backwards, taking in the sight of you as you walk towards him. Your jeans hug your hips and your legs so perfectly that he begins to hate them. He almost feels ashamed for wanting to see them from the back. His eyes move up to your top, without intending to stare at your cleavage but he does.. and fuck, he hates how attracted his body is to you. 

“So cocky and for what?” You chuckle as you brush past him, not noticing his staring. 

Steve’s cheeks are red, his eyes instantly fall down to your butt when he turns around to follow you onto the porch. You move your hips and he has to clench his jaw.

It’s really a shame that he can’t stand you. 

You ring the doorbell and patiently wait for Robin to open, you don’t spare him a glance, you don’t even turn around to tease him any further, he doesn’t mind it though, it gives him the chance to keep looking at you. Your skin looks soft and he sometimes catches himself wondering what it would feel like to touch you, it’s glowing and he can’t help but ask himself whether it’s because of the body cream that you put on or if it’s just this pretty on it’s own – not that he ever imagines you putting lotion on your body after a shower, definitely not. 

“Oh great, you didn’t kill each other!” Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat. 

Robin grabs your hand and pulls you into her house, only throwing a glance over her shoulder at him, “come on in Dingus, you know the way.” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he walks in, watching the way his best friend pays more attention to you than to him. Not only did you nestle your way into his friend group, you had also seemingly nestled your way into Robin’s heart. He watches the friendship between you slowly blossoming and he can’t help but feel jealous of that. 

He stays back in the hallway for a moment, preparing for a long evening with you. 

He hears Robin talking your ear off already, Max and Lucas are in the kitchen too. But no one else is around. Nancy and Jonathan are on a date, he knows that, Jonathan gushed about it to Argyle before he left the other day and Steve couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he heard them talking about Nancy. The other teens are off doing god knows what. So much for the weekly group hangouts. 

He hears your laughter and he can’t help but roll his eyes. It’s not the kind of laugh that he ever gets, no, whenever you laugh with or at him, it’s like you’re mocking him or making fun of him – not that he cares, he does the same to you. It’s your thing. 

But for some reason it bothers him to hear and see you laughing like this with the others. 

You get along with Robin, you get along with Eddie, you get along with the teens – hell, you even get along with Nancy even though you glared daggers at each other that day at skull rock.

With him, you’re either grumpy and rude or you’re just a snappy smug brat – which seems to be the case today. 

Steve walks into the kitchen, putting on a smile to greet Max and Lucas with. 

“Hey,” Max mumbles grumpily, only shooting him a brief and very forced smile before she goes back to her deep conversation with you. 

Another grump, he thinks to himself. It’s not a surprise that the snappy teen likes you so much, you’re both the same person. 

Lucas greets him with a handshake and a friendly smile, something that two of the three girls in this room should learn. 

“Are you coming to my game next friday?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nods. 

“You can bring her,” Lucas wiggles his brows at him, gesturing to you with a wink, “as a date,” he whispers.

Steve scrunches his face up, as though he is disgusted by the thought of it – like he wasn’t just checking you out on the porch. 

“You’re joking, right?” He mumbles as he looks over Lucas’s shoulder, glancing at you. 

“No,” Lucas crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head, “you are awfully mean to her, which means that you must like her.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks over at you again, in sheer panic, hoping that you didn’t just hear the ridiculous words that have left Lucas’s mouth. You’re too distracted by whatever story Max is telling you though, looking back and forth between her and Robin. 

He looks back at Lucas to see him staring smugly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Isn’t that what you said to Dustin when he asked you for girls advice?” He snorts, shaking his head once again, “‘the key with girls is acting like you don’t care’” Lucas mocks quietly, chuckling after that. 

Steve sighs, putting his hand on his hip, “he told you that?” 

Lucas leans closer, “he sure did,” he smirks as he turns his head to glance at you before her turns back around, “I remembered it the other day, and it had me thinking–”

“Alright,” Steve interrupts him, he places his hands on his shoulders, “stop that, Sinclair.”

Lucas laughs, eying the flustered look on Steve’s face, who shoots him another glare before he steps away. He clears his throat, looking at the kitchen island where Robin had already prepared all the snacks. 

He grabs two bowls, glancing back at Lucas, “help me carry the snacks over to the living room, man. These ladies are too busy gossiping,” he says, expecting you to turn around and throw a comment back at him, but you don’t. 

Robin squints her eyes, nodding at him, “don’t give us the sass, Dingus.”

Lucas chuckles at her, he walks over to the kitchen island, reaching for the bowl of sour gummies and the M&M’s, “when is Steve ever not sassy?” 

At that, you finally turn to face them, a smirk tugging at your lips, you don’t have to say anything to show him that you agree with Lucas. 

He only rolls his eyes at you, no further words needed as he leaves the kitchen, stepping into the living room with Lucas trailing behind.  

“Wow, you didn’t even say anything to her.”

Steve has to roll his eyes again, the teasing in his voice isn’t very subtle. He opens his mouth to speak when the doorbell rings and Lucas rushes out of the room before he can even move or say anything. 

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Lucas says after opening the front door. 

“Found him on the side of the road.” Steve hears Eddie’s voice. 

“Oh you two are such jokesters. You think I’d miss out on game night?” Dustin’s voice sounds through the hallway. “What are we even playing?” 

Robin replies enthusiastically as she walks into the living room with Dustin by her side and Eddie tagging along, greeting Steve with a grin. 

“Oh boy, the board’s definitely getting flipped today,” Dustin laughs.

Steve raises his brows, “you mean you will flip the board?” 

Dustin tilts his head as he looks at his older friend, his smile turning into a playful frown, “hello to you too, Steve.” 

“Henderson.” 

Dustin claims the loveseat before anyone else can, slumping down with a grin on his face, he reaches for one of the sour gummies in the bowl. 

“What’s wrong? Did your phone date not go so well with your girlfriend?” Steve teases. 

“At least I have a girlfriend,” Dustin winks at him. 

As you walk into the room, Lucas faces Steve again, with a teasing grin, “what do you mean, he’s got one too, she’s right there.” 

Dustin gives him a funny look before he turns around with furrowed eyebrows, confusion flashing in his eyes before they widen and he turns back to look at a very unimpressed Steve. 

“What!? You two are dating?” He shrieks loud enough for you to freeze in your spot. 

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head at him. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes at Dustin, “Henderson, I think that Sinclair might have a little too much imagination over there.” 

Lucas only shrugs, still grinning. 

“You’re playing matchmaker with the wrong people,” Robin laughs, looking between you and Steve. 

“Absolutely,” Eddie chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to her. 

“Can we just play the game now?” You ask as both you and Max sit down on the ground in front of the board game that Robin had already put out. 

“Ooh, we’re playing Ludo?” Dustin asks. 

Everyone nods, everyone except for Robin. 

“What?” She chuckles, cupping her cheek as she looks around, “that’s Wahoo.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, “Wahoo?” 

“That’s what the game is called,” Robin says, pointing to the board. 

Steve watches the way you shake your head in confusion, slightly pouting as you stare at her. Fuck… you almost look cute. 

As Eddie reaches for the dice, he throws it up in the air, catching it between two fingers, “this game is called Sorry! my friends,” he smirks, cockily. “We only need four players so who goes first?” 

Lucas, who starts scarving down the snacks, waves a hand at Eddie, “I’ll sit this round out,” he says with a mouthful of chips. 

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth!” Max rolls her eyes at him. 

“Red, Dustin, Robin and Steve go first,” Eddie says. “The master has spoken, now let the games begin,” he says in his deep voice. 

Steve rolls his eyes at him, “this isn’t D&D dude, we don’t need a master.”

“Still.”

“Okay!” Robin claps her hands together, “let’s play!”

And as the game started, everyone laughed, everyone was having fun, everyone was joking around, it was all lighthearted. Dustin was throwing tantrums in his team with Robin, while Eddie snickered. Robin was a loser, and she accepted that she sucked at this game, competing against a bunch of stubborn teens. She was the first to sit out and stop playing. Max and Lucas preferred to stay out after the first few rounds, amused by watching the gameplay. 

And then, Steve and you were outright competing as if it were a championship. Neither of you even noticed that it was only you two left, everyone else stopped playing a while ago, watching this intense competition instead. 

While you took it all with ease, teasing him with a few jabs here and there whenever he was losing against you, Steve took it all a little more seriously. Because the moment he lost against you more than once, the anger in him started rising – not because of the game, but because of the looks you were giving him, those smug and cocky looks, the comments that weren’t even that bad – but everything, everything about you was pissing him off this day. 

Your attitude this morning, your comments, your jabs, your arrogance, you’ve been getting on his nerves from the moment you got into his car. 

And right now, he can feel his chest heaving, burning in anger and frustration. 

His jaw is clenched, his eyes are hurting from the intense glares that you start giving each other. 

Neither of you feel the eyes of the others on you two, the nervous glances, the warning ones because everyone knows what will follow after this. 

You both want to win against the other so desperately and currently, it’s a tie between the two of you. He won three rounds, you won three rounds – this apparently will be the last one, this one will decide who will win this very meaningless, stupid game. 

But Robin can’t take it any longer, she can’t keep watching the two of you getting angrier each passing second, knowing that this round will only lead to another, and both you and Steve could sit here all night, because you are both stubborn brats when it comes to each other – as it seems. 

“Okay!” Robin throws her hands up, snatching the dice from Steve’s hand that he was just about to throw, “can you two stop? It’s a tie, move on!” 

You and Steve look away from one another, raising your heads to look at Robin who glares at the two of you. 

“We’ll finish and then we’re done!” 

Steve groans at your words. 

“No!” Robin shakes her head, “because one will win and the other won’t, and then it’s a fucking mess, so stop playing! You fought interdimensional monsters together, for fucks sake!”

“Right, that doesn’t mean anything.” Steve rolls his eyes before he looks back at you, only to see your face fall. 

He almost feels guilty. You risked your life out there, not only for Max and Lucas but also for him. 

“That doesn’t mean anything!? Well aren’t you fucking grateful, Harrington.”

“Everyone fought, not just you, don’t think you’re all high and mighty,” he mumbles through the anger that he is still feeling.

A part of him is begging to just move on and keep his mouth shut, but he is frustrated, not just because of the game, but because of you, every small comment from you reminds him of how much he can’t stand you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, break it up,” Eddie says as he gets up from the couch, raising his hands up as he takes in the hurt but angry look in your eyes. 

You shake your head, “no, no, let him keep going! I want to hear what this bastard with his hero complex has to say to me.” 

Eddie can see the way Steve is fuming, the way the anger in his eyes gets stronger and stronger. He stands up, moving closer to you as you get up as well. 

“You fought with us once. Once! And you think that makes you equal to us!? You have no idea what we all went through, you have no idea the people we lost along the way, you know nothing!” He snaps at you, ignoring the way you draw back as your eyes fill with something he can’t read. 

Max straightens up in her seat, already reaching for her crutches as her eyes widen, seeing the way your lips twitch as blink up at Steve. 

“Steve, stop!” 

If he wasn’t so angry, he would have heard the fear in Max’s voice, something that normally would’ve made him draw back in an instant. 

You glance at her, shaking your head, yet again. “No, Max, it’s okay.” You turn back to face him, looking into his eyes coldly – that’s the only look he knows, that’s the one he cannot stand. “What does Steve Harrington know about loss!?” 

Steve feels his gut twisting, he clenches his jaw but doesn’t answer your question, he keeps staring at you. 

“What? Mom and Dad left you the whole house to yourself, and you consider that loss!?” You frown, lifting your arm, you gesture to the people in the room. “I see Robin alive, I see Eddie alive, I see all of the kids alive, so who exactly did you fucking lose, Harrington?” 

Behind the anger and the emptiness in your eyes, is sadness and pain, something he can’t see through the haze that he is in, right now. All he sees is something, someone he hates, someone who acts like she knows everything, someone who does nothing but bring chaos and anger into his heart and into a friends group that is so sacred to him. 

He never felt this angry before, not even when he found Nancy with Jonathan, not even when she cheated on him and left, not during a single fight with his dad, nothing had ever made him feel such rage. 

“You are so fucking horrible!” He snaps at you, not caring about anything, right this second. Everyone in the room disappears, Dustin, Max and Lucas are no longer there, and neither are Robin and Eddie, it’s just you and him now. “I hate the fucking day we ran into you at Skull Rock! You are the most despicable and cold hearted bitch I’ve ever met! I would be surprised if you ever loved somebody!” 

He can’t see the shock or the pain that nestles into your features. 

He doesn’t even hear the gasps from the others in the room. 

“Steve!” Max yells, reminding him of the fact that she is there, that everyone else is here too. 

The girl almost falls over when she jumps up. Lucas stands up as well, steadying her before she can fall. They both look at you, both of them see the hurt in your eyes, the way you helplessly stare back at the guy that you risked your life for. 

Robin and Eddie stare at him in disbelief, not knowing the Steve that they are looking at, right now. 

All that Steve can see is red though. 

“No, Mayfield, let me fucking finish because she needs to understand how terrible she is.” He practically spits in your face, not tearing his eyes away from yours, at all. “I-I mean, don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did – even more, I would be surprised if anyone ever loved you at all. You’re not someone easy to fucking love, Blondie. Trust me on that.” 

And the moment those words fall from his lips, the room falls silent, dead silent. His heart stops racing and his skin runs cold. Suddenly, he is brought back into the room, the haze fleeting away more and more and he can now see clear again. 

And as he looks at you, really looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach and every trace of anger is gone, replaced by a guilt he had never felt before. 

Your eyes are filled with tears as you stare at him with nothing but pain, not a single trace of coldness in them, not a single trace of anger or indifference or even hate for the man in front of you. All he can see is pain, pain, pain.. Your tears are welling up more and more, threatening to spill down your cheeks. Your throat bobbed up and down, like you are trying to gulp down the ball of nerves and sobs threaten to fall from your lips. 

For a split second, he can see through you and he sees something there never was before – something that tells him that you would let him do this, until he’d get enough of hurting you, that you would let him break you, little by little. But, he had enough. 

You look down as your bottom lip starts to tremble. 

As he sees that, Steve feels like the most horrible person on the planet. Worse than his dad, worse than the monsters he had fought, worse than Vecna. 

What had prompted him to throw such awful and vile words at you? 

The guilt that takes over almost feels unbearable and the moment he wants to take back those words, to apologize, you are already gone. 

Lucas calls out to you, but the slamming of the front door is all he gets back. 

Before Steve can even look around the room, his back is slammed against the nearest wall and he is met by the sight of an angry Eddie, his eyes darker than ever, nose flaring as he grips the collars of his polo, pressing him harshly against the wall. 

“I would fucking punch you in the face right now, Harrington. Don’t forget who was the first person to jump into the water to save your ass!” He yells at him, giving him one final push that knocks the breath out of him before Eddie lets go and leaves to go after you. 

Steve looks down, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. 

“Steve… what the fuck?” Dustin mumbles, softly, staring at his older friend in disappointment. 

Robin looks around the room, before her eyes lock on Steve, she looks at him in confusion, not understanding where all of this came from. 

“Dingus.. what the hell was that? Why did you–”

“Everyone leave the room.” 

It’s Max’s voice that sounds through the room, awfully calm. So calm that it takes everyone aback. 

Lucas stares at his girlfriend, completely confused. 

All it takes is a single look from her though and he and Dustin scatter out of the room. Dustin pulls Robin along who protests at first but follows when she looks back at Max, who only shakes her head. 

It’s silent for a long minute, and Steve doesn’t know what to feel. 

“That was fucked up, Steve.” Max says. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the tears that threaten to build up. 

Not only did he hurt you, something he never thought was even possible. He also showed his friends a side of him he wanted to keep buried. A side that surely makes them feel less safe around him now. 

“I-I know, I don’t.. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” 

Max purses her lips, looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact. 

“She may not have been with us from the start, hell, I wasn’t either. It doesn’t mean that she didn’t experience it just the same. She may not have fought monsters, Steve. But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.” 

You fought monsters, you fought the bats off of him. 

He snaps his head up, staring at her with a frown on his face.  

“Max I–”

The redhead shakes her head, anger and disappointment still on her face. 

“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. I will not tell you her story, I’m not allowed to do that. But you are wrong, you are terribly wrong about everything you just said about her.” 

She reaches for her crutches, giving him one final look before she leaves the room. 

He stares at the ground with a gnawing feeling in his chest, hating himself more and more as the seconds go by. 

The look you gave him will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

How could he ruin everything in the span of a few minutes? 

How could he not see the hurt in your eyes after only the first words that he threw at you? 

How could he not see the vulnerable side of you? 

How was he so blinded by the act you had put on? 

He judged a book by its cover, just like King Steve had done in the past. There is no excuse. No fucking excuse for what he had done to you. 

♡

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[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE ALL I EVER WANTED | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [bonus chapter]

Description: The one where you realise you like Spencer.

Length: 6.2k

Warnings: mention of when Penelope got shot, but other than that not much. Mentions of sex + body count though there is NO judgement OR SHAMING. Bugsy could be Bisexual/attracted to women if you choose to read it that way, but you don't have to!

authors note: this little bonus chapter is set the week before Emily 'dies' so right before the final second of Chapter Two. Or you can just read this if you'd like to see two morons dancing around their love for one another. Since I’m uploading today, I realised you needed to read part of this for the next big chapter so that is going to take an extra day or so but it is coming! I hope this satiates the bugspence cravings!!

‘You’re the one, you’re all I ever wanted,

I think I’ll regret this,’

It was warm considering it was one of the last days of Winter, one of the warmest Virginia had in years.

Caseload had been ramped up with the amount of children out on the streets with their friends where any nefarious hands could simply snatch them, or young adults got drunk, or worse, in preparation for Spring Break, their inhibitions lowered to zero making them prime prey. And yet, on a random Saturday at the end of February, the sun peeked out from the dishwater grey clouds, the wind died down, and their phones stayed quiet with the promise of a real day off. 

And how better to spend a day away from their office than to meet their co-workers in the park for a game of soccer. 

“Morgan, quit marking me,” Bugsy yelled, dribbling the ball down the small field they’d commandeered as a pitch, four water bottles stood upright on either end as goal points. But Derek’s laugh was menacing, and she heard his footsteps pounding behind her, advancing on her as if they were kids in a playground, and before long he had swooped in front of her, despite her hand waving out in his direction to shove him away.

Emily was about to call her out for contact, not that she expected her little sister to give a shit, but Derek was too fast for even her where she sat on the side lines with Penelope. The ball went careering away from her, Morgan’s quick feet keeping it under much better control than she’d been able to, even with her hot on his heels, and before long he was shooting to where Aaron stood as goalie, just about rolling it past Hotch’s muscled legs into their goal. 

Derek whooped, Will jogged over from the other end of the pitch to fist bump his team mate as the younger woman huffed, her college jumper and shorts clinging to her sweaty body. 

“Sucks to suck, baby Prentiss,” Morgan jeered, shoving her shoulder lightheartedly when she glared at him, “Guess you owe me that drink, which I will be redeeming at the next convenience-” 

“It’s easy to win when you’re two hundred pounds of muscle and your opponent is a girl who hasn’t done sport since high school,” She snapped, her expression grumpy as she fingered the hem of her fleecy top. Derek chuckled, Will returning to sit with JJ as Henry climbed over her legs wanting to play with her long strands of honey blonde hair. He shoulder bumped the girl, hoping to perk up her mood, but she shoved him back as hard as she could, not that it did much since she’d said herself she was sort of out of shape compared to his rock hard abs. 

“Oh, come on now, Bug, don’t be like that,” He said, unphased when she damn near threw her whole body against his, trying to even knock him in the slightest off his feet, her face screwed up in annoyance. “Bugsy.” Derek tried again, only for her to ignore him and try even harder. He didn’t so much as flinch, “Bugsy, you’re being unreasonable,”

She huffed, drawing away from him and glancing at him with a scathing glare. “Okay, terminator, you won this time but I swear one day I’m going to make you pay for taking advantage of such a fragile little woman like me,” 

Emily scoffed, handing her sister a water bottle, “Didn’t you take down an unsub alone yesterday? I mean you didn’t even have cuffs until Spencer showed up-”

“Oh, whose side are you on?” Bugsy snarled, downing a gulp of water and walking back over to where Spencer and JJ were relaxing on a picnic blanket, the former laying on his back with a book spread open using only one of his spindle-like hands. 

“Good game?” He mused, trying to hide his smirk when she groaned in response, throwing herself down on the grass beside him. She wrestled her sweater over her head which left her in a band tee, her chest still rising with panting breaths as she lay down to his right, glaring at the clear sky. 

“Remind me to never play him in sport ever again. The man is a Spartan Warrior,” She huffed, barely glimpsing to where JJ chuckled at her defeated expression. 

“Did you know that the Spartans were actually banned from the Olympics for some time for violating the peace treaty between Sparta and Athens? But one of their athletes entered a chariot race pretending to represent Thebes, a city above Athens in Boeotia, and only when he won did he announce his true identity,” Spencer asked, his nose still buried in his book like he was reciting the very same information off the page. Bugsy’s lips quirked in interest. 

“That’s pretty cool,” She murmured, head flicking over to him where he glanced back at her, finally ripping his attention away from his novel. She blinked at him, his ‘boy band’ hair as so affectionately named by their unit chief, swooping over his forehead with a few soft, chocolate curls that she moved to fix almost immediately. 

She missed the way his eyes rounded in puppy love as she did so, a camouflaged smile twitching at his lips, an onset reaction of the butterflies that swarmed his chest. 

“I like your hair like this,” She said, even though she’d told him a dozen times already his new hair was dashing, as she’d put it, “It makes your eyes look really pretty,” 

He cleared his throat, his cheeks heating up because he couldn’t handle his reactions when she was so forward, “Really? I always thought they were the colour of dirt,” 

Her mouth dropped open, and she shuffled up onto her elbows so they were similar heights, “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now,” 

“Wow, the government name. I must be in trouble,” He mused, gaze falling to the grass beneath them, dropping his book into his lap even though he felt her annoyance poking holes in his skull.

“They are not the colour of dirt, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous,” She scoffed, nudging him with the back of her hand in a soft chide and he snickered, looking back up to where she was staring him straight in the muddy hues of his very plain hazel eyes. “They’re like, they’re like-” She tried to come up with an answer, squinting in the soft sunlight that turned the brown shades into liquid honey running off a spoon, her face  leaning towards his to catch a closer look at the exact pigment of them, “They’re like looking up at a forest on a Summer’s morning, you know? Like when you can see every single one of the leaves because of the light,” 

He nodded wordlessly, because no one had ever said something quite so poetic about any part of him before. He fought the urge to look away, wasn’t sure he could even if he tried because for a second they were both in a trance, dissecting the other’s gaze like they were imprinting their colour palettes to memory. 

“Buggy!” Her head whipped away from him as the blonde headed child came running over to her as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. He launched himself at her stomach, and her hands quickly caught him before he could wind her, his cheeks rosy behind his bumble bee pacifier. She giggled as he slid down her side, his knees staining with grass as he reached muddy hands out for her face. 

“Woah, not so fast mister. Who knows where these grubby little paws have been,” She teased, and he laughed behind the plastic sucker, his bluebell eyes a near match of JJ’s blinking over at her. 

Spencer watched her and his godson with besotted eyes, imagining for a split second what she might be like as a mother, if she ever chose to be. He knew she would be soft and yet not lose one drop of the Bugsy playfulness he cherished, just instead parting everything that made her extraordinary onto a mini her. 

He saw it, like a flicker of a dream, like deja vu, a girl with her hair, her skin, her smile; the one that was impish and guilty like she had a secret, giggling behind a ladybug dummy the way Henry was doing when she forced his dirty hands together to clap; “Clap your hands if you smell like fairy farts- Henry!” 

The child laughed harder, so hard his pacifier dropped out his mouth with a little dribble, his milk teeth pearly with and tiny in the sun. His chest seized with giggles, his face turning pink as he panted to catch his breath, “You’re so silly, Buggy,”  

JJ swooped in to grab his dummy, giving his hands a quick once over with a baby wipe and packing the sucker back into his bag. Henry’s gaze quickly slid up his mother’s arm to where she lingered over his pack, and he was eager to make himself comfortable leaning against Bugsy’s stomach, legs stretching out onto the blankets, his shoes brushing against Spencer’s trouser leg. 

“Juice, mama!” He shouted, his little voice sweet knowing just how to wrap everyone around his pinky finger, “Juice and Bi’kits!”

“What do we say, Henry?” Will reminded gently, holding the Ben 10 satchel open while his partner rooted around the bottom of it with a loving smile. 

“Please, juice and bi’kits,” The boy replied politely, his feet knocking together out of excitement when JJ produced two red pouches and animal shaped cookies. Stepping over where Spence lay sprawled out, watching Bugsy idly stroking over the back of his godson’s white blonde curls, JJ handed the two of them a drink and snack each, Bugsy’s eyes flying up to the woman in interest. 

“For me?” She asked dumbly, wondering if she was to give the second helping to the boy once he’d finished his first or if it really was hers.

JJ shrugged, moving back over to sit beside Will where he wrapped a lazy arm around her waist, squeezing her gently, “I always pack extra for the other kids,” 

Bug’s face flattened into something unamused as Henry handed Spencer his juice pouch for him to push the straw in, “I’m twenty six, I’m not a kid,” She grouched, ripping open the packet of biscuits and shoving a lion in her mouth, “God, whoever invented these animal shaped pals is genius. Like, why does everything taste so much better when it looks like a monkey smiling up at me?” 

The three of them chuckled at her, Emily and Penelope starting up a new game of soccer with Hotch and Derek, David reffing from the sideline. Penelope was ofcourse with Morgan, looking a little pale where she stood in goal, as Emily ran at her in full force with the ball skipping between her feet.

Spence handed the drink back to the boy, picking his book back up as the two of them crunched on their goodies happily. 

“Story time, Uncle Spencer,” Henry demanded, pointing to the copy of War and Peace in between bites of a zebra cookie. 

And instead of telling his godson that he would almost certainly hate the complex, adult writing of Leo Tolstoy, Spencer smiled down at him, feeling Bugsy’s eyes roving over his face.

“Yeah, storytime, Uncle Spencer,” She jeered, her elbow getting dirty where it dug into the grass as she rolled onto her side to watch him properly, “Never too early to teach the kids about French invasions,” 

Flicking her a smirk, he cleared his throat theatrically, and pretended to read from his book, “Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White,” 

“That’s a real magic book you got there, Spence,” The woman snickered, and he smiled into the pages, not daring himself to look at the devilish look she had on her face. 

“Chapter One; Before Breakfast,” Spencer ‘read’ clearly, his memory still clear as a bell when his mother had read it to him when he was five, “‘Where’s papa going with that axe?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast,” 

Bugsy felt Henry’s head slump against her hip, the boy slurping on his juice pouch happily as she punctured a hole in her own carton to take a sip, the two of them listening intently to Spencer recounting the children’s book to a scary degree of accuracy. 

His slender arms looked good with his sleeves rolled to his elbow, she thought offhandedly, his right elbow taking the brunt of his weight as he leaned on it, the other flicking through the Tolstoy novel as if it were the real thing, his long fingers splayed out on the back of the book to keep it open. His eyes kept darting up over the top of the page to see if they were both still listening, which they were, though Bugsy suspected Henry was starting to get tired as his head felt heavy against her skin. 

Propping her head on her hand, her eyes scanned over the profile of his face. She’d always known he was attractive, ever since she opened her dorm room door at John Hopkins and saw him and Morgan waiting for her. Her stomach twisted thinking about how long ago that seemed, that she couldn’t remember quite what her world had centred around when it had just been her at college; her mother and father were distant as ever, her sister was a stranger that had all but raised her, boys were just a passing face if she ever let them through her door. She’d had her books and maybe two friends, acquaintances would probably be the better term, and her coffee. And that seemed to have been enough, or at least it was enough that she couldn’t outright complain about how lonely she felt.  

And then she met Spencer. And that feeling had disapparated entirely.

Her heart swelled when she looked at him, recounting the beginning of chapter two by now, his forest hues glancing up at Henry’s sleepy, round eyes that watched him in interest. She thought for a moment that whoever his kid was going to be was going to be the luckiest boy in the world. She let herself imagine a boy Henry’s age already devouring books twice his reading age, one with wild, almond curls he’d let grow around his neck like JJ did with Henry’s. She imagined how he would sit him on his lap and let him read the books for himself, so that if he got stuck his dad would be right there to help him behind a proud smile. Spencer; a father. She realised how out of field the thought was before she shook it out of her head, though it had planted itself right in her hypothalamus the second she’d seen the vision of it. 

A small smile twitched at her lips, a warmth in the pit of her stomach flickering as she sipped the juice, giggling when Spencer changed his tone slightly so Henry knew someone new was speaking, seemingly enjoying the book almost as much as his audience was. His eyes snapped to her when he heard her, a devious little smile creeping up his lips like they shared the same thought. She wished she could do this every day, lay on picnic blankets and listen to him read, his voice was heavenly, and she thought she might never get tired of hearing him tell her things. 

Every part of her was consumed when she thought of him like this. It had happened once or twice, like when she’d driven him home from the doctors after they’d cleared his MRI’s, when she’d held his head in her lap on his couch and stroked his scalp, a cold compress over his eyes because his head writhed with a pain he couldn’t squash out. When she’d heard his soft snores as he finally dropped off to sleep and she allowed herself to look at his resting face, perhaps even more angelic than usual, a small indent right between his brows where his expression had been scrunched in discomfort for weeks, one she smoothed over with the soft pad of her thumb. She’d felt something then, like her whole body was full to the brim of him, her chest spasming with a feeling like she was coming down with a cold but one that made her feel good, but she’d brushed it off as seeing him vulnerable and soft compared to the quick as a whip FBI agent she was used to these days. She’d do just about anything for him, anything to make him feel better, anything to just make him happy.

Or when they’d eat breakfast together at his desk, her chair rolled up beside his as they sat together, taking it in turns to do crossword puzzles together because they realised they got competitive when they were allowed to answer all of them at the same time, and Bugsy did not like losing. There had been one morning when they’d descended into madness because they were both trying to write the answers as fast as possible, their hands smashing together over the boxes, her hand shoving his lithe body away as he had called her a cheater through red cheeked laughter. Rossi had confiscated the paper when things had gotten too physical and she’d pulled the lever beneath his chair, lowering his seat quick enough he nearly slipped right out. His coffee spilled all over his desk as his arm flew out to grab his desk, and the sight alone made her laugh so hard she almost peed. He’d pretended to be annoyed at her for all of two minutes as they cleaned up the mess together, but he too had found himself laughing hard enough he was almost in tears because she could barely get two words out without creasing over and holding her stomach in aching barks of noise, the two of them leaning against one another for support. She thought then, if she had breakfast with him every day, whether it be with quizzes or coffee or even a plain bowl of oatmeal, she’d wake up every day happy. 

And she thought it then, her heart swelling fat enough to burst as he looked up at her over the top of the leather binding again. Even in the split second he did so her skin had turned to gooseflesh, like he’d grabbed her at her soul and squeezed her whole being affectionately. And it was like she remembered every time he’d made her feel like that, times she thought of it as the fact a girl who received little to no attention growing up was of course going to revel under the gaze of an attractive man with a heart sweeter than cotton candy, it was just psychology. One big Freudian-slip of nonsense. At least that was what she shoved it off as. 

But looking at him, his hands big enough to grab her face whole, his body long and lithe as he spread out on the blanket, his hair falling so delicately, his tone soft and pandering to the little boy who was dropping off to sleep against her stomach. His whole essence was so Spencer it made her feel at home, like this was what she was created to do, feeling so fulfilled sat with him sipping on a juice pouch as he read to her she could die tomorrow and feel accomplished for only twenty six years. 

She knew in her gut that wasn’t what friends felt for each other; the thought creeping up her spine and over her shoulder like a virus that seized her brain as its own, her expression unwavering as she watched him with adoring eyes. 

She knew it was wrong, but with him she felt worth something. She felt complete. Like she had everything she ever needed, everything she’d ever wanted on the nights loneliness had snuck in and she’d felt like no one would ever understand how the muddied water of her mind worked. 

But he did. He always had. 

And it was like she heard a screech in a track record as it came to a stop, her head working overtime with the thought of it. 

She bit her lip in guilt, as he continued reading, hoping she wouldn’t ever ruin whatever it was that she’d felt, because she might not ever be able to forgive herself if she did. 

–

“It’s over one and below a hundred, and that’s all you’re getting,” Bugsy said with a teasing smile, her fingers resting on the rim of a very sweet Cosmo, as Penelope and Derek sat opposite them, Spencer to her right with a beer on one of the few times she’d ever seen him drink. But it had been a good day, and what would be the harm in topping off the day with a cold beverage, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like they meant much,” 

“We know it doesn’t matter, baby Prentiss, we’re just being nosey,” Derek chimed, his fingers wrapped around his own bottle of beer, courtesy of Bugsy which she had paid for with a grumble, a tipsy glint in his dark eyes. 

It was just the four of them this evening. Will and JJ had taken a sleeping Henry home so they could spend some rare time together seeing as their son was entirely knocked out. Hotch had taken Emily home after David had given her a red card for trying to tackle both Aaron and Derek multiple times during their game, because apparently competitiveness ran in the family. He had tried to gently remind her Aaron was also on her team, but had received a glare that would make any agent cower, and Hotch had suggested maybe it would be best if they got her home rather than fill her with alcohol. 

Rossi had excused himself home after hearing the colourful things the oldest Prentiss woman called him in Italian, likely contemplating if she meant any of the threats she was making. 

“Any guy would be lucky to make it to your magic number, honey bee,” Penelope added, her pastel painted lipstick making a cute rim on the straw to her own Margarita, “Or girl! Any girl would be too,”

Bugsy shied away at that, blanking for perhaps the first time because the whole topic of her romantic endeavours was suddenly embarrassing when Spencer was sat right beside her. She had spoken to them before about her college days, and had never once made an effort to hide the fact she knew she had a charm about her that meant she usually could take someone home if she wanted them. 

So why was it suddenly so difficult to admit in front of Spencer? She knew why, she knew why every single one of them suddenly felt miniscule in the grand scheme of things because they hadn’t meant much to her, not when he was sitting boring holes into the side of her head with an unusually tight expression. 

“What does it matter if there were girls, none of them really meant much,” She brushed them off, her face heating up when she finally looked at Spencer, his long fingers picking at the label on his beer with a tight lipped smile.

“We’re just teasing, Bug, there’s nothing wrong with any number you could give us. Besides, I guarantee mine is higher than yours,” Derek reassured, squeezing her wrist gently, his eyes sliding to where Spencer seemed to be trying to avoid all eye contact like he wanted the seat to swallow him whole, “Same with you, Kid, there’s no judgement at this table, we’re all human,” 

“I bet you were a real ladies man by that third doctorate,” Bugsy teased, nudging his shoulder with her own because she hated when he went quiet. 

He looked at her like he was expecting her to be cruel, except she didn’t look it, not one bit, instead she seemed a little skittish, no doubt from having the spotlight on her. “What makes you say that?” 

She bristled, “I mean, come on, Spence, you’re very good looking, you’re the smartest person I know, you’re funny and there’s like not a single bad bone in your entire body,” She said, becoming increasingly aware of the weight of her words the more she spoke. But it was like the cocktail had loosened her lips, had made it seem entirely normal to essentially tell him how lucky a girl would be to date him, how she had thought about all the reasons she would find him a worthy sexual partner. She watched him blush, granting her a flustered smile, and she looked to Penelope desperately for help, “Pen, would you tell him?”

“She has a point, Reid. You are the full package,” Penelope conceded, her smile illuminating the whole bar as she reached over to hold both their hands in hers, “It’s a shame you’re both strongly planted in the friend zone otherwise the four of us could have really been something beautiful,” 

They all chuckled, Bugsy shaking her head and leaning against Spencer’s side when he seemed to ease up, just to remind him she had meant no harm by what she said. In fact, she’d meant entirely the opposite.  

She felt his hand lean under the table to squeeze her knee, because he knew what she was thinking, and she felt herself relax at the feel of his touch. 

“Alright, here’s a question; winner gets a free shot on the next round. What was your worst date?” Morgan poked, noticing how the two youngest agents seemed to scooch towards one another almost as if they hadn’t realised, as if they were working off their own orbit, until they were pressed right up against one another, their elbows brushing against one another, “Doesn’t have to be sexual, could just be bad table manners,” 

“I haven’t really been on a date before,” Spencer tried to weasel his way out of the question, Bugsy’s head whipping to him in surprise, “There was that one time I met that girl Austin for coffee, but that was pretty great,”

She bit her cheek in annoyance. She’d forgotten about Austin, the bartender that she’d told Spencer to go after, because she was so sure that a good looking doctor like him deserved someone kind and attractive like Austin had been. She remembered how she’d seen her ocean blue eyes roving over her friend, how at the time it hadn’t meant much to her, because she couldn’t really blame her for thinking he was hot, how now it stirred something in her tummy that she feared felt like jealousy. 

She dared herself to stop the bombarding thoughts of what ‘pretty great’ entailed exactly, and busied her face by looking to Morgan for his turn. 

“My man,” Derek said with a wicked grin on his face, watching Spencer cower away from the attention though there was something guiltily proud in the smirk that grew on his face that said Spencer was somewhat pleased with his answer. In the scheme of things, he’d gotten lucky, pun intended. The only woman to ever say yes to a date with him had been sweet, even if he’d quickly made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything more with her, and even then she’d been understanding. 

“Your turn, Morgan,” Bugsy reminded, trying to be as cool as possible despite the fact her stomach felt flipped upside down at the sound of a woman she hadn’t thought about in two whole years. She didn’t know what had gotten her so territorial in a matter of seconds, but she hated every moment of it. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know ladies, that someone has in fact put Derek Morgan in his place before,” Derek said, with a clap of his hands, and Bugsy and Penelope shared an amused eye roll. 

“Who knows how big your ego might be if this goddess among women hadn’t acted when she did,” Bugsy drawled, Penelope giggling into her lime wedge as Derek laid a hand on his chest in faux hurt. 

“I’m telling you, I’m a changed man. I tasted my own medicine, Sugar, and it was bitter,” He said melodramatically, and even Spencer shook his head with a laugh, because Derek was a diva when he’d had a few to drink. “We go out to a lovely restaurant, I pay ofcourse, being the gentleman I am, and then we decide to go for some drinks after to round the evening off,”

“Any girl's dream come true,” Penelope jumped in, giggling when Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulder, like they were on a date themselves. 

“That was exactly my thoughts, babygirl.” Derek flirted, taking a swig of his beer, “Anyway, I maybe have a little too much of the good stuff, nothing particularly worrying. We’re laughing, we’re vibing, and then we go back to my place,” 

“Here we go, the real good stuff,” Bugsy chimed in, nudging Spencer with her elbow as the two of them snickered like tweedle dum and tweedle dee. “Fifty Shades of Morgan,”

“Pipe down, lover girl,”  Derek barked through laughter, Penelope barely making it through a sip of her own drink without smiling, “So as I was saying, I’m feeling a little worse for wear, she’s a little drunk too, so we move past it, and then we get to my room,”

“Bow chick a wow wow,” Bugsy sang teasingly, to which Spencer chuckled and taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Well, you would think, honey bee, since I am known to the women for my experiences in bed, some may call electric,” Derek slurred, holding her hand gently over the table to which she laughed even harder. 

“Huh, I must have missed that email,” She teased back, taking a long final sip of the dregs of her drink. 

“You wound me,” He replied, shaking his head, and turning to look at Penelope seriously, like he was sat in a confession booth, “So anyway, we’re in my room, about to get jiggy with it, only when I take my boxers off I find my soldier is sort of-” He paused, swallowing and looking at Spencer’s red face where he was trying desperately not to break, “You know. Unable to stand to attention,” 

Bugsy spat her drink across the table, the action alone making Penelope laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes, the younger girl coughing as she choked on her drink, and Spencer patted her on the back until she reclaimed some composure. 

“Oh, god,” She gasped, her hand thumping her chest as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself in between the loud cries of glee and winding herself, “Derek-”

“Hey, laugh it up, Bug, it worked out alright in the end. Our second date really was electric,” He replied with a smug smile, as the girl finally caught a breath, her lash line watering with tears as she grabbed for some napkins on the table to clear up her mess. 

“If you say so,” She said, her voice croaking as Spencer offered her a sip of his drink to wash her throat out. She took a small mouthful of beer, handing the bottle back to him with a grateful smile, and she tried no to think about the fact that germ wise, they had essentially just kissed. 

“Your turn,” Spencer said, something amused in his eyes as she looked at him somewhat betrayed, “What’s been your worst date?” 

She sighed, wiping beneath her eyes with her sleeve, “If you must know, and because I really do want that shot,”  She started, clearing her throat one final time, “I was seeing this guy in New York over Spring break, Sean something,” 

“Sean something?” Derek asked, “You didn’t know his last name?” 

She shrugged, fighting the urge to crawl into a small ball of embarrassment because surely what Morgan said had set the bar for judgement high, “We didn’t exactly do much talking when we saw each other,” 

Spencer hid his frustration in a fake smile, though one look at his furrowed brow would have given him away instantly. Luckily, they had their eyes on her long enough they didn’t catch a glimpse of his expression. It wasn’t that he would ever think less of her for being with someone else, who wouldn’t want her, but hearing about it made his inside boil with jealousy he didn’t even know he would have ever felt. 

“Anyway. I felt like a change of scenery and my mother was bothering me for a lunch date since she was in New York for the month, so I took him and two of his friends out to Italy for a long weekend,” She went on, ripping up a napkin for something to do while she spoke, and she felt Penelope staring at her agog. 

“You took a casual fling to Italy for a change of scenery?” The bubbly woman asked, her mouth dropped in shock, “Can I sleep with you?” 

Derek laughed, and Spencer went bright red when he jumped to ask the same question though he knew it was entirely coarse. Maybe it was the beer loosening his tongue, or maybe it was the fact he wondered what the two of them sitting in a sunny vineyard like a rich old couple would look like, he wasn’t sure. 

“Play your cards right, Princess,” Bugsy teased, clearing her throat to continue, “Anyway. We’re there for two days and the final evening Sean and I get into a bit of a disagreement over something dumb; I think him and his friends were being too loud and we were getting complaints. Anyway, we kiss and make up for the evening, we go out to a club. We go back to the hotel, get jiggy with it as you put it, and when I woke up the next day, the bastard had taken the bag with all our boarding passes and came back to America with his friends without even waking me up.”

Their mouths fell open, Spencer’s brows shooting into his hairline in worry, “That sounds awful, Bug,”

She shrugged again, messing with the pile of ripped up paper she’d created, “It’s nothing. I spoke the language so I got by okay, and luckily I kept all my cash in my purse so I hitched a ride to the airport and got on the next plane, except the only available one landed me in California so I had to wait for a transfer over to Baltimore. By the time I got back, his roommate said he was with some other girl,”

“What an asshole,” Derek said, shaking his head as he said so, but Bugsy raised her shoulders again. 

“I really know how to pick them,” She said, swirling her lime piece around the bottom of her glass, “Anyway, the hotel staff felt bad for me and gave me a free bottle of Pinot Noir on them so it didn’t work out all bad,” 

Sensing it was somewhat of a sticky subject, Penelope jumped in with her usual wit, “As much as I would love to give you the shot, buttercup, this gal took a bullet on her last bad date so I will be collecting that prize if it’s all the same to you,” She said, her bubbly attitude quickly throwing metaphorical glitter over the subject, collecting Bugsy's empty glass and her own together as her and Morgan moved to shuffle out of the table for another round. 

Bugsy’s eyes widened, “What?” She stopped, and she looked at Spencer to see if they were playing some sort of joke on her only to see him unsurprised, “What!?” 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time, sweet cheeks. Right now I have a tequila, salt and lime with my name written all over it,” Penelope chirped, waltzing up to the bar with her muscle two paces behind her as he drew out his wallet to put down for the next round of drinks. 

“Well, I suddenly feel like an asshole for complaining about being left in a nice hotel alone,” Bugsy said, her head resting on her hand as she looked over at Spencer who ran his finger over the emerald green bottle. 

He snorted, “Tell me about it, I said that my last date went wonderfully,” 

They met eyes in the dark lowlights of the bar and shared an amused grin, like they knew it was cynical for them to laugh except they really did feel like morons for complaining about how bad they had it when Penelope had all but joked about her situation. 

“I am sorry that happened to you, though,” Spencer said, his hand creeping over the leather seat to where hers sat on her thigh, “That must have been really scary. Why didn’t you call Emily?” 

Bugsy’s face tensed, “We weren’t really speaking then, and I knew if I told her or my mother I’d get the same lecture about being irresponsible and careless. I think I thought I’d rather do it alone,” 

Spencer pouted, braving enough to move his hand up to take hers in his own. Maybe it was the second bottle of low percent beer, or maybe it was because she’d flickered with something genuinely saddened when she’d said it, and Spencer thought that in every  instance of her story she’d had little to no one to turn to for help.

She had been alone, and the thought of it crushed him. 

He grabbed her hand, her head snapping to him and praying she didn’t find pity there because she hated that. Except she just saw him, those mossy eyes looking rounder and more lovely than ever when she regarded him. 

“You don’t have to feel alone ever again, you know that right?” He asked earnestly, giving her fingers a little squeeze, and she felt her tummy do that stupid turn all over again. It was like she had an upset stomach except that was a complete antonym of what it was, like her stomach was so unbelievably overjoyed that she could barely even hold it together without wanting to ask him what it was he had done to suddenly turn her into some sort of feral creature for every little movement he made. 

Except there wasn’t just one thing, it was everything about him. Everything. 

She smiled at him, more bashful than she had ever felt for him, and against her own instincts she slipped her fingers in between his own so they had their every digit laced together, and it was suddenly so much bigger than two friends chatting in a bar. 

She knew it then, felt it realer than ever, like a stop sign slapping her clean across the face and shattering every bone in her skull. 

She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

-

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[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | four

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, teasing, college au, smau/irl

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 0.9k

authors note: maybe my favorite chapter so far. so thankful for all the support on this, I love to see your comments and what you guys think will happen love y'all.

03 | 04 | 05

Friday

Saturday

“Now that we both have our coffees, let’s talk,” Rafe said as both of you sat down.

“Okay…”

“Look, just before we start, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to mess up your plan.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand why you did it. You thought it through more than I did; it’s all good, I promise. But we do need to talk about what happens with this.”

“Are you asking me what we should do?”

“Yes, because the situation right now is weird. I always tell my parents everything, like not in a strange way or—” he cuts you off.

“You have a good relationship with them; I saw that.” You smiled softly.

“Yeah, I do. So, me not telling them that I was dating someone is already a big deal. If, let’s say, next week I tell them we’re not together anymore, it’s going to be weird.”

“Yeah, so how long do you want this to go on for?”

“You really don’t mind doing this for longer than two nights?”

“I told you yesterday it’s okay; it’s not the usual favor, but it’s fine.” Your mind took you back to what Angie had said to you, but you quickly brushed it off. He is just doing this because he likes to help, and he is your friend, you told yourself.

“I just have to be sure.”

“By all means, so how long? Two months?”

“Two months?” you asked, a bit shocked. “I was thinking one…”

“Most couples break up after the three-month mark, not exactly at the three-month mark.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“I’m just saying, if you say you want to make things believable, then let’s ‘break up’ right before Thanksgiving.”

“My birthday is next month.”

“So?”

“Usually, I invite my family and some friends over, and now I would have to invite you. We can’t do this in front of our friends; we need some ground rules.”

“Fine by me.” Rafe took his phone out and opened the notes app to annotate. “One, no one—and I mean NO ONE—has to know besides us.”  

“Copy that.”  

“Two, we pretend only in my house, and when my parents are there, of course.”  

“Yeah, okay. So pretending means what? Because I didn’t do much yesterday.”  

“Like, physical touch is okay when we are with my parents—like holding hands and hugging, I guess.”  

“And kisses?” he smirked teasingly.  

“On the cheek.”  

“Forehead?”  

“Yeah, that too.”  

“Lips?”  he wiggled his eyebrows

“Jesus, Rafe.”  

“It’s a genuine question, Y/N.” You knew he wasn’t really asking; he was just doing it to mess with you.  

“Pecks only, nothing more.”  

“Copy that, ma'am.” He did a little salute while smirking. “Pet names? I already called you princess yesterday. Is that okay, or should I stop?”  

“If you need to use them, then fine; but still the same, only around my parents.”  

“Well, that’s gonna be hard.”  

“That’s not really my problem,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee, and he chuckled.  

“Okay, so we are set… we continue this and break up before Thanksgiving.”  

“Sounds good… oh wait, under no circumstances are you staying over at my house.”  

“Why is this important?” he asked, confused.  

“The last guy I dated stayed over a couple of times because it was too late or something with the weather.” He nodded while you talked.  

“Okay then, no staying over.” He typed on his phone. “Now we are set.”  

“Thank you, Rafe…”  

“You're welcome.”  

After that talk, you two kept the conversation going. It was like the dinner the day before had been a good icebreaker and opened the door to getting to know Rafe and becoming friends. A couple of hours went by, and then you said your goodbyes and went to your respective cars.

Today

Even after your talk with Rafe, you were still anxious about the whole situation. But today was different; it was more of a chill setting—game night, snacks, and living room-only vibes. For most of the afternoon, it was just like that.

Establishing ground rules had improved your dynamic; he knew what he could and couldn’t do, and you knew what to expect, so your anxiety was more under control this time around. He grabbed your hand or played with your hair. It was a good afternoon that extended a bit longer, so of course, when you thought everything was done for the day, it wasn’t.

Your dad seemed to be your biggest enemy this weekend. Since he had told Rafe to stay and watch the basketball game that night, and of course, Rafe said yes. Now you were sitting on the couch with Rafe and your dad, watching a game while you scrolled through your phone, not caring about whatever was happening in front of you. From time to time, Rafe grabbed your thigh in stress, and even though you knew you had given him permission to do things like that, you still felt a bit weirded out by it all.

To take your mind off the whole situation currently unfolding, you decided to give Angie an update on what had happened and what was going to happen. It was also a good idea to keep yourself busy before you went to help your mom with dinner, which Rafe had offered to help with because he wanted to know what made your mom’s food so great.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[yvesssssssss]

Pregnancy shenanigans

Nagumo Yoichi had faced assassins, explosions, and countless near-death experiences in his career. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the absolute chaos of his wife’s pregnancy.

His wife, a beautiful and equally sharp-tongued woman named y/n, was seven months pregnant and had fully embraced her pregnancy cravings, mood swings, and demands. And Nagumo, the world’s greatest hitman, was absolutely powerless before her.

Chapter 1: The Midnight Snack Mission

It was 2:34 AM when Nagumo was jolted awake by a sharp poke to his ribs. He blinked blearily to find (name) staring at him.

"Nagumo," she whispered in a dangerously sweet voice.

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"I need pudding."

"...We have pudding in the fridge."

(name) sighed dramatically. "No. I need the pudding. The one from that fancy shop downtown."

Nagumo groaned. "That place is closed—"

"I thought you were a top-class assassin," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "Can’t you steal some?"

Nagumo scratched his head. "Stealing from a highly secured gourmet store at 2 AM just for pudding—"

(name) sniffled, her eyes welling up. "You don’t love me anymore."

Before she could even finish her sentence, Nagumo was already getting dressed. "Tch, fine. But if I get arrested for this, you’re bailing me out."

Twenty minutes later, he was sneaking past laser security systems, dodging guard dogs, and using his disguise skills to pose as a delivery man just to secure a single tub of pudding. When he finally returned home, slightly sweaty but victorious, (name) had already fallen asleep.

Nagumo sighed, placed the pudding in the fridge, and collapsed next to her.

The next morning, (name) found it and frowned. "Ugh. I don’t want this anymore. Can you get me melon pan instead?"

Nagumo screamed internally.

Chapter 2: The Lamaze Class Disaster

One fine Saturday, (name) dragged Nagumo to a Lamaze class for expecting couples. Despite his protests, she insisted, saying, "If I’m going through this, you’re suffering with me."

Nagumo sat among the other nervous husbands, completely out of place in his casual assassin-wear.

"Now, let’s practice breathing techniques," the instructor said cheerfully. "Partners, hold your wife’s hand and breathe with them."

Nagumo turned to (name), who was already glaring at him. "Don’t mess this up," she warned.

He smirked. "Babe, I’ve fought entire armies. How hard can breathing be?"

Two minutes later, he was wheezing as (name) crushed his fingers in a death grip.

"Yoichi, if you ever complain about pain again after what I’m going through, I will kill you," she hissed, still practicing her breathing.

Nagumo gulped. Maybe fighting an army was easier after all.

Chapter 3: The Baby Shopping Battle Royale

One day, (name) dragged him to a baby store to pick out supplies. She had a detailed list, a determined expression, and a mission-ready mindset. Nagumo, on the other hand, just wanted to go home.

"Okay, we need a stroller," (name) said.

"Can’t we just carry the baby? I’m pretty strong," Nagumo suggested.

(name) shot him a glare that promised violence. "No."

As they browsed the strollers, an overly enthusiastic salesperson approached them. "This one has high durability, perfect for active parents!"

Nagumo tested it by casually flipping it upside down and doing a quick stab motion at the wheels. "Not bad. Good defense, too."

The salesperson looked horrified. (Name) facepalmed.

Later, when they reached the diaper aisle, (name) left Nagumo alone for one minute, and he somehow ended up in a full-blown fight with another dad over the last pack of premium diapers.

"Sir, please stop fighting in the baby aisle!" the store clerk begged.

Nagumo, holding the pack victoriously, smirked at the unconscious opponent. "Survival of the fittest, baby."

(name) dragged him out before they got banned.

Chapter 4: The False Alarm

One night, (name) suddenly gasped. "Nagumo, I think it’s time."

Nagumo, who had been sharpening his knife, froze. "Huh!?"

"I think my water just broke!"

Panic mode activated. Nagumo moved faster than he ever had before—grabbing the hospital bag, calling the doctor, and throwing on his coat at lightning speed.

But then…

(name) blinked. "Oh. Wait. I just spilled my drink. False alarm."

Nagumo nearly collapsed.

"Well," (name) mused. "Since you’re already up, can you make me some pancakes?"

Nagumo sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I got you."

The Real Deal

Two months later, when the real moment finally arrived, Nagumo was ready. He had already plotted the fastest route to the hospital, memorized the breathing exercises, and had even bribed the nurses to let him sneak in snacks for (name).

As he held his newborn daughter for the first time, he smirked. "Guess I didn’t mess up too bad, huh?"

(name), exhausted but smiling, reached for his hand. "You did good, idiot."

Nagumo grinned. Being a top assassin was one thing, but being a dad? That was a whole new mission.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 11 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: The days leading up to the ball become fewer but a harsh reality hits you leaving you more conflicted than you already were. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: No real warnings a/n: So yeah...it's been a while. Sorry it took me so long to update this story and sorry it's so short but I wanted to bring this one back into the light. I know I keep on saying the ball is in the next chapter but it really will be in part 12 I promise. I wanted to make this chapter longer but I figured I made you guys wait long enough...plus I needed to reintroduce something I spoke about in the first chapter. Start from the beginning

The next couple of days go by in a blur. 

Extra long lessons with Jungkook after my seemingly never ending lectures have my head pounding. 

"Miss y/n?" my professor calls me over to his desk, finishing up my last lecture before I have to go see Jungkook. "Yes?" I ask and wait patiently for him to hopefully get to thee point sooner rather than later. 

"The submission deadline for the writing contest is this weekend. Have you submitted your piece?" he asks, looking up at me through his glasses from his seated position.

I curse at myself internally, having completely spaced about it.

"I haven't but I plan on doing so as soon as I can! The deadline is Sunday night right?" I pray, hoping that I'm correct. "It's Saturday night at 11:59 pm. Do you think you'll be able to complete it in time?" he questions, adjusting his glasses. 

"Yes, of course. They won't be holding the awards ceremony until next month though correct?" I ask and he hums, confirming my suspicions. "Should be around two or three weeks after depending on how many submissions they get" 

I nod and thank him once more for the opportunity and luckily the reminder as well and quickly rush out. I choose to text Jungkook this time the reason why I'll be a few minutes late again, hoping that'll keep him from nagging me about it too much

~~~~~

"You seem...distracted today" Jungkook points out, watching as I wondered off in thought for the fifth time today. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. What were you saying?" I ask, feeling guilty since he's gone out of his way to go through the guest list of the rsvp'd attendees of the ball this weekend. Making sure to tell me a little about each family to hopefully prepare me for the kinds of people that'll be there and how to compose myself around them.

"Let's take a break, otherwise you'll start mixing everyone up" he chuckles and sits down in a chair that's more or less facing me. 

"Are you alright?" he asks, tilting his head and taking note of the wrinkles between my brows as I'm clearly fighting some sort of internal battle that doesn't involve him today. 

"I have this writing contest that I had completely forgotten about and the due date is this Saturday" I sigh, slumping in my chair but this time he luckily doesn't scold me for it. 

"The same day as the charity ball..." he trails off and I nod, covering my face with my hands.

"He told me about it over a month ago" I grumble and Jungkook chuckles warmly at my inner turmoil. I groan as a response and he decides to not tease me about it anymore. 

After a while of sitting in silence he pulls my hands away from my face, making me glare at him as a response.

"Today is Tuesday correct?" he asks and I respond with a sigh of a small 'yes'. "I have an idea then" he says, peaking my interest. "Why don't we spend part of our time on our lessons and the rest of the time on your paper" he offers making my brows furrow.

"You'd do that for me?" I say, sitting up straight in my chair, trying to figure out if this is a joke or not but he simply nod.

"I don't see why not. You've been doing well in all of your lessons with me and I think you're more than prepared for the ball so there's no need to beat a dead horse. We'll just spend a little bit of our time getting to know the attendees and do a dance or two to keep you sharp and then I'll help you with your paper" he says and get's up to clear a space on his desk. 

"You'll help me?" I question, his willingness to sacrifice our lesson time for my extracurriculars surprising.

"I know it's important to you and if there's any way I could be of any sort of help to you then just let me know. You can work at my desk if you'd like" he says, picking up my bag that he knows has my laptop in it and bringing it over to said desk. 

It's times like these where he's sending me mixed signals of going from an etiquette teacher to someone who seems to truly care about me that makes me almost want to ask him questions like 'What are we?' or 'What are your intentions with me?' but even that last one is too open ended. 

"Are you alright?" he asks, when I haven't moved a muscle to walk over to his desk yet leaving me shaking my head in a way to get me out of my train of thought. 

"Yes. Sorry, yes I'm fine. I'm just trying to figure out what sort of topic I'd like to write about" I explain, owning up to what my partial train of thought might've been earlier. 

"Well what sort of contest is it? Is it for an article? A study?" he asks, going at it with a more academic approach, which makes sense in this case it's anything but that.

"It's creative writing. Basically anything from stories of love to poems of heartbreak to even the most suspenseful horror thrillers you could come across!" I say, getting more excited as time goes by, thinking about all the possibilities and topics I could write about. 

Picking one though is going to be difficult.

"Have you chosen your genre yet?" he asks and I plop myself down on his desk chair, sighing and opening up the blank document that I've been staring at off and on for weeks. 

"You haven't even started it?" he sighs and I shake my head, disheartened at the thought of waisting so much of my precious free time with nothing to show for it.

"What do you usually write about?" he asks, helping me work through the creative process. "Mostly love stories" I sigh and when I look up at him I see him smiling down at me, "Don't laugh" I glare and he holds his hands up in surrender. 

"I wasn't laughing, I was smiling. There's a difference" he smirks and brings a chair over to sit near me. "Yeah well don't do that. It makes me feel like you're mocking me for being a lovesick schoolgirl" I grumble and he chuckles. 

"Aren't you?" he says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin on his fist, giving me that infuriatingly attractive grin he knows does wonders on a girl's nervous system. "No, I'm not. Now would you please be quiet if you're not going to be helpful" I huff, pulling the flyer out of my bag and giving it a once over. 

"Okay enough with the teasing I'll help" he says and looks over my shoulder to check it out as well before I hand it to him and go looking through my Pinterest board to see if I can find some inspiration.

"Have you ever written a love story set in the eighteen hundreds? Something to do with kings and queens? Princes and Princesses?" he suggests and I know for a fact that I haven't. "Isn't that a little too cheesy with the whole fairytale kind of route?" I say, pointing out how cliché it would be.

"Not if I help you" he offers and I look at him suspiciously. "What sorts of people do you think I would have to study in order to be a proper etiquette teacher?" he says, his words answering the question I had telepathically asked. 

"I guess you'd be the perfect collaborator in that respect" I admit and he nods and moves his chair closer making me lean away from him as a response. 

"You know I don't bite pretty now come on, we've got some work to do" he taunts, slipping in that pet name he knows messes with my head, leaving me scoffing in response before turning back to the blank document staring me in the face on my computer screen. 

~~~~~

The next two days we do just as he had said, spending an hour or two on my lessons and the rest on my story. However rushed it is I feel like it's my best story yet. 

The research on the time period has been simple since Jungkook's had all the answers and if not he finds them out for me, making this whole piece seem even more authentic.

When I take breaks Jungkook pours over the text, doing edits here and there and talking me through the scenes to help formulate some parts a little more artistically, making the regal setting come to life. 

Friday has been a different story, as both deadlines approach us the time we have left is in conflict of where our priorities should lie.

"We can skip our lesson today" Jungkook finally says after I've put my heels on. "But tomor-" "You're ready" he say, cutting me off mid sentence. "Spend the rest of your time on your story" he smiles softly and places a hand on my shoulder before leaving the room, no doubt to get us some sustenance to keep us going.

Something about the interaction made my heart flutter. His confidence in me as well as his want for me to spend time on something I'm truly passionate about makes a sort of funny feeling settle in my stomach. 

Am I-?

"Black or green tea this time?" he asks, coming back into the room with a little tray of food and tea pot ready to envelop the tea leaves of choice. "Black please, I need all the energy I can get" he chuckles and does just that, adding a few scoops to the pot before closing the lid and letting it steep. 

"Were you able to work on it again once you went home?" he asks, bringing my bag over to his desk and pulling my laptop out for me. "I did but it's hard to work on it without yo- without being here" I say, not wanting to admit that I in some way needed him, my cheeks heating up at the slip up.

"Right" he smiles, not sparing me a glance as he plugs in my charger and pulls the chair out for me. 

"Is everything alright?" he asks once he sees my hesitance in coming closer but I shake my head and as a result shake myself out of the headspace I had allowed myself to trail into.

"There's nothing to be nervous about" he says, reading me perfectly like he always does. "What if it's not good enough?" I sigh, my hands resting in my lap, not making moves to reach for the keys. 

"It's a beautiful story told from the heart about a love so true one could only dream to experience something so heartbreaking" he says and his compliment however sincere seems unable to reach me now.

Once he's seen my head droop further he turns my chair around and crouches in front of me, tilting my chin up the slightest bit. "Your writing is beautiful. Anyone who's eyes get to land on a single word of yours should thank their lucky stars" he says making me smile just the slightest bit.

"There she is" he says with a warm tone, one I had never heard before making my heart flutter once again. 

"Now come on" he says spinning me back around to face the screen. "We've got a deadline to meet do we not?" he says and places his hands on my shoulders as a way to show some confidence and solidarity, believing in me until his last breath.

"We do indeed" I chuckle softly and finally rest my fingers upon those familiar keys.

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 7- For The First Time

Summary: Eight days ago, you kissed Frankie Morales for the first time. Eight days later, you want to do more than just kiss him.

Word count: 8.6K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) protected p in v sex, loss of virginity/first sexual experience for Frankie and Reader (some brief mentions of momentary discomfort bc of it) oral (f receiving- building the lore for Pussy Eating King Francisco Morales brick by brick), vaginal fingering, Frankie's got a big dick (it's also part of the lore, don't @ me) sweet and awkward teenage love, Frankie being everything and more, lots and lots and lots of consent, a four letter word that starts with an L, please don't yell at me, they're both 18 at this point in the story!!!

A/N: Soooooo all of a sudden I blinked a this was 8K plus words WHOOPS 🤠 I ain't gonna lie with y'all, this may be one of my favorite things I've ever written and have cried the whole way through it 😭 My plan was to have Frankie picking up MacKenzie from work in this chapter too, but obviously things got away from me very quickly, so that will be next chapter's problem!! Your kind words about this story mean so much to me, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!!! 🥺💕

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Summer of 2007, Age 18 

123 days. 

That night Frankie told you he had made up his mind to join the Army after he finished with high school, you counted out every square on your calendar from April 15th to August 16th. You had 123 days left together before you left for college and Frankie left for boot camp. 

But April 15th was 2 months ago. 67 days ago, to be exact. Each day you crossed off your calendar filled you with a little more dread than the last. You tried not to think about the dwindling number, or the impending doom of August hanging behind July and June on the wall above your desk, but it was hard to not let the thought constantly nag in the back of your mind that the carefree summer days of spending practically every waking minute with Frankie were coming to an end. 

The only thing that seemed to put you at ease was just that- after the hurt and sadness of Frankie’s departure had subsided enough, you had promised each other that the last bit of time you had together, you’d do everything in your power to make the most of it. 

If there was anything you knew the other was good for, it was keeping a promise. 

There was no denying that the past 67 days spent with Frankie had been nothing short of magical. It seemed like for once in your life, everything was falling into place exactly how you wanted it to. 

Your soccer team had won the state championship, Frankie being the first to rush onto the field to congratulate you on your victory after cheering for you at the top of his lungs the whole game. The stress of school seemed to become irrelevant, your teachers easing up as you came to the close of your Senior year, you and Frankie’s after school hangouts now focused less on homework and more on goofing around. Graduation had come and gone, you and Frankie both walking across the stage of your high school gym, diplomas in hand, teasing the other relentlessly about how awful the other looked in the stupid, tasseled caps they had forced you to wear. 

Then, there was prom.

It had been no question that you and Frankie were going to prom together- it was an unspoken, standing agreement that the both of you had since the start of your senior year. For as much as homecomings or school dances had never been your (or Frankie’s) preferred way to spend a Saturday night, there was an undeniable excitement you had about it you couldn’t really quite describe. You kept chalking it up to the fact it was the biggest night of your senior year, or that all your best friends were gathering together to have an incredible party filled with dancing and fun. 

But neither of those things could account for the butterflies in your stomach when Frankie showed up at your front door, tuxedo on and flowers in hand, watching his jaw drop and heart stop when he laid eyes on you. 

“You look beautiful, MacKenzie.” 

From that moment on, those 4 words hadn’t stopped ringing in your ears. 

They rang in your ears as he held your hand the entire night, refusing to unlock his fingers from yours. 

They rang in your ears as you felt him grab your waist while you danced. 

They rang in your ears as he lovinging teased you about your drunken hiccups off sips of stolen beer cans in Santi’s basement where the party had traveled to long after prom had finished. 

They rang in your ears in the middle of your moonlit street as Frankie walked you home, making it no less than ten steps past Santi’s porch before he froze, staring at you like a trembling deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, weirdo?” 

“There’s something I wanna do. I’m terrified you’ll hate me forever if I do it, but I’ve wanted to for so long and I don’t think I can wait anymore.” 

“Frankie, what are you-” 

“Can I kiss you, MacKenzie? Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.” 

“F-Frankie, I-” 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget that I-” 

“I was scared you would never ask.” 

It wasn’t until then you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss Frankie Morales. 

Now, you’re absolutely sure that you never want to stop kissing him. 

There’s something about the warmed, welcomed June air that makes you want to throw every caution you’ve ever had to the wind, finally understanding what all of those books and movies had meant about falling victim to a summer fling.

Ever since that night at prom, Frankie Morales was the only thing in the world that mattered. It had only been eight days since his lips had met yours under the midnight moon, but every day since, neither of you had passed up a chance to sneak away for stolen kisses and bodies tangled in messy dances of limbs, finding any excuse to spend a moment alone together. 

Maybe your pink cheeks and goofy grins were enough to let the world know how hard you had fallen for your best friend- even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t care. Right now, consequences don't exist. 

Right now, the only thing that does is you, Frankie, and a four letter word that lingers in the back of your mind. 

They especially don’t exist when you’re wide awake at one in the morning for the third night in a row, unable to sleep as butterflies rumble in your stomach and fly up to your chest after another day spent with the boy four doors down. 

You toss and turn under your sheets, unable to stand staring hopelessly at your ceiling another minute. You reach across your bed, plucking your phone off your nightstand, finding Frankie’s name in your messages. 

You: 

Hey, are you still up? I can’t sleep 

It’s barely ten seconds before his contact is lighting up your screen, making your heartbeat just a little faster.

Frankie :) <3

Im up 2. I cant sleep either 

Cant stop thinking about u 

You: 

Me either, even though we literally spent all day together haha 

You smile at your screen as you wait for Frankie’s response, fingers anxiously tapping on your keyboard until your phone lights up again. 

Frankie :) <3

Do u wanna come over? 

I wanna see u 

Your face scrunches in confusion, sitting up in your bed to peer out your window, like Frankie would be able to see your puzzled expression from down the street as you type back. 

You: 

I mean, yeah, but it’s 1 AM Frankie??? What about your mom? 

Frankie :) <3 

Shes working overnight at the hospital 

She wont be back until like 9 tomorrow 

Its just me 

You’re unsure of how to describe the feeling that’s beginning to brew in your stomach as you read his last three texts. A strange mix of excitement and anticipation washes through you at the idea of letting yourself indulge in the teenage rebellion of sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night. An even stranger mix of nerves and something else you can’t quite explain floods your veins at the idea of sneaking out of your house to find Frankie, alone in his bedroom. 

The feeling you quite can’t explain churns faster in your gut and travels down your lower half when you realize if you’re alone with Frankie in his bedroom, you want to do more than just kiss him. 

You: 

Are you sure?? 

Frankie :) <3

Promise 

I really wanna see u Kenz 

At this point, the strange feeling that’s seeped through every inch of your body must have made it to your brain, because you’re convinced it’s the reason you don’t know how to breathe anymore. 

You: 

Okay 

I’ll be over in 10 :) 

Frankie :) <3 

Ok :) 

Come in thru the back door  

Txt me when ur there and ill let u in 

You’ve never been up and out of your bed so quickly, fumbling with your comforter and pillows just enough to resemble something close to a body under your sheets if god forbid either one of your parents wakes up and decides to check on you for the first time since you were a toddler. 

Your breath trembles, inhaling and exhaling in long and deep rises of your chest, carefully tiptoeing across your bedroom floor. You’d give anything to be in something cuter than your pajamas, but opening your closet seems like too risky of a move in your plot to escape. 

You grab Frankie’s sweatshirt hanging over your desk chair, quietly shuffling it over your head before attempting to use the moonlight spilling in through your window as enough illumination to comb your fingers through your messy hair and wrangle it into a quick braid. It’s hard to tell from the half lit reflection staring back at you in the mirror, but you pray the once over you give yourself is enough to keep you from looking like a complete mess when you show up at Frankie’s door. 

The adrenaline of it all seems to kick your nerves to the curb as you stuff your phone in Frankie’s sweatshirt pocket before your fingers gently wrap around the curve of your doorknob. As soon as you open the door, you’re well aware of the ramifications that could await you on the other side. 

You’re also well aware that consequences are temporary, and no amount of fear of future punishment is keeping you from making it to Frankie’s bedroom tonight. 

It’s a James Bond worthy performance, the way you sneak down your staircase, avoiding every crack and creak with expertise, stealthily sliding past your parents bedroom and across the family room until you’ve crept through your kitchen to find your back patio.

You flinch with every squeal of the sliding glass door as you nudge it open, just enough to squeeze your body through. You grimace your face in fear as you pause, back to the bricks of your house, waiting for someone to catch you in the act. 

A few moments pass and the silence of your home stays stagnant, giving you the all clear to bolt across your backyard, dashing through your neighbors lawns until you find yourself at Frankie’s, hands shaking as your fingers punch at your keyboard. 

You: 

I’m here! Let me in!  

As your thumb presses send, your adrenaline has waived just enough to let the anxious tension take hold of your body, palms sweating and heart racing so fast it just may beat out of your chest. Your teeth gnaw at your fingernails, waiting for his response to text you that he’ll be right there, or he’s about to let you in, but this is Frankie- It should be no surprise when he opens the back door immediately. There’s not a chance in hell he hasn’t been waiting for you down here since the moment you texted him you were coming. 

“Hi.” You whisper, biting down your lip to contain the smile that’s spread across your face as he’s opened the door. 

“Hi.” He whispers back, tongue darting between his lips as his eyes wander up and down your frame before locking with yours. 

His palm grazes your cheek, cradling your jaw as he steps into you, chest to chest while your lips lock in a gentle, electric kiss, the kind that makes you want the taste of him to linger on your tongue forever. 

“You wanna go up to my room?” He asks, the hot breath of his words dancing across your skin as his mouth still hovers over yours. 

Before, you would have quipped him with some sort of witty, sarcastic response, teasing him that you’d rather stay out in the pitch black and get eaten by mosquitos until he dragged you inside, eyes rolling at your sass. Now, the best you can manage are shaky breaths while you nod your head in agreement, praying your brain will let you form some sort of coherent thought before you speak. 

Frankie grabs your hand as he pulls you into his house, taking the familiar path through his kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, the pounding in both your chests filling the silence for the words you seem to lack. 

He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him as you make it to his room, your bodies tangling and intertwining in a frantic dance, stumbling across the floor until the backs of Frankie’s knees collide with the bed, the two of you toppling over in soft giggles onto the mattress. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” Frankie sighs, one arm wrapped around your hip and the other resting on your face as he leans back in for another kiss, your smiles pressed against each other. 

“It’s only been like, three hours since I saw you last, dummy,” You quietly snicker, letting your hands wander up his chest, “You really missed me that much?” 

“Yeah, really.” He replies in between kisses, fingers digging just a little bit deeper into your side, “I can’t stop thinking about you, Kenzie. You’re all I think about. You’re all I ever wanna think about.” 

You try to swallow the lump that’s lingering in your throat, but with each second that passes, it seems to grow, trapping the words your brain is fighting to get out. The simple bliss you’ve found in pressing your mouth to Frankie’s has become overshadowed by the looming tension spreading through you as you imagine the soft plush of his lips across your skin, or the way you want his hands to creep down the waistband of your shorts and ease the ache that’s been building between your legs. 

Your body freezes at the realization that you want to tell him that you can’t stop thinking about him either, that you can’t stop thinking about the fact you want more than just his lips pressed against yours, how you want him to be the first one you feel inside you, that he’s the only one you ever want. 

That there’s nothing more than you want to be his. 

It doesn’t take long for Frankie to realize he’s making out with a half open mouth, pulling away with concern as he studies the pained expression across your face. 

“Kenz, a-are, are you okay? D-did I do something wrong?” Frankie stammers, gulping as he shifts himself to follow your lead and sit up on the bed. 

“N-no, no, it’s just that- fuck- I just- fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” You stutter, face growing hotter and hotter as you furrow your brow, eyes peeled to Frankie’s blue and green plaid sheets as you try to find the words you want so desperately for him to hear.

Frankie reaches out his hand, gently resting it on the bare skin of your thigh, just below the hem of your pajama shorts. You glance down at the way his fingers carefully rub back and forth, trying to calm your nerves enough to look at him. 

“It’s okay, Kenzie. Whatever it is, I’m- I’m here to listen.” He responds, trying his best to be the anchor in your storm, despite his own nearly shot nerves. 

“I- I- I really like you, Frankie.” 

“I really like you too, Kenz.” He smiles softly, just enough teasing inflection in his tone to get you to giggle, just a little. 

“I just- I- um, do you- Frankie, do you- do you ever think about doing more than just kissing me?” 

A stark silence fills the room, quiet enough that each breath through your nose and thump in your chest amplifies and echoes in the space between you. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek watching Frankie’s face go blank, eyes widening with every second he lets your question process. His Adam’s Apple bobs in sync with the trembling exhale he takes before he looks back at you, praying that your word vomit hasn’t led to a detrimental mistake. 

“Do um, holy shit- you mean like, l-like what? Like, like, h-having sex? W-w-with you?” 

He’s panting like he’s just finished a marathon, his eyes darting wildly between you and his sheets, terrified to answer your question with anything else but his own question to make sure he’s really just heard what you said. 

The tops of your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you nod your head just enough, the subtle shake just enough to let him confirm his suspicions that you’re asking as a way of letting him  know how often it’s crossed your mind. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I think about it.” He stammers, feeling his fingers tremble against your skin, hand still resting on your thigh, “D-do- do you? Um, think about it?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper, voice shaking as you reach down to lay your hand over his, letting your fingers slide between the gaps between his knuckles until they intertwine, gripping each other tightly, there was no chance the other could float away. 

The silence shifts to a different type of tension, a thickness in the air so palpable, it makes it just as hard to move as it does to breathe. The two of you stare at the interlocked hand resting on your thigh, stuck in a game of chicken of who dares to make the first move into the uncharted territory you’ve entered. 

“I- I’ve never-” 

“Me either.” Frankie interjects, cutting off the end of your statement.

It’s almost humorous to admit it out loud, like the both of you didn’t already share every detail of your lives with one another, and had somehow managed to let this fact fall between the cracks.

The two of you let out quiet laughs to yourselves, finding comfort in the comradery to work up enough courage to let your gazes meet again, wondering if Frankie can see the same yearning in your eyes as you see reflected in the soft brown his. 

“MacKenzie, I- I-” he mutters, scrunching his face with his swallow, trying to compose himself, “I only wanna do what you wanna do. I don’t- um, I don’t want you to think that if- if you don’t want to, o-or whatever, that I would be mad. I promise I would never, ever be mad at you because of that. Y-you know that, right?” 

“I know.” 

There’s not a part of you that doubts it. Not for a second. You know that there’s no one else on the face of this earth you trust more than him. 

There could be no one else but him. 

“You know I would never be mad at you either, right?” You ask, relieved as you watch Frankie gently nod his head. 

You’re not sure if it’s instinct or the weight of the tension that makes you lean into him, foreheads pressing together so that the messy curls of his sleepy hair are tickling your skin. You can hear how hard his heart is beating, waiting on your every breath as he leans back into you. 

“I want to. I want you, Frankie.” 

“F-fuck- Are you sure?” He asks, his free hand creeping across the sheets, carefully sliding up your thigh and under his sweatshirt you’re wearing, letting his fingers toy at the softness of your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, your own hand traveling up his leg and towards the tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. 

“I-if it’s too much, t-tell me to stop, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you, MacKenzie.” 

“I know you will. I trust you, Frankie.” 

“O-okay.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s then your mouths crash together in a messy dance of tounges and teeth, an instant electricity igniting in your core with anticipation and want. It’s frantic yet sensual, the way there’s nothing more you want than him, but can’t bear to miss a moment to take it all in, savoring every second you melt into him.

As your hands wander across each other’s bodies, Frankie shifts you to lay on your back so he can cage his frame over yours, the ends of his fingers barely daring to roam any farther than just below your hips or too far above your stomach. 

“C-can I take off your shirt?” He asks, already breathless at just the sight of you underneath him. 

“Technically your shirt, Morales.” You smirk, making his cheeks turn even more pink at the way you giggle when you say his name. 

“It’s yours now, looks way better on you than it does on me. Drives me fucking crazy seeing you in my clothes, Kenz.” He grins, carefully tugging your sweatshirt and the shirt underneath it above your head as you lift up your arms, helping him wriggle it free. 

As you pop out from under the fabric, the first thing you notice is the way Frankie’s jaw is hanging open, eyes wide as can be as they stay glued to your bare chest. 

“Holy shit.”  Frankie whispers to himself, tongue darting between his lips, staring at the way your nipples have hardened from being exposed and aroused. “Um, w-wow.” 

Seeing you topless sparks something in him to do the same, reaching over his shoulder to tug his t-shirt off his back and over his head, leaving nowhere for the heave of each heavy rise and fall of your chests to hide. 

Slowly, Frankie lets his hands slide up your stomach until he’s palming your breasts, grouping each one in his hands, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against your sensitive buds. 

He leans down to kiss you, starting at your lips before trailing down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your chest, carefully kissing each handful he has in his grasp. 

You’ve never felt your core ache the way it does now, throbbing with want and need for more, just from the way Frankie’s groping you. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling- you’ve touched yourself before with this exact scenario playing in your mind, but never has it made you feel like this. 

“Y-you can take off my shorts, i-if you want.” 

“O-kay.” 

The gentleness of Frankie’s gaze makes your heart skip a beat, the chocolate brown of his eyes locked on yours as he scoots himself down the bed until he finds himself settled between your legs, now parted open for him. 

It’s then you’re overtly aware that Frankie is about to see you completely naked, a new wave of anxiety crashing through you as heat rises in your cheeks and makes you fidget the fabric of his sheets between your fingers. 

“I- I- I’m not wearing cute underwear. S-sorry.” You stammer, wincing as Frankie’s thumbs begin to dip below your waistband. 

“Seriously, Kenz?” He chuckles, pausing in his tracks to shake his head in disbelief, “Do you really think I care what underwear you have on right now?” 

“Well, n-no, but-” 

“You really think I’m about to turn down having sex with you because you’re not in the right underwear? That you won’t even have on in like, three seconds?” Frankie snickers, trying to help ease your clearly visible nerves. 

“Shut up.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you playfully swat at him, forgetting about the fact you were topless and immediately clamming up again as you felt your breasts sway against your chest. “S-sorry, I- I’m just kinda nervous.” 

“Why are you nervous?” Frankie questions gently, wrapping his hand around your calf, thumb softly circling your skin. 

“Well you’re about to see me naked for the first time, Frankie. I think that’s a pretty fair reason to be nervous.” You force the stifled laugh stuck in your throat, attempting to uphold any confidence you have left in your facade. 

“You’re about to see me naked too, Kenz. Would it make you feel better if you saw me pantless first?” 

He says it like he’s teasing, but you know there’s a part of him that’s serious- that he’d do anything to make you feel better, even something as simple as being the first to forgo any clothes on his bottom half. 

“No, I know, Frankie, it’s just-” 

“Do you know how beautiful I think you are?” 

It catches you off guard, how quick he is to stifle your protest, the warmth of his words flushing your cheeks, now shifting to fit the delicate grin that’s growing between them. 

“You’re so beautiful, MacKenzie. Everything about you, I swear.” 

He must feel the butterflies churning in your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to grab your sides, leaning over to press soft kisses just above your waistband. He stares up at you once more, giving each other subtle nods of reassurance as his fingers play with the elastic, carefully helping you to lift your hips just enough to shuffle your bottoms down your legs until they’re a crumpled pile on the floor. 

It eases the tension that’s built throughout your body as you watch in real time how Frankie’s brain short circuits, mesmerized by the view that’s revealed itself between your legs. You timidly squirm your lower half against the sheets, just enough to feel the sticky warmth of your arousal that’s been pooling since the minute you stepped foot in Frankie’s bedroom. 

“H-holy- holy fuck. O-oh my god.” Frankie murmurs to himself, eyes locked on the puffy, wet mess of your pussy, “MacKenzie, I- wow. C-can, um, can I touch you?” 

“Mmhmm. Y-you can touch me, Frankie. F-fuck, I want you to. Please.” You whisper, letting your legs part for him more, clit pulsing with anticipation to feel Frankie’s fingers. 

“I-if it doesn’t feel good o-or, you know, you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?” 

“Okay, Frankie.” 

You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this wound up, every throb of your core pulsing through your body with so much intensity you’re convinced you may explode if Frankie doesn’t touch you this second. 

The pads his fingers gently slide over your swollen lips, collecting the slick that clings to them before he brings them to your clit, his precise and delicate touch still making you gasp the moment he starts to circle around your sensitive nub. He swirls his fingers with the lightest touch like you’re made of glass, scared he’ll break you if he dares to push too hard. 

“You can, fuck- you can press more if you want.” 

“Okay. I just- I didn’t wanna hurt you, or anything.” 

The corner of your lips curl with a soft smile, the stiffness in your muscles relaxing with how warm and safe he makes you feel. 

“I-in the same place, though? Same circles, just like, more pressure?” He asks, quietly calculating his next move as you shake your head in response. 

Frankie begins to circle again, slowly increasing the weight of his fingers against your clit, brushing against it in just the right way to make you whimper in delight. 

“Oh my god-” You sigh, breath hitching in the back of your throat. 

“Good oh my god, or bad oh my god?” Frankie questions, terrified he’s done something to upset you. 

“No- no, good oh my god. K-keep doing that.” You stammer, pulse quickening as a familiar tingle of pleasure begins to build in your stomach. 

Your reassurance gives Frankie the boost of confidence he needs, drawing tight circles around your nub with the pads of his fingers for a few moments, until his thumb takes over, leaving his middle two fingers free, ghosting over your entrance. 

There’s a louder moan as Frankie barely slips his middle finger inside of you, lightly prodding in and out of your hole, welcoming the new fullness in the warmth and wet of your walls. 

He pumps a few more times, letting his finger sink deeper with each stroke until he’s knuckle deep, reaching further than any spot you’ve been able to feel yourself. It’s when a second digit joins his first that you feel nearly breathless, the stretch and sting making you wince for a moment as you adjust, realising how much thicker and stronger his fingers are than your own when you touch yourself. 

Frankie immediately notices your tense expression, quickly pulling back, raising his hands like he’s been caught in the act, guilt ridden look painted across his face. 

“Fuck, Kenzie, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s okay, Frankie! It feels good, I promise, your fingers are just a lot bigger than mine.” 

He tilts his head in confusion for a second until the lightbulb clicks with him that he’s not the only one in the room who's ever been horny and taken care of themself to help solve their problem. 

“Wh-what do you think about? Wh-when, when you touch yourself?” He asks with a quiet caution. 

“I- I think about you, Frankie.”

You answer without hesitation. Not to appease him, not to convince yourself, but because it’s the truth. You’ve thought about him more times than you can count. 

Your answer ignites another spark of self-assurance in him, carefully letting his thumb swirl against your clit as his middle finger gently slides back into your entrance, working up to the same tempo he was at a few moments ago. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” He confesses, a willing admittance now that you’re laying your cards out on the table for him. 

“Well, there was one time, a long time ago, I thought about Orlando Bloom after I watched Pirates of the Caribbean.” 

You’re not sure what spurs on your unnecessary addition to your comment, but it makes you and Frankie both snort, needing a moment to compose yourself from your fit of giggles. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re really into pirates?” Frankie laughs, biting down on his lip. 

“No, you dork! That’s not- Jesus, you know what, forget I ever said anything, okay?” You sigh, rolling your eyes at Frankie, trying to will away the reds and pinks that plague your cheeks. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Kenz, don’t worry.” He teases, his smile slowly shifting to a stoic sort of concentration as he stares down at his fingers pressed against your pussy. “I- I wanna try something.” 

“What?” 

“Can I um, can I go down on you?” 

“Wait, really?” 

Despite your own inexperience, you weren’t naive enough to ignore the rumblings from friends of friends, or stories of girls on your soccer team, constantly complaining about how all their boyfriends wanted them to suck their dicks with nothing in return. They’d claim it was gross, or weird, or that it would taste disgusting, so you’d be hard pressed to not believe that every boy under the sun mostly likely found themselves in the same school of thought. 

“Do you not want me to?” Frankie questions, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment you’re sure he feels in his chest at your puzzled reaction. 

“N-no, it’s just that- I didn’t think that- I thought guys thought that was gross.” 

“What? Who said that?” Frankie scoffs. 

“I don’t know, like, Sarah and Morgan from the soccer team always complained about how their boyfriends never wanted to because they said it was gross or whatever.” 

“Well Sarah and Morgan’s boyfriends have a single brain cell left between them after all the hits they’ve taken during football this season.” 

The two of you laugh again, finding relief in the way your friendship prevails through the discomfort. 

“You really don’t think it’s gross?” 

“No. I- I think it’s kinda hot.” 

It’s now Frankie’s cheeks that are flushed with crimson, trying his best to hide his embarrassment. You can tell he has more he wants to say from the way his eyes dart between yours and the bed, forcing you to tilt your head with that little nod he knows means that you’ll keep pestering him until he breaks. Lucky for you, it won’t take much. 

“Santi stole this DVD from his cousin's house, and honestly most of it was so stupid because obviously it's all fake. Like, no one’s that excited to get fucked at a doctor’s office. But anyways, there was this one part at the beginning where uh- where the guy goes down on the girl and I- um, I don’t know. I- I wanted to try it, I guess.” 

“Really didn’t think I was gonna have to worry about not picturing Santi in my head tonight.” 

You and Frankie giggle as you pretend to gag at the thought of Santi becoming a part of you losing your virginity, praying there never comes a day he finds out he’s in part to thank for Frankie’s peaked curiosity. 

“I- I want you to. If you want to.” 

“I want to. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” 

The pace of your pulse begins to quicken again, watching the way Frankie’s face lights up as he races to position himself between your legs, laying flat against the mattress with his face hovering above your heat, his hot, trembling breath tickling your folds. 

You swear he licks his lips before his mouth meets you, but the slow, long drag of his tongue across your clit already has your head thrown back against his pillow, the warmth and wetness lighting you up from the inside out with jolts of electric pleasure. 

He repeats it a few more times, languidly lapping in smooth and steady strokes, each with just a little more pressure than the last. It’s instinctual, how you buck your hips towards his face, like your body knows it wants more before your brain can process it, signaling to Frankie you’ve given him the okay to keep going, to give you more. 

Little gasps escape your parted lips as his tongue moves faster, circling your clit the same way he had with his thumb, making your body melt into the mattress. It’s almost unearthly, how good it feels, little fires igniting in your stomach with every flick of his tongue. 

You don’t mean to startle him with how loudly you whimper as he intensifies the pressure, mouth still latched around your clit while his brown eyes peek up at you, breathlessly nodding to him that he shouldn’t dare to stop now. 

He takes it as a sign to test the waters even further, letting his middle finger be sucked into the warmth of your velvety walls before ever so carefully sliding in another. The stretch is still there but the sting has faded, his fingers a welcomed addition to ease the way you realize you’ve been clenching around nothing, subconsciously desperate to fill the empty ache in your core. 

Inch by inch, he sinks them deeper until you feel him bump against a soft spot inside you that makes you scream in a way you’ve never felt before, fireworks exploding everywhere in your body as his tongue and fingers work in tandem. 

A familiar tingle rapidly begins to build at the base of your spine, except the same type of tingle you’ve experienced alone has never multiplied and compounded in the same way this one does. 

Desperate for something to grab on to, one hand fists at Frankie’s sheets, the other, shooting down to the messy curls of his hair, burying your fingers until they disappear under his unkempt locks. 

You’re not sure if you’re so pleasure drunk you can’t think straight, but you swear you can feel that stupid, smug smirk pressed against your pussy as you hold onto him for dear life. 

He keeps the same pace with his tongue, fingers prodding in just the right spot to make you feel like you’re losing control, limbs numb and shaking like jello as you feel the tingle creep down your legs and up through your chest. 

“F-Frankie, I- oh fuck- fuck, oh my god, fuck, I- I- oh my go-ahhhhhhhhhh-”  

It’s all consuming, the way the pleasure washes over you, like waves crashing into the shoreline- relentless and never ending. There’s a moment you’re convinced your body’s left this planet, floating off in space in a cloud of endless ecstasy. 

You’re not sure how long you’re lost in the electricity of it all- Minutes? Hours? Years? You’d believe any and all of the above. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you come to, greeted with the image of Frankie still settled between your legs, wild haired and goofy grinned. 

“Frankie…. Holy fuck.” 

A beaming, boyish smile lights up across his face at the way you’re panting, wiping the shiny slick stained around his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah? D-did it feel good? Did you um- did you-” 

“Yeah. Holy shit. Remind me to thank Santi’s cousin if I ever meet him.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Frankie sighs, rolling his eyes at your giggles, heart melting at the way he can’t hide his rosy cheeks and curled lips every time he looks at you, “It felt good though? Like, Actually?” 

“Yeah, it felt really good, Frankie.” You coo, watching Frankie prop himself up to sit back on his haunches, letting your gaze wander down his bare chest until you reach the clearly tented fabric of his pajama pants, lingering just long enough for him to notice where you’re staring. 

Silent tension fills the room again, the both of you realizing that you’ve only conquered one part of the journey you’ve embarked on together, and that the second half of your travels pose many more risks than the first. Frankie is the only one you want by your side as you brave your adventure together. 

With a little push, your back parts with his mattress, sitting up to close the gap between you. You’re close enough now that your hands can roam up his thighs, softly palming at the stiff bulge straining under his pants. 

“Oh f-fuck-” Frankie stutters, jaw going slack with ever pass your hand makes over his erection. 

“Can I take off your pants, Frankie?” You whisper, burying your head in the crook of his neck, craning your head just enough so that the hot words of your breath dance in his ear. 

You can barely finish your sentence before Frankie’s scrambling off the edge of the bed, standing up straight to give you the easiest access to shuffle his pajamas down while you kneel on the mattress. 

You pray Frankie can’t feel the way your fingers shake as they sink under his waistband and brush against his stomach, pulling his bottoms down just slow enough to memorize the subtle V that sinks between his hips, or the soft trail of barely there brown hair under his belly button that thickens with every tug. 

With one final breath, you slide them down enough to finally free what’s been hiding underneath, his length fully hard, bobbing as it springs free. This must have been what it felt like for Frankie, understanding the way his eyes went wide and brain went blank after he saw you for the first time.

It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, the concept of what he’s had tucked away in his pants.

What does, is how the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of you. 

“F-Frankie… Holy shit.” 

“What? I-is something wrong?” He winces, immediately bracing himself for the worst. 

“No, it’s just- just like, Holy shit, Frankie.” You reiterate, making it very clear you’re more than impressed as you gesture at what’s hanging in front of you. 

“O-oh, t-thanks.” He stutters, a sweet shyness overtaking him as a result of your admiration. 

You scoot yourself closer, a boldness overcoming you as you delicately wrap your hand around his length, slowly sliding it up and down his shaft. You pray that whatever you’re doing feels okay, but from the way Frankie’s whimpers and moans escape from his parted lips, you take it as a sign you’re safe to take another step further.

“Since you went down on me, do you want me to go down on-” 

“N-no!” He pauses, drowning his face in his palm for the way he’s panicking, making you drop him from your grasp, “No, I- uh- shit- sorry, sorry, no it’s just- No, not because I don’t want you to- b-believe me, I really want you to. Like, really want you to.” 

“O-okay, so?” 

He must feel awful for the puzzled and pained expression on your face, reaching with both hands to cradle your jaw, making sure your gaze is fixated on him. 

“I’m sorry, I promise nothing’s wrong, I just- fuck- I don’t wanna cum yet and I know if you go down on me, I will in like two seconds, and I wanna cum when we’re having sex. I-if you still wanna, ya know, have sex. Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I think I’m- I’m nervous, too. ” 

The top of your teeth graze your lower lip, batting your lashes in heavy, long blinks, your lips curling in a sympathetic smile that you’re not alone in your uneasiness. Finding comfort in the uncomfortability, together. Knowing how easy it would be for him to play it all off like no big deal, or pretend to mask the confidence he lacks, and yet, he doesn’t, makes you want him even more. 

“Do you still want to? I- I’m nervous too, but I want to. It makes me feel less nervous that it’s with you.” 

The tender kiss he plants on your lips as your bodies move in sync down the bed is the only answer you need, shuffling backwards towards the pillows while Frankie hovers his body over you, mouths only parting to let you settle into the mattress. 

Each kiss becomes more frantic and desperate than the last, mouths melting together as your tongues wrestle. The way he kisses you is all consuming, enough to make you feel like the only people in the world that exist in this moment are you and him. 

“You sure you want to?” He gasps, fighting for his words to escape his parted lips. 

“I’m sure.” You whisper back, barely soft enough for him to hear. 

The two of you nod, Frankie shifting his weight to reach across you, shuffling through the drawer of his nightstand until he fishes out the box of condoms he has hidden away. He sits back on his knees, carefully ripping a square from the line of packages, tossing the rest over the side of the bed. He’s even more delicate as he tears the edge of the foil he’s holding in his hands, removing the rubber and methodically rolling it down over his shaft. 

“It’s on right... Right?” 

“Yeah. I practiced putting them on earlier this week so I didn’t look like a complete idiot when I tried to do it the first time. Although I think telling you that probably makes me look like an even bigger idiot.” 

“No it doesn’t,” You softly reassure him, “I’d rather have you do that than put it on wrong. I don’t want any of your babies yet, Morales.” 

Yet. 

You’re not sure what makes your brain decide to add those three letters into your sentence. You’re also not sure why you don’t hate that it did. There’s a part of you that thinks there’s a chance that maybe Frankie didn't hear it, but you know that boy would die before he stopped hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. 

There’s a part of you that also swears he’s trying with everything in him to keep from smiling. 

Your attention shifts with Frankie’s body, hovering back over yours with his fist wrapped around the base of his shaft, sinking his hips to line himself up with your entrance. His tip brushes against your clit, a familiar jolt of pleasure swirling in your stomach at how you clench around nothing, anxious and aching to feel him inside you. 

“I-if it’s too much, or it doesn’t feel good, or you wanna stop, just-” 

“I know, Frankie. I’ll tell you, I promise.” 

Your low exhale syncs with Frankie’s gulp, each of you bracing yourselves as you finally feel his tip breach inside you. You try your best to relax, squirming your bottom half with each inch Frankie sinks himself deeper. You’re sure there’s a wince as he pushes past the halfway point- not painful, but a sting and stretch in a way you’ve never felt. Frankie freezes, gently grabbing your hip. 

“You good, Kenzie? You want me to stop?” 

“No, I’m okay, just kind of stings a little, but it still feels good. Maybe if you didn’t have such a big dick, it wouldn’t be a problem.” You tease, letting out a little huff of laughter. 

It’s now Frankie’s turn to scrunch the muscles of his face, cocking your head at the grit of his teeth. 

“Frankie, are you okay?” 

“Yup. Yup, I’m good. When you laughed it squeezed my dick and it felt really good and I’m trying not to make a fucking fool of myself right now.” 

“Sorry, no more laughing, got it.” You grimace, desperately trying not to giggle at Frankie’s pained concentration as he shakes his head at you. “Y- you can keep going, though.” 

“F-fuck, o-okay.” 

There’s another deep breath before he’s pushing his hips towards you, taking his time as you feel the pain start to shift to indescribable pleasure, the feeling of how full he is inside of you making every wire in your brain short circuit. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Frankie whispers under his breath, “Fuck, you feel so good, MacKenzie.” 

You wish you had the words to tell him how you feel the same, but the best you can muster is a muffled moan that escapes from your unhinged jaw, brain empty at the sweet stretch of his fullness, stagnant inside you. 

F-fuck Frankie. Oh my god.” You murmur, letting the muscles of your face untense so the weight of your eyelids can flutter open, soaking in the image of Frankie above you. The rest of your body follows, slowly beginning to relax as you adjust, yearning for more than just his hips flushed against yours. “Y-you can move, Frankie.” 

He lets his arms sink from the plank he’s holding, letting your chests flush together so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, groaning into your skin with the first thrust of his hips, steadily sliding in and out of your heat, savoring every second of the sensation. 

“You still okay, baby?” Frankie coos into your ear, the new nickname only adding to the way you want to clench down around his length as he keeps his languid pace, dragging his cock along the warmth and wetness of your walls. 

“Mhmmm. You can go faster, i-if you want. F-fuck, it feels so good, Frankie.” 

The way you whimper and whine his name sets off a low rumble deep in his chest, lips locking with yours as you feel him pump just a little harder, his length nudging the same, savory spot he had found before with his fingers. Your hand shoots up to wrap around his bicep, nails marking crescent moons in his skin. 

Every move he makes is solely based on your reaction, reading the way your body responds to him before daring to take a step further. Your iron grip and sweet moans are enough to spur him on further, a steady rhythm now working through each thrust of his hips. 

There’s a new knot in your stomach that starts to tighten, building in your gut and slowly creeping its way to spread throughout your body. The coarse hairs curling at the base of his shaft brush against your clit just enough to spark a jolt of electricity to your core, bucking your hips into his with each thrust. You’re desperate to reach the same high he had given you before, eager to ease the ache of your sensitive bud. 

Frankie picks up on the way you rut back into him, snaking his hand down your front, making just enough space between your bodies to let the pads of his fingers find your clit. The pressure he adds with the circles and swirls makes your breath hitch in the back of your throat, overwhelmed with arousal by how all encompassing Frankie is. 

It’s hard to believe how quickly you find yourself becoming addicted to him, your body yearning to become one with his and never separate. You want your heart, your soul, for all of it to be his, and only his, to be unable to find where you end and he begins. 

The only thing you want is to be his. 

With each stroke, your pussy flutters faster around his length, the tingle that had formed at the base of your spine now seeping through your veins, teetering on the brink of collapse. 

“F-fuck- fuck, Frankie, don’t stop. Fuck, I- I think I’m- I’m close.” 

If it was anyone else, there would be no words to describe the embarrassment from the pathetic whimper you let out at the way Frankie groans while he punches into you. A look of pained concentration splays across his face, focusing with every brain cell he has left to make sure you finish first. 

“Shit- I- I- fuck, I’m close, too.” He stutters, chest heaving in between each word. 

He presses his forehead into yours, meeting you with the tacky sheet of sweat that now clings to his skin and dampens his curls. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body laid across yours- you almost dare to wish that this moment, this feeling, would never end. 

But the way he whispers your name, each letter warm and tickling your skin, a sweet symphony only he can sing is what sends you over the edge, pushing you past the point of no return. 

“M-MacKenzie… f-fuck, MacKenzie-”  

Each syllable is an explosion inside you, lighting you up to send sparks through every last limb until you’re sobbing his name, singing his own sweet song back to him. 

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankiefrankiefrankie-ahhhhh-” 

The dam inside you finally breaks, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you as you squeeze around him, swallowed whole by the electricity of it all. 

There’s not much your mind can process after you snap, but there’s enough strength left to keep your gaze locked on Frankie and the way he gasps as his jaw drops after you’ve finished. He’s just as lost as you, relishing in your afterglow as he chases his own high, each thrust more sloppy and erratic than the last. 

“Fuck, fuck, holy shit MacKenzie, fuck, I’m gonna cum so ha-aaaaahhh-” 

There’s only one last shift of his hips before he’s spilling into the condom, a final moan that follows his release as he collapses into you. Your chests rise and fall in sync, breaths heavy as you pant in the soft silence that fills the room.

The quiet brings a gentle comfort, basking in the bliss that radiates off each of you as you let yourselves drift back to earth, praying it gives you enough time to remember how to speak. 

It’s Frankie who arrives back first, too consumed with your own journey back to hear the way his voice breaks as he carefully whispers your name. 

“MacKenzie?” 

“Yeah, Frankie?” 

“C-can I tell you something?” 

“Anything.” 

His sweet call brings you back, thumb brushing against the warmth of his cheek, waiting on every word he's working himself up to say.

“MacKenzie, I- MacKenzie, I- I think I love you.” 

It's then you're sure your heart stops- four little letters forcing a smile so wide across your face, your positive your cheeks may hurt for days after.

Maybe, if you're lucky, they'll keep hurting like this for the rest of your life.

“Can I tell you something, Morales? I think I might just love you, too.” 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | four.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.5k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/ sexually implied content, sorry more of a filler chapter cause i need to build this up lol 😅 but more oc x yunho!!, taehyun & jihoon tryna play cupid, well ok i guess everyone is at this point lmao, seora and yunho have a lil heart to heart

Monday comes a lot quicker than expected, but you're glad the weekend was better than you thought it'd turn out. Running errands and spending the day with your parents was actually a lot calmer this time around— no bickering or arguing unnecessarily, mom wasn't picking at things or pointing out specific details just to work your last nerve.

It was good. It did make you feel bad for not being better about spending more time with them, though.

But, that's why you vowed to work on it with your brother and you knew you both were serious about making it happen. Better late than never, and you and Wonwoo could admit to your faults. 

That's progress and a way forward, right?

Anyway, the agenda went as promised with your family— you ended up at the grocery store for about an hour before driving down to the pharmacy and different furniture stores until you and your parents settled on a new, good quality couch they were satisfied with. When you had gotten back to the house that afternoon, mom sent you away with towers of food and Yunho hadn't gotten back home yet.

Couldn't help but wonder what his typical weekend was like with his daughter. Was that weird? He seems so laidback [despite his dad tone coming out on Saturday before leaving], it just makes you wonder what him and his daughter do to fill their downtime together.

Must be cute.

When you got back home that afternoon, you had tidied up your place and showered off the early day's activities before preparing a charcuterie board, wine and other finger foods for Noeul and Sian's arrival. It was a much needed sleepover since it had been awhile since the last one— the three of you getting caught up with work and being too exhausted to meet outside of it. You and the girls talked about everything and anything; from new updates on old friends from college and highschool and analyzing every detail of their recent photos on IG, to love, dating and all the juicy one-nights, to what's been on the grocery list lately and then finally, openly exploring the topic of sex toys and all that glory.

Very, very much needed.

In fact, sleeping in the next day and getting breakfast with Noeul and Sian at the cute café nearby was the cherry on top. You finally got to taste that thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt.

Your weekend was better than expected.

For Yunho, it was a bit chaotic; filled with an impromptu sleepover with 11-going-on-12-year old girls screaming and singing at the top of their lungs after a long day of shopping and eating out. They all plopped onto the large air mattress Yunho set up in the middle of the living room, their voices slowly dying down as the hours went on. They didn't fall asleep until a bit past midnight, which is when Yunho decided to finally shut off his TV and get some shut-eye himself.

Then, the morning came and it was chaos all over again. 

He overheard the girls talking and giggling until Seora gently knocked and walked into her dad's room to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open, his daughter sitting on the edge of his bed poking at his cheek. He sleepily chuckled and sat up, ruffling her hair messily while she asked if he could take them to a specific breakfast spot deep into the city. 

A spot that has thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt and other unique delicacies. 

Even though he's exhausted, he gets up and gets ready anyway. Not only because of Seora, but because he can finally get a taste of that fig sesame and honey danish and grab a bag of those milk bread dinner rolls for him and Seora to indulge in.

It's too bad he had just missed you leaving the same spot. 

Monday mornings are usually a drag, especially coming from a much-needed, good, relaxing weekend. But today, you're powered up on coffee and making sure you have your things [and yourself] ready for your meeting with Yunho. You're not sure why you're nervous; perhaps, it goes back to you feeling lost and confused about different aspects of this project. You don't know much about the IT and clinical informatics side, and you don't wanna come off as dumb, clueless.

Especially in front of him.

You're just hoping for the best, and you've sat yourself in the booked conference room to go through old emails, old messages, to get yourself up to speed. You do remember being looped into certain threads, but not paying any attention to it because it didn't particularly concern you at the time— which, is a good thing you did because you definitely would not have known there were specifics about the ordering system that the higher-ups had already asked for and that they were already working on the build. You can ask Yunho where things are at from that point.

That’ll be a good start.

As you continue to busily type away for other aspects of the project and personal tasks, you almost miss the figure that passes by and walks into the room.

"Woah, you're here early. Why?" Your eyes slightly widen at Yunho's tall figure strolling in with a cup or coffee in his hand.

"Because I wanted to be early, but apparently you're earlier." He smirks, plopping down next to you. "Working hard already? Goodmorning, by the way.”

"Sorry, goodmorning.” You scrunch your nose a bit, embarrassed at how you greeted him. “I just.. don't wanna sound dumb in front of you so I've been getting all my notes together." He chuckles.

"Never? No question or thought is dumb, Y/N. I don't expect you to know everything about our team. It's complicated."

"Still, I wanna be prepared."

"You are." He reassures you and it instantly comforts you.

"Are you gonna sit there?" He looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to sit across from you?"

"No, I'm just asking since it's us two. I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable that way." You chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. I hope you don't mind. I invited Taehyun and Jihoon from my team. I thought they could come to meetings in case I'm not around for whatever reason." He shrugs. "Plus, it just helps me to have extra heads involved in case I needa delegate."

"Makes sense, I don't mind. The more the merrier."

"Is it okay to still sit here?" He smiles and you nod.

"Sure." You laugh. There's a small silence that falls between the two of you while you both type away, along with Yunho's Slack notifications going off. But, none of it feels uncomfortable.

"So, how was your weekend with your parents?"

"Good! I just tagged along and ran errands with them. Picked up some meds, groceries. They finally got a new couch for the living room, too."

"Your mom has been talking about getting a new couch for awhile."

"She's definitely happy now." You look at him. "You know, I.. did not know you were the neighbor my mom had been talking about."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Oh yeah, my parents love you and your daughter." You look at him.

"They're great. They take care of us a lot, and I appreciate it. Especially on days when I can't be home right away. Your mom looks after my little-but-not-so-little one." You give him a tiny smile. "I— how come you don't swing by often? If you don't mind me asking."

"Just busy, honestly. My brother, too. He's younger. We get caught up with work and plans."

"Your parents talk about you two a lot. They adore you both and they always hope you'll come by more often."

"I know." You look down at your laptop. "We just suck at slipping in time for them, I'm gonna admit. And it's just.." You pause, not wanting to dump your life story and feelings on Yunho on a Monday morning. He looks at you with a hint of concern in his eyes, but you brush it off. "Anyway, we're trying. We know we needa do better." He smiles a bit. "My brother and I have talked about it and have come up with a plan so that we're slotting in time for them."

"That's all that matters. Are you and your brother close?"

"Very, yes. If you're around next weekend, you might get to meet him because we'll be swinging by together."

"Hm." Yunho hums. "My daughter has a basketball game and it's about an hour out. We might be gone by then, but if you and your brother are around when we get back, I'll gladly stop by to say hi."

"Sounds good. How was your weekend?" You ask and Yunho lets out a small chuckle at the way you try to fill in the silence while waiting for Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Busy. I, uh, hung out with a friend on Friday." He clears his throat. "Then took my daughter and her friends out on Saturday. When I saw you.. that's where we were going."

"Aw cute. Where did you guys go?"

"Well, I picked up one of my bestfriends and we took them to the Samsung Star Mall."

"That's a big mall. Sounds like you were there all day."

"Damn near, yeah. Then, grabbed some takeout, let the girls pick up their things from their homes and headed back to the house. They were yelling and singing like crazy after dinner." You laugh.

"That's very cute." He does a slight head tilt.

"Anything for my daughter." His eyes are glued onto his screen.

"What's her name?"

"Seora."

"That's a beautiful name." He gives you a small toothless smile.

"It is, isn't it?" You nod.

"What'd you do on Sunday? I assume you were able to sleep in since the girls must've been tired."

"Kinda, but Seora ended up waking me and asking if I could bring them to a café for breakfast. They were so excited about it."

"Which?"

"We went to Morning Toast." You gasp and look at him.

"That morning? What time?"

"Like 11?"

"I had literally just left right before it hit 11!"

"Really? That's too bad. It would've been nice to see you." He chuckles a bit, and it makes the heat rise to your cheeks. "Though, I had temporarily adopted like, 2 extra daughters so it was a little crazy. I might've looked a little out of it." He thinks for a minute. "Maybe it was best you didn't see me at that moment." 

"What do you mean? I'm sure it would've been fine if we did run into each other. I'm positive you probably didn't even look that way."

"How could you be so sure, hm?" He teases lightly before chuckling. "I've had pre-teens singing at the top of their lungs at the house and in the car all weekend. Pretty sure your parents probably heard them next door." You laugh.

"Sounds like your house is the place to be. Maybe I'll have to inquire about a quote for hosting my birthday there." 

"I just need about 3 months advance notice." You look at him and shake your head, giggling. At this point, his team lead, Taehyun, walks in with a smile on his face though it's obvious he's a bit stressed and has been running around.

"Hi! Sorry! Was caught up with a ticket." He rushes in, slightly out of breath and frazzled. Behind him is another team member that you haven't met yet. He meets your eyes and gives you a tiny bow with a small smile, slipping into the seat next to Taehyun in front of you.

"Hey, I'm Jihoon." He sits. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting last week. Was tied up with some urgent issues."

"Oh, no worries! It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I'm one of the project managers, mainly supporting the pediatrics unit."

"Good to meet you, too." Jihoon smiles. "It's nice to get some communication from the peds side."

"Yeah, I feel the same." You chuckle. "So, I saw that the build was already in the process." They all nod.

"It sure is. But, I thought it'd be good to give you a brief introduction to both of the IT and clinical informatics team just so you know how we interact." Yunho connects his laptop to the TV, causing you to turn your attention towards the screen. "Is that okay?"

"No, please. I'd love that. Take the floor." He smiles before running his finger down his bottom lip and beginning his presentation. He starts off by re-introducing the three of them before going through the names of his other direct reports. The next bits of his presentation explaining the core tasks his team is responsible for and the differences with the clinical informatics team. He goes through the key people in that team and you find yourself typing away while glancing at the screen every now and then. You find his explanation incredibly detailed but simple enough for you to understand. It's super helpful, and you feel like you've definitely learned a lot from the meeting alone. This was the one area you weren't entirely familiar with, and it was nice that the three were open to answering your questions and clarifying anything that might've seemed confusing. You also learned that they've gotten a good amount of the planning and groundwork done for the main hospital unit. Now, they can focus a lot of their efforts towards the pediatric unit.

At the end of the meeting, Yunho gives you the floor to ask any more questions. You take the opportunity to clarify last minute things that come up before you're satisfied enough to finish up.

"So, let's plan on meeting with the full group next week. Then from there on, biweekly meetings? I'm sure the group won't be opposed unless there's absolutely no updates to provide in that time frame. We can always cancel if needed."

"Good with me, boss lady." Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

"Not even." You chuckle, typing up the last of your notes. "I'm just trying to coordinate and make sure things run smoothly."

"Which is a shit ton since you're overseeing the entire project." Jihoon laughs.

"Yeah. You're spearheading the whole thing and without you, it'd probably be a mess." Taehyun chuckles a bit. "We don't really communicate with the pediatric hospital much, so it's nice to have a bridge." You nod.

"I agree."

"Definitely boss lady if you ask me." Yunho looks at you, causing you to shy away for a moment. 

"Maybe you and I can set up weekly meetings to update each other?" You look at Yunho, then Taehyun and Jihoon. "Or Taehyun, Jihoon—"

"Yunho is probably the best. He's everywhere. He knows everything." Taehyun chimes in quick. At first, Jihoon and Yunho are confused even though, it's definitely the right answer and they'll always defer to their manager in these situations— not because they don't think they can handle it or relay the proper information, but because it just makes them feel more comfortable doing so. Jihoon cocks a brow up before Taehyun meets his gaze and gives him a look that tells him he should play along and go with it.

"O-Oh, right. I agree." Jihoon stumbles on his words a bit before returning his full attention to you. "Yunho can answer all your questions without issue."

"Yeeeeah." Yunho says, slightly furrowing his brows at them before looking down at you. "Let's just keep it between us? If I really can't make it, I'll just email you with some notes or something."

"Okay." You chuckle, making a note to coordinate calendars with Yunho later and set a reoccurring invite. "I'll message you later about some good days and times. See if we have any matches."

"Cool."

"Well, thanks guys!" You smile at them brightly. "I really appreciate your time and for thoroughly walking me through everything."

"Of course." They all say in their own way as you shut your laptop and stand.

"We're gonna debrief in here for the remaining minutes before the next meeting comes in." You nod.

"See you next week? Feel free to email or slack me if anything comes up."

"You too." You wave at them before walking out of the room and shutting the door, finally feeling like you can breathe comfortably again. You speed off to your desk once you’re out of view, hoping to see Noeul and Sian at some point to talk about the meeting.

Meanwhile, Yunho watches as you leave— his eyes trailing your figure until you're no longer in view down the hallway, and Jihoon is snorting while typing away.

“Debrief time!” Taehyun says.

"Soooo." He finally breaks the silence post-laugh in a sing-song tone. "How'd your thing with Ara go?"

"Uh." Yunho laughs a bit and they both look at him confused. "No, it was fine. It's just.. I don't know? I don't think I feel anything for her to be quite honest."

"Well, first of all. What do you mean you don't know? What did you guys end up doing? How did we get to this point?" Taehyun asks, making Yunho do another head tilt.

"Tough crowd. Too many technical questions." They laugh. "We just had ramen at the new restaurant and then we hung out at her place." They both pause and look over their screens to meet his eyes.

"What happened to 'we're just gonna do a harmless dinner and call it a night?'"

"For the most part, it was."

"What about the other part that wasn't?"

"We ended up making out and then.. I stopped it." Yunho says calmly, which is confusing Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Oh shit." Jihoon looks at Yunho with an amused expression. "What?! You didn't feel anything for her?"

"I— no, not really."

"Damn." Jihoon ticks his head to the side.

"What'd she say when you stopped it?"

"She understood where I was coming from, I think? I tried to lay it down gently and I told her I didn't wanna do that to her. I thought we were good as friends, and she deserves someone that is sure of their feelings."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Well. I hope so? I hope it didn't ruin our friendship."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She might need some space for a bit, but I'm sure it'll be okay. I know she appreciated it."

"Yeah." Yunho looks at them. "Anyway, back to the main discussion.” He laughs a bit. “I think we have our work cut out for us. We should continue to stay on top of those tickets and try not to let them pile up, but we should also prioritize securing the network for this unit. Making sure there's no roadblocks. I'll keep up with the clinical informatics team to keep mapping out the ordering system." The two ahead of him nod simultaneously. "Feel free to delegate things on your plate to other team members if you don't have the capacity to take them on right now."

"Got it, boss." Jihoon adds.

"You know, if I may say so." Jihoon and Yunho look at him, confused. "Y/N's pretty." Taehyun smirks.

“Oh, here he goes.”

"She's also really nice." Jihoon laughs, knowing exactly where this is going. "Seems like you two get along easily."

"I didn't know our team doubled up as a matchmaking service."

"Only for you." Jihoon snorts at Taehyun's remark.

"So, that's what the whole thing was about."

"What whole thing?" Taehyun acts dumb.

"Having her set up those meetings with me only. Even though the both of you have covered in the past.”

"I mean, it's only right." Taehyun smiles. "Besides, you can learn a lot about each other, too."

"Uh huh." Yunho looks at them before shutting his laptop. "We'll see how it goes."

"You agree though, right?"

"About what?"

"About Y/N?" Taehyun and Jihoon follow Yunho's lead as he stands and stretches, grabbing his laptop to prepare heading out back to their office.

"And if I say yes?"

"Then remember to thank me in the end when it all works out." Yunho laughs.

"Can't get anything past you two either, I see."

"Did Seora know about the date?"

"No, but I also think she has inkling because Hwa's dumbass let it slip." They laugh. "I called it a team dinner and he somehow let 'date' slip at some point during his stay with her."

"Ah, but I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

"I don't know. She's hard to read. We talked a bit about it this weekend but even as her dad, I can't really gauge what she means or how she feels."

⇢FLASHBACK

"Daddy." Yunho looks at Seora as they make their way home from dropping off her friends. Her voice is low, and it's obvious she's tired from her weekend but content. 

"Mhm?"

"Thank you for letting my friends spend the weekend with me."

"Course, baby girl." He chuckles. "I'm glad you had fun."

"I did." Her voice is a bit raspy from all the yelling and singing they did all weekend. "It was so much fun. And I got so many cute things this weekend."

"You're welcome." Yunho teases.

"Thank you." She laughs. "You're the best."

"Mm." He hums. "I try to be."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." There's a pause, and Seora is fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Nevermind." She says close to a whisper.

"Ace." He turns to her at a green light.

"I just don't know how to ask. But, it isn't anything super important anyway. Let’s forget it—”

"No. You opened the door. Remember what I said about keeping an open communication between us?"

"Mhm." She hums. "Well..” She nervously fiddles with her fingers now. “I just wanna know if Uncle Hwa was right? Did you go on a date?"

"Hm, well. I went out to dinner with a friend. That's all."

"Do you like your friend?"

"No. We're really just friends." Pause. "Besides. I know you wouldn't be happy, right?" He chuckles a bit to make it a little light-hearted joke, but there's a genuine curiosity behind his question. He hasn't talked to his daughter about this, and he's a little surprised she even brought it up. But, maybe she too, had been curious.

"I mean." She sighs. "Uncle Hwa told me to keep an open mind about it."

"He did now? But, how do you really feel, Seora?"

"Of course I’d want you to be happy. It'll just be different, though. It's always been us two and we haven't really had anyone like that around besides mom. I can’t really see it right now.”

"I know." Yunho responds quietly. 

"I want you to be happy, though. Just saying it’ll be weird if that ever happens. Might take time, I guess.” She looks at him sadly. “You won’t replace me or mom, right?”

“Never.” Yunho’s heart sinks. "When and if that time comes, I'll always prioritize you no matter what." She smiles. "Okay? None of that.”

"Okay." She giggles a bit when her dad reaches over to gently massage the top of her head. 

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you miss mom?" He asks.

"Yeah. I do. I think about her sometimes, but it's hard when I don't have many memories with her."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wish you had more time with her."

"I do, too. At least I got some time with her." Yunho nibbles on his bottom lip when he feels her response hit him in the gut. Right now, he knows he's not ready to talk more about Eunha. He knows he can't handle it. He already feels himself internally panicking, the anxiety rising. So, he pivots.

He pivots because he just can't.

"Yeah, well. We have each other now and that's all that matters. You're stuck with your dad. Sorry ‘bout it.”

"Stop it." She laughs.

"Promise me you'll keep talking to me if you ever feel sad or alone, hm? Don't ever think you can't talk to me about these things, ace."

"I know. You never make me feel that way."

"Good."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." She smiles and leans her head back against the head rest. "I have one more favor to ask before the weekend ends."

"And what's that?"

"Can we have our own little slumber party in the living room tonight?"

"As long as you promise to shut off the TV at a reasonable time since you have school tomorrow."

"Promise." She puts up her pinky. "Pinky promise." Yunho multitasks and wraps his finger around hers.

"Let's do it."

⇢END

"It'll all work out how it should, don't worry, boss. It ain't gonna be like this forever." Jihoon adds as they finally make their way back to their office area.

"Thanks. And thanks for joining the meeting today."

"All good!" Yunho gives them one last smile before slipping into his office and settling down. He has a few more meetings and other tasks to tend to in a bit, but his first priority shifts when he sees a slack notification from you. He instantly pulls up the app on his desktop after connecting his laptop to the monitor, a small smile forming on his face when he sees your message.

you: should we just do mondays at 10am to keep things simple? i mean.. totally get if you don't wanna see me bright and early on a monday, we can check other days. 😊

yunho: no, mondays at 10am are perfect.

yunho: & don't say that. 🫤 it'll be nice to see you on monday mornings. 

yunho: usually it's chaos or everyone's dead from the weekend. no in between.

yunho: you'll be the nice balance!

you: uh huh. just remember you said this, not me. 🫡 i’ll send an invite!

yunho: all good, i'll take full responsibility for it. haha. thank you!

"I'm gonna call it right now. You and Yunho are gonna get close and it'll be the start of something new." You shrug while Noeul reads the messages over your shoulder.

"I mean, whatever happens, happens. I won't be opposed to it. He's cute and super nice." You poke your bottom lip out.

"And your parents literally love him and his daughter to death already. It's a match-made in heaven."

"Well, no. I wouldn't say that." You look at Noeul. "Besides, I don't even know if he's single. Before the weekend rolled around, I saw him getting all smiley and smitten with one of the nurses at the hospital. I think they went out together."

"Ah, you never know! Just keep your options open, but definitely don't shut him out if he's dropping little hints. Get to know him more, see what he dishes out. If he's taken, then you've earned another friend and it could blossom into a great friendship. No loss there!" Noeul crosses her arms and smirks. "If not, then please make sure you enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes, I really hate when you and Sian are right. Makes me feel—"

Ding.

Your phone goes off at the corner of your desk with a new notification. You lean over to grab your phone and check, your eyes widening in the process:

yunou._.u started following you.

"Oh bitch, he is definitely single." You and Noeul quickly skim his page before you shake your head and plop your phone down.

"Stop it! You never know."

"That man barely has posts!" Noeul picks up your phone again and plugs in the code. "Look! Pics of his surroundings. His daughter. Him and his friends. That's it!"

"You're impossible."

"You are! You just won't accept the fact that an extremely hot dilf could be coming your way and I don't know why!"

"Don't say that!" You quickly look around. "Can you keep it down?!"

"I oughta smack you upside the head for that!"

"Go away, don't you have another meeting in like, 10 minutes?" Noeul looks at her phone and it's her turn to be surprised.

"Oh shit, more like 5 now. I gotta go and hop on this call." Noeul begins to rush away, but she turns back towards you again. "You better follow him back, Y/N!"

"I am! Go!" You wave her off and she turns halfway to finally head back down to her office— barely making it in 5. You look at your phone once more before giving it a few minutes, letting the notification settle before deciding enough time has passed since Yunho followed you.

You didn't wanna be too quick, right?

But, when the notification comes back on Yunho's phone saying that you've followed him back, he can't help but smile. The notification puts him in a good mood, enough for him to figure out his next plan on how to get to know you better.

He'll settle for a simple like on your latest photo. Maybe, the next one, too.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71

[cocosparkel]

Curiosity killed the cat (but satisfaction brought it back)

Chapter 1

Summary-

When Marinette finds out that she is adopted, she tracks down her Biological aunt. Who happens to live Gotham, the place she swore she wouldn't go. Well, Gotham just gained a new vigilante -Chaos.

next>>

CHAPTER 1: REVELATIONS

The day Marinette found out she was adopted, her life changed completely.

It started like a normal day.

She entered the kitchen. “Maman ?” She asked. Her mother was crying over a photo. When she noticed Marinette, she quickly wiped her tears and hid the photo under a book.

“Marinette…” she said with a shaky smile.

“Maman, are you okay ?”Marinette asked, stepping into the room “What was in that photo ?”

“Nothing, Marinette, I'm fine.” Sabine abruptly stood up and left the room.

“Okay maman…” Marinette whispered as Sabine was leaving the room, loud enough for her to hear it.

Just as Marinette was about to leave too, confused about the entire thing, something caught her eye. It was another photo, which had fallen on the floor. Hesitating, she eventually picked it up. The photo was that of a baby. She had big blue eyes, and black hair, with a beautiful smile. Flipping the photo, Marinette saw a familiar handwriting at the bottom corner.

Bridgette Liu Dupain-cheng, our precious baby.

Confused, Marinette kept the photo with her, deciding to ask her parents later.

______________________________________________________________

At dinner, Marinette finally asked the one question in her mind. “Maman, papa, who is this ?” She showed them the photo she had found early.

Sabine dropped her knife and Tom looked stunned.

Snapping out of her reverie, Sabine said “Oh Marinette, we hoped this day would never come….”

Marinette swallowed, losing her appetite immediately.

“We were going to tell you when you were 13, but then Hawkmoth appeared, and we didn't want to overwhelm you, and we just– we love you Marinette, and it doesn't matter if… if you're…if you're…” Sabine looked at Tom, unable to complete her sentence.

But Marinette bet them to it. “ I'm adopted, amn't I ?”

Sabine started sobbing, and Tom put a comforting hand around her.

He sighed,” Marinette, we are your godparents. Our own daughter, Bridgette passed just a year before we adopted you. Your mother was a very close friend of ours, and she left us with you.”

Sabine gave her a watery smile,“We love you, Marinette that will never change.”

Marinette stood “ Thanks for finally telling me the truth Maman, Papa.”

She fled to her room.

______________________________________________________________

Her parents had given her her original birth certificate that night.

Her name had been Marie Kyle - Draper. Her mother's name was Diane Kyle, and her father's name was Richard Draper.

She looked them up in every possible website, but the only thing she found was an article.

Last saturday night, a young couple who were later identified as Richard and Diane draper were found dead in an alley near Robinson park. Richard had been shot straight on the head,whereas Diane had taken a bullet through her stomach. While it looks like a mugging attempt which led to their demise, the GPD suspect something more sinister. The GPD have promised to get to the bottom of this.

Finding out just what happened to her parents made her uneasy, especially when she realised that the place they died was Gotham, the very place where her grandmother Felicie had been murdered.

______________________________________________________________

Walking into class, Marinette was still in a daze about what had happened the day before. She was so lost in thought, that she didn't notice the glares her classmates were giving her.

"How could you, girl ? We all trusted you so much !” Alya shouted, as Marinette went to sit beside her.

"Alya what do you mean ? I don't get it ?” Marinette asked, confused.

“Look I get that you don't like Lila but that doesn't mean you can insult her when all she's done is be nice to you.” Kim said, as everyone agreed with him.

"What? I still don't understand-’’ M asked looking around. Her eyes fell on Lila who seemed to be crying.

"So you're saying you didn't tell lila that she will never be Adrien’s friend ? Or that Ladybug doesn't really like her ?” Alya snapped.

“I never said that!” Marinette exclaimed, realising what was happening.

“And who would have sent her these messages from your phone ?” Sneered Kim.

“ Those were taken out of context.” Marinette said, shaking her head.

"Sure…” Alya looked at her, and lowered her voice and said, “Look all you have to do is apologise to her… and understand that Adrien may not want to be with you and-”

“Alya what makes you think I still like Adrien” Marinette asked, getting annoyed.

"Come on girl, I'm your best friend.” Alya said rolling her eyes.

“You haven't been my best friend in months! You haven't properly talked to me, insulted me when I forgave Chloe and even ditched me for Lila many times.” Marinette shouted, done with her friends, no ex friends stupidity.

“Marinette, you know it's not like that…” Alya said, in a condescending tone.

"No Alya, I'm done. With all of you.” With that, Marinette stormed to the back of the class, and sat next to a stunned looking Chloe. She had made up her mind about what she was going to do.

______________________________________________________________

Ever since she found out that she was adopted, things had been tense with her parents. She walked into the bakery, determined to put this behind her.

“Marinette ! Could you.. could you help me with making the decorations for this cake ?” Sabine asked hesitantly.

"Sure thing Maman” Marinette said, a small smile on her face.

So what if she was adopted? Her parents still wanted her, still cared for her. She wasn't going to let anything ruin her family life, like the way she let Lila ruin her friendships.

______________________________________________________________

( what do you think ??? Is it nice ???? Is it boring ??? Is it cool ???? Is it horrible????

If u liked this, do check out my other work, they're just not dreams)

next>>

[nolita-fairytale]

something will happen | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: you and luca embark on another a big new adventure together: one of second dreams and second chances. the long-awaited sequel to 'burn your life down.' titled inspired by something will happen - berlioz.

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: it's really happening! i can't promise i'll be updating frequently, but season 3 got me inspired and i've really missed this world. this feels more like an intro than a chapter but here we are anyway. all italicized scenes are a part of the same conversation. i just wanted to play with something new so i hope it makes sense. lmk if you'd like to be tagged.

masterlist | chapter two

Late Spring

“Well? What do you think?” Luca asks you, the anticipation in the silence between the two of you palpable. 

“I don’t know!” you practically exclaim, all giddy at the mere idea of it. You chew on your lower lip as you wait for him to say something next. 

“I’m just saying. It’s not a half-bad idea and ehm… well, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually,” he reasons with a shrug. He sends a loving glance your way because you look so damn cute wrapped in your twin-sized duvet that makes up one half of the bed you share. 

“For how long?” you ask, cautiously. 

“Dunno,” Luca shrugs. “Ever since Marcus mentioned it, I suppose.” 

He’s almost too casual about this—as if he hasn’t been stuck on the idea for the last month or so since his friend had returned to the States.

This is most certainly not a lazy Saturday morning with breakfast in bed kind of conversation. 

This is a paperwork and really nice pens kind of conversation

A big step.

Huge, even. 

You’ve already agreed to live with the man. 

And now this?

“Luca…” you struggle to get out on an exhale. “I just. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just-.” You pause, collecting your thoughts as you shake off all your nerves before choosing to pivot.

“What if we just-.” you begin again, taking a breath as you brace yourself to jump over this specific cliff. “Total fantasy. No limitations, no logistics, then sure. Okay. We could talk about it.” 

“Alright,” Luca accepts with a nod, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. He sits up straight, pushing himself off of where he leans against the headboard, shifting so that he’s closer to you. The smile that spreads across his lips begins to grow as repeats your words back to you. “Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

—---------------------------------------

Summer

The dream was only supposed to be this—one where you’d begin living with your very sexy and very sweet pastry chef of a boyfriend—and yet, months later, as you move your things into Luca’s Vesterbro flat, your thoughts are consumed by ‘what ifs.’ 

What if you did it? 

What if you opened the restaurant of your shared dreams? 

What if your dreams came true with the love of your life by your side? 

Opening Kokuore had been different. It was your first step towards your next chapter, one where you had moved to Copenhagen in search of a new beginning. But this would be… a proclamation: that you were here to stay, that you and Luca could be something permanent, that you could be more than just romantic partners. 

Proof of a life well-lived and a life well-loved. 

Kokuore had been your dream, your first, your baby. Sure, there’d been talk of expansion—maybe a bigger space, or something along the lines of that—but you hadn’t thought too deeply about a second. 

You hadn’t thought about what would come next. 

And then he did. 

Luca. 

“Need any help, love?” Luca offers, watching you scoop two stacked boxes up into your arms, ready to be hauled into the bedroom. 

“Nope!” you heave with a sigh. “Not with these. But if you could grab the other three I’ll meet you in the closet, babe.”

He smirks, calling after you with a: 

“And what do you suppose we should do there?” 

You chuckle in response, your voice sounding further away as you shout back, “Let’s just unpack a few of my clothes, love, before we start taking them off.” 

—---------------------------------------

“Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

You sigh, like you too haven’t been thinking about it since Marcus brought it up in the first place. 

“Okay, I’m not ready yet,” you preface, cautiously. “But. If we were, hypothetically speaking, talking about opening a restaurant together… I kinda love the idea of a brunch spot.” “Like Marcus said.” “Exactly.” 

“Slash bakery.” “Right.” 

“Hypothetically speaking.” “Of course.” 

For a moment, your mind gets away from you, running wild with the fantasy that’s beginning to unfold before your eyes.

“I think I really like the idea of it being a bakery during the weekdays when we’re open,” you admit, an excitement beginning to bubble underneath the surface of all your reasons why you shouldn’t. “Maybe we do Wednesday, Thursday all grab-and-go sort of breakfast stuff in addition to the bakery.”

“Kind of like a NY-style bodega,” Luca adds, building on your idea. “You know. With a little extra finesse.”

“Yes! Then… Friday, maybe, we pivot to full breakfast/brunch till the end of Saturday,” you reply, building off what Luca’s just said. 

“Think Wednesday – Saturday service would work?” he asks curiously, knowing that most places are closed on Sundays in Copenhagen.

“We could try it out. Extend our hours to Sunday down the line IF it feels right,” you reason with enough ease to worry you a little. You begin to back pedal, your mind flooded with doubt. “But-, I don’t know, honey. Don’t you think Copenhagen has enough bakeries?” 

“Not ours! Copenhagen doesn’t have ours yet,” Luca protests, as soon he begins to recognize what’s going on in your head. His excitement and passion alone might convince you to do this as he sits up on his knees, his body language expressing just how fully IN he is on this idea. 

His face changes—he’s only just a little more serious this time—his tone light and voice gentle as he warns you with a: 

“And I’m not letting you talk to yourself out of this.” He crosses his arms over his chest almost as if it’s a challenge. “So tell me more about this bakery-slash-brunch spot you’ve got in mind.” 

“Luca Davies! I don’t know where you get off thinking you can sweet talk me into this,” you scold him teasingly. 

He’s even faster to reply. 

“Oh I think I can.”

And this time, you know it’s a challenge. 

“Fine,” you concede to him, meeting him right in the middle of his challenge. “But I don’t want this to be all about my ideas. Besides, aren’t you the one who’s been thinking about it for months now?” 

—---------------------------------------

Fall

Over fresh ink that’s barely had a chance to dry, you and Mathilde clink glasses in celebration of the very big step you’ve just taken together. The contract had barely been drawn up before she charged into now-your Vesterbro home, opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, ready to sign on the dotted line.

A promotion, chef du cuisine, and a bigger percentage in ownership of Kokuore—a piece of your heart—now shared between the woman who helped you create your masterpiece. 

“I can’t believe we’re really fucking doing this!” Mathilde practically squeals, bursting at the seams with excitement as she rests her arms against your kitchen island. The two of you sit side by side on twin bar stools, facing each other to the best of the chair’s swivel-ability. 

“I know. It’s unreal and yet it feels like the right thing, yeah?” you agree, half in shock. Shifting gears, your back to business as you continue with an explanation of the ownership plan that you’ve thought long and hard about. “It’s important to me to stay involved, but most of my focus will go towards the new space for at least the next year. We’ll have weekly check-ins and Mathilde, I want you to at least consider some kind of ownership eventually in the hospitality group should we go in that direction.”

“I forgot you went to business school. It’s very sexy,” she teases, but the prospect of a hospitality group feels even more exciting.  

There’s a feeling of familiarity between you and your friend as you begin to break down some of the nitty gritty details of the contract. With Luca out for a jog, it reminds you of the days when it was just you, her, and Jesper, exploring your shared wildest dreams. The nostalgia wells in your chest as you take another sip from your champagne flute. 

You were really doing this and you’re so lucky you get to do it with your favorite people. 

Well, with your favorite people again. 

Who would’ve thought that moving to Copenhagen would bring you this grand of an adventure?

—---------------------------------------

“Fine,” Luca agrees, knowing that the way he looks at you only stokes the flames you feel for him. He’s got plenty of ideas, spent maybe too much time thinking about breakfast menus and laminated pastry doughs folded with all kinds of experimental ingredients. He hasn’t felt this creative in… well… since he met you. 

“I love the idea of breakfast/brunch. And I’m already feeling really inspired by the prospect of getting to create a menu with you, darling,” Luca begins, ready to build off of your previous idea. “I guess my first question is… who will lead it?” 

He’s not expecting the elated, “You, silly!” that escapes your lips without hesitation. 

It’s not that he has doubts about himself, but you are the one with the business degree. You’re also the one that’s opened a restaurant before, so he'd be more than happy to let you take reins. 

“Not that I’m going to totally love being on opposite schedules but…” you continue, this hypothetical conversation feeling less and less hypothetical. “...maybe I turn Kokuore over to Mathilde… spend a little more time developing this next concept with you. But. Without question, my love, I think you should lead it.” 

It’s his turn to be surprised, your unwavering belief in him felt so deeply it practically takes his breath away. The only response he can get out is: 

“I love you.” 

“I love you,” you giggle in response. 

“I guess my question for you,” you shift cautiously, as it begins to dawn on you that this is something you just might want as much as he does. “...is… is this something you want to do? I mean, I know it’s going to be a really big pivot from fine dining and-.” 

“God yes!” Luca exclaims, relieved at the thought. “I’ve been dying to get away from the fine dining stuff. I-. It’ll be an adjustment, sure. But yes. Yes, it’s what I want.” 

You nod as you process, listening to the conviction in your lover’s voice. 

He wants this. He really wants this.

And he’s so sure. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize you don’t have to have to suppress the feeling any longer.

“Fuck it!” you declare, as if you’re inhaling for the first time. “Fuck ‘hypothetical.’ We should totally do this, babe.” 

“Yeah?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

A beat. 

“So…” Luca trails off, the wave of excitement beginning to wash over him. 

“What do we call it?” 

The baritone in his voice catches your attention, and as you look at him, you can practically see it all. In Luca you’ve found your second chapter, your second great love, and now your second restaurant. The word falls out of your mouth as if it were destiny: 

“Seconds. I think… we should call it Seconds.” 

“I love it,” he grins back at you.

And now, you’re just as certain about a second restaurant, because you get to do it with him. Luca chuckles, catching your gaze once more, almost as if he’s about to say ‘I told you so,’ as he utters a cheeky: 

“Well, love. Looks like we gotta call Marcus and let him know he’s about to own 10% of a restaurant.”

[riofann]

10. tempestuous

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Monday July 4, 2022

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Yea what's up?” you turn to face your sisters 

Gia asks “You okay?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” You ask frustrated 

“Well because I just had to call you like 10 times to get you to respond” 

“I’m sorry Gia just thinking about work” 

“GOD! are they still texting you” 

“Yeaaaa” you say in a ‘duh’ tone

“Then your managers suck that's why you have managers to manage not text you all the time give me that!” she says snatching the phone from you

You reach for the phone “Hey! I need that!” 

“No! Alicia back me up!” she commands before  throwing the phone to her

“ALICIA!” you plead

Alicia moves away from you “I’m sorry sissy but sis is right”

You throw your hands up “Oh my god! You guys are killing me” 

“Look at you!” Gia points at you “you’re killing yourself.” 

You shake your head and sit down on the couch

“When's the last time you treated yourself or went on a date?” 

“Not this again” you say, this has been a recurring topic of conversation 

“No seriously when's the last time you were told you were beautiful” 

You roll your eyes “A lot of my customers tell me that daily” 

“Not your customers, your boyfriend! your man!” Alicia asks 

Gia approaches you “Listen when is the last time you got some really good dick?” 

You feel your palms sweating, “Gia really is that important?” 

“YES IT IS! we have needs too just like guys” Alicia interjects 

“Alicia! I can’t hear this!” you say covering your ears 

“No you’re gonna listen”  Gia says laying on you. “We are worried about you, and you're overworking. It was bad with one bar but now two?!”

Alicia jumps on top making you both groan “and you’ve canceled on us like 50 times!” 

“That's an exaggeration”

“Okay not 50 but every time its like I can’t ‘I'm working I cant gotta run to the bar’ ”

“I'm a busy woman!” 

“We know we also know you won’t make time for things unless someone forces you to ! You’re working too hard!”

You sigh “I promise to do better”

“We want a boyfriend for Christmas if you dont we are gonna snitch on you”  

“Nooo dont tell mom and dad” 

“Well I guess you better get to doing other shit besides working”

You groan and finally get the strength to push them off you 

“Its because we love you” Alicia hugs you 

“Yea I know” you say begrudgingly but hugging her back 

As you drive home that evening you think of the dream  you had recently. You and Rio were in his office arguing over something stupid you can’t even remember the details. Next thing you knew he was kissing you, shoving you back against the wall, and you were kissing him back! It was sloppy, not quite coordinated like it would be in real life, he was groping the same areas, some scenes kept replaying over and over, others were so vivid you could smell his cologne, taste the spearmint gum he chewed occasionally, the fabric of his shirt against your fingers. It ended when he reached up your skirt to yank down your panties, and just as you felt his calloused fingers graze up your thighs your alarm went off. Saved by the alarm! You would have liked for it to continue, because that would be the only way you were getting any. When you go to take a shower you feel the wetness between your thighs. Anyway the conclusion that you came to was you thought there was too much proximity to him and you were horny so your mind conjured him up nothing more, nothing else. 

Saturday August 13, 2022

“It's hot!” you complain as you approached Rio, once again at the country club 

“Its summer” he states the obvious 

“Yup anyway here you go” you stated dropping the bag on the floor. You changed tactics you were either dropping it on the floor/table or in his hand now by holding it with both hands on the straps instead

He shoves the bag to the side next to his duffle “It’s getting cooler though it was burning at 3” he adds 

“You’ve been here since 3? (it was 6:30 in the evening)” 

He nods “had a couple of meetings”

You nod feeling the awkward tension “want anything else or can I go?” 

He smiles, looks at the tennis court then back at you “Not gonna take me up on my offer?” 

“Offer? What offer?” You think to yourself “Oh tennis? I can't” pointing to your attire dress and heels 

He nods “I know you don’t have to work at either place so what's holding you back?” 

“Actually, stalker, I have to be at Oasis tonight so I need to get going” 

He chuckles at your stalker comment before arguing “James said he had it covered” 

“Well James is your hire and he doesn’t ‘have it covered’ because” you show the text message James sent you begging you to go in because the Andersons were gonna stop by with some friends  and only you knew how to make them happy. “I have to go in” 

He sighs with slight irritation “he should be able to manage” feeling like you were just making up an excuse 

You smile at him “He is your hire” you reiterate bringing back the memory of you telling Rio he may not be the best manager but Rio insisting 

“Let him take care of it” he argues 

“Can’t Andersons are big customers spend close to 2 grand or more every time they stop by I gotta go” you turn to walk away

“How is he gonna learn?” he continues 

You shrug and open your hands “You should have asked yourself this before you asserted his position at Oasis!”

He scoffs looking around 

“Oh look at you two! How cute! Again!” 

You both turn to face the older woman and both give her an awkward smile there's a brief moment of silence before Rio asks “Hey I’m sorry do we know you?” 

“Well I saw you two at the launch of Oasis” 

Your mind immediately remembers her “Oh how nice to see you again! Have you been back? I’m sorry if I haven’t recognized you” 

“Oh I have but you're always at the other bar Cure?” You nod “I haven't been but my husband and I plan to stop by with friends”

You give a small pout “I’m sorry I keep missing you”

She waves you away jokingly “Oh it's alright the place is still great, drinks are just the way I like them strong” You giggle “and you know staff is perfect life is still merry!” 

“That's good!” you smile 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt I just thought I would come say ‘Hi’ my name is Edith by the way” she extends her hand 

“Edith nice to meet you I’m Y/N and that's..” 

She answers “Christopher he’s in the Tennis tournament this year saw your profile” she winks 

Rio smiles

You look at your watch. “I have to go, or the manager is gonna be calling me nonstop. It was nice meeting you again Edith and next time you're there have them reach out to me I’ll stop by” 

“Okay see you later young lady” 

You don’t even think to say bye to Rio just wanting to get out of there as soon as possible 

“Boy you must have made her mad!” Edith jokes 

He laughs “something like that”

“That's alright, nothing a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, and a big kiss can’t fix! Always does the job!” She advices

He nods and looks at the older woman Edith looks at the tennis court then back to Rio “You up for another round?”  she asks

He shrugs “sure why not?”

“Good because I'm gonna smoke ya!” 

He takes a sip of his water “I owe you a round of drinks at Oasis if you do”

“Oooh more motivation!!” 

Thursday September 8, 2022

As things slowed down and the staff began closing down at Oasis you went into the office to grab your purse and go home for the night, a vow you recently made to not work past midnight. You hear footsteps walking in after you. You look back to see James standing there 

“Oh James!”, you smile at him even though he annoyed the shit out of you tonight i was just grabbing my bag

“Hey Y/N I wanted to talk to you?” 

“Yea what's up? Today was a hit right? Made a lot.”

“Yea I didn’t want to talk about that” he walks closer “I wanted to talk about you and me”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow” 

“Sorry came on too strong but I have to say it”

“Please don't” 

“You’re really beautiful and you’re an amazing woman”

“James Seriously”

“I know you’re not dating anyone why won’t you give me a chance” he says reaching to touch your cheek 

You jerked back “OH!”  You are shocked that he touched you “Don’t do that!” 

“I like you”

You roll your eyes “I know you do and I told you I’m just not interested right now it's not you its me”

“Why won't you let yourself be loved?” he asks reaching for your 

“James” you warn

He retracts “Seriously I can take care of you, make you feel good, make you feel loved

“I’m just not interested end of discussion”

“I can take care of you, you don’t have to work anymore”

“Well no that's...” 

He cuts you off “Come on” he says stepping closer to you and blocking you in as you push up against the desk “I think you’ve had a lot to drink, we’ll discuss that later but right now I need you to back the fuck up”

“Don’t be scared just let it happen” he whispers 

“James, if you don’t back up, I will shoot you.”  You declare in a flat tone 

He sucks his teeth “you wouldn’t do such a thing to me baby” he says inching closer  as you lean back placing your finger on the trigger 

“You better listen to her” You both hear from the doorway James head snaps to see Rio leaning against the door way “She will shoot you” 

James harshly mugs Rio, “cock blocker” he mumbles 

You’ve never been so grateful to see Rio “I’m going home good night!” you say moving away and walking past James 

“Text me when you get home” James says trying to stake his claim to you

“Good night James!” You say forcefully you’ve never texted him he was either really drunk today or really bold or both

“What the fuck was that about?” James asks stomping up to Rio. “I called first dibs, you knew this, You know I like her!” Rio squares up as James reaches him “you fucking up my spot now?” 

“Take your drunk ass home James before you do something that gets your ass in some shit you'll regret” Rio speaks unwavering 

“Oh you big man now?! You gonna make me regret it?!” Rio doesn't say anything he holds eye contact with him refusing to back down “Fuck you man no ones fucking scared of you!”  They both have a stare down contest before Rio snickers to himself and walks away. He had other things to do he didn't drop by for James 

“Y/N!”  you hear Rio’s voice calling to you as you speed walk to your car

“WHAT?!”  You snapped, spinning around as he was walking towards you. 2 strides and this man caught up to you. Lanky bastard “I am not working with him!” You announce “Did you see that bullshit I had my hand on my gun! I was getting ready to shoot him!”

He waves away your concerns “Don't worry about it Ima take care of it”

“By doing what “talking” to him?” 

He looks you in the eye “What’d I just say?” he responds 

You look up and rub the back of your neck. The migraine was returning  “Why are you here? What do you want?” your feet were hurting your and adrenaline was high 

“Need to talk to you” 

“About?”

“Need a favor”

You roll your eyes again “Favor before apology wow” you mutter 

“What was that?” He asks not fully catching what you said but knowing you made a smart comment 

You smile at him “What is it boss? How can I be at your disposal?” you ask sarcastically 

He drags his tongue on his lips taming the irritation from your sarcastic tone and comment “Got a gala night coming up at the country club need a date”

You scoff and roll your eyes  “Do you really need one? Just take one of the many women around you”

He smirks “Jealous?” he teases

“No! But why the hell do you want me? Don’t you have cousins, aunties or I don’t know?! Lady friends you can take?” He nods “I do but you fit the bill plus how do you want me to tell Edith we broke up?” Your eyes bulge “Did you tell her we were dating?” He smiles seeing your reaction “No but you didn’t tell her either that day or when she saw what happened on launch night” “That was your fault I was trying to move out of the way. I remember correctly you wouldn’t let me!” “So that what?  Your ex could corner you and you stand there looking like you don’t know how to tell him to fuck off I did you a favor”

You throw your hands up frustrated “I don’t get you” 

“Feelings are mutual”

“Why do you want to take me? You don’t even trust me!” you state

“Who told you that?”

You point at him “You!” you look at him unbelieving of his naivety “Every chance someone gets to lie to you telling you I screwed you over you believe them” He scoffs looking away, waving you off “why the hell would you trust me around those country club people? People I am assuming you want to impress” 

He sighs “It was a yes or no question” he asks now annoyed 

“I told you no”

“No you asked about irrelevant shit”

“Okay well the answer is no! There!” 

“Reconsider, I’ll be in touch” he says before walking away

Saturday October 1, 2022

The butterflies in your stomach might as well be wrecking balls your nerves are bad. Why? QTNA. You spent the last 3 weeks finding gala appropriate attire. Some were too much, others too little in any case you had back ups in case your highness didn’t like what you had on. 

You hear the doorbell ring and you hang your head low shaking it as you walk towards the door you had told him to text you so all you had to do was get out of the house. 

You open the door to see him standing there with a tuxedo “Nice tux” an all black tuxedo you couldn’t have predicted anything else 

He nods “clean up nicely yourself”

“Thanks, ready to go?”

He slowly takes you in before responding “mhmm” he hums 

“Okay lead the way” 

The ride to the country club was silent with old school RnB playing in the background. You were temporarily okay until you got to the club and were forced back to reality. You ran over the details you had memorized. 

You and Rio have been together for a little over a year, he owns several businesses around town. He is working on a non-profit to help families pay off medical bills. You’re just there to be his arm candy nothing else as he put it. Even though you argued over him literally getting said arm candy from the slew of women he had at his disposal 

“Ah Mr. Serraño your table number is table 5” 

“Thanks” he says, taking your hand and pulling you along into the room. When the space got too small making it hard for both of you to walk by he would go first, occasionally during that time your hand would bump against his glock that was secured around his waist. 

He stops to mingle a bit catching up with old friends/partners? You don’t know you're just here to be here. 

Eventually you made it to your table. You hated feeling like the newcomer but at least you weren't the only one. 

The night events commence shortly after  with a speech (how the club did this year, plans for next year expansion blah blah blah), announcement of silent auctions, awards, dinner and drinks. 

“Congratulations on the awards Mr. Serraño” He does something that resembles blushing but you write it off as a smile. Rio had gotten 3rd place in the single tournament and 2nd in the double tennis tournament. 

You turn back your attention to the host of the night. The drinks were good, food was good, a good change of scenery from your usual. At some point after dinner during the drinking hour and silent auction Rio excused himself. You don’t question why you just assume it was his usual running to the loo or getting another round of drinks. 

You notice he had been gone awhile when you glance down at your phone and realize almost 30 minutes had passed by. 

He returns shortly after in a huff, irritated. 

“You good?” you ask, glancing at him before you return to listen to the host not wanting to bring attention to his changed mood to your table mates. All he does is grunt frustratedly in response. 

When the host stops talking and the attention is brought back to the table for desserts/drinks/conversation. You notice Rio’s right hand and left, bruised and bloody. With the right being worse, it was bleeding and just as he finishes putting his glass down you grab it in a sly manner bringing it to your lap. 

Rio goes to pull it away but you hold it there pretending to be engaged in conversation while removing the tissue that was in your purse. You hold it firm and in a quick moment you look down at the tissue which was showing stains of red and up at Rio who locked eyes with you. 

That got him to relax enough to let you deal with it. 

When you're confident the bleeding has stopped you let his hand go and Rio takes the hint to go to the bathroom and clean up the rest. You two linger for a little before you both make your exit. You don’t know what he discussed half the night, plans for opening up another business it was all corporate jargon you just weren’t interested in. 

The car ride now is completely silent, no radio, nothing just breathing and the occasional glance at the phone here and there. 

You pull up to a strange building and Rio drives underground and parks the car. He turns to look at you and you stare back not knowing what he’s gonna say

“Gonna wait in here or upstairs?” 

“Upstairs?” you answer unsure of what the right option was

He nods and gets out of the car and being the gentleman of the night he opens the door for you again. You slowly make your way out of the car and walk beside him as he walks into the concrete building, you see number letter combos on the doors. It must be an apartment building you think to yourself. When you arrive on the fourth floor via the elevator only one door is present to you, you assume it was a penthouse unit. 

He opens the door and lets you in, “I’ll be quick just need to change” you nod “make yourself comfortable” he offers before disappearing into the hallway. 

Only  a few lights were turned on. From what you could see it was very much Rio, in some ways it resembled his office at the warehouse. Not a lot of clutter, everything seemed to have its place and served a purpose, no need for the extra fluff. As you continue to take in the space you see a few pictures of Marcus and him along with a larger picture of the greater family. Even the art framed matched him somehow. You turn to the kitchen and think to yourself either he didn’t cook or he cooked everything from scratch except for the very expensive espresso machine sitting on the counter. 

You take a few steps in and your hand grazes the back of his leather couch. It has minimal signs of being utilized. He was busy so a couch with signs of use didn’t seem right. You turn to face the hallway hearing noise coming from that end, a door closed. There were two hallways one by the kitchen the other by the wall where Rio disappeared. You want to walk around exploring his house like he has done to yours several times, you want to strip away any ounce of privacy he had left, you wanted him to feel exposed and vulnerable like he made you feel, not maliciously, maybe some ill intent involved to get back at him if you were being truthful with yourself. To even out the playing field in some sort of way. After he broke into your house the first time and you discovered he looked around you got rid of every sex toy that existed practically became celibate involuntarily. 

“I’m ready” you hear as Rio walks out with a bandaged arm wearing his usual garb. You smile at him and wait for him to approach you. “You could have made yourself a drink or sat down” he chuckles

“It’s okay, I know you have somewhere to be, don’t want to hold you up.” you say before turning to walk away towards the door. 

This time there was music on your way to your house. 

“Sooo what happened to... your...... hand?” you dare to ask after 15 minutes of driving. There's a long silence before he responds. He takes in a deep breath “Fucker moved and I punched the floor” 

“Ouch” you comment 

“Mhm!” 

“Take pain meds?”

“Mhm!”

You nod and look out the window watching as the city lights fade away as you approach the suburbs. Satisfied with his answers. 

He pulls into the driveway turning off the car before slowly turning to face you 

You feel nervous; it's not how he typically looks at you with a blank face or annoyance; there's familiarity in his gaze; he is comfortable with you, well at this moment anyway. 

You giggle nervously “You have somewhere to be”  you say before looking into your bag to find your key “got my keys and cellphone” 

There's a lazy smile on his face “ ‘preciate you joining me tonight” 

You nod, smiling “You made a good impression, they really like you.” That was the whole purpose of the night, right? 

He smiles again looking away  

“Yup well goodnight Rio” you say before opening the door

“Oh come on you wouldn’t let me open the door this time?” he asks jokingly as you step out “Oh! Slipped my mind, sorry” 

He nods stepping out of the car “well the least I can do is walk you to your door” 

You nod in response and close the door making your way towards the house, you were used to him being angry with you, you knew how to navigate around him when he was, this was different it felt like you were being studied in ways you didn’t even understand. 

You fumble slightly to open the door but you do and step in “do you want to come in?” you offer just to offer not that you really wanted it 

He shakes his head “can’t” 

“Right you have things to do, well I guess thanks for the evening I had fun hope your hand heals” 

“Yea here’s your cut” he says handing you the envelope full of money before walking away. 

Friday October 14, 2022

“Have you talked to him?” Alicia asks

“Talked to who?” “Who else?!” 

You sigh “no!” you were starting to regret telling your sisters about the faux date between you and Rio

“Why not?” 

“Well it’s more of like a ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ thing”

“Did you text him the next day?”

You look at the camera on your phone “To tell him what?” 

“Y/N!” Gia scolds 

“Whaaaaat?” You whine

“You were supposed to tell him that you enjoyed your time” she continues

“I already told him that when the night was over! He doesn’t need me to say it again!” 

“You’re supposed to remind him, to keep his mind on you!” 

You roll your eyes “Ugh there's too many rules to dating now”

“Christmas is approaching” she threatens 

“I know!” 

“Either you show up with a boyfriend or we tell mom and dad!” 

You let out a sigh of frustration “Fine! Just tell them. Tell mom and dad!” They remain quiet “What? I don’t think I will have anyone by then guys. I'm busy, I just don’t have the time and I can't ask any man to accommodate this schedule of mine. I know mom and dad won’t be happy  but hey its okay we can’t have it all” 

“That's not true” Alicia speaks up sounding sad

“Don’t Alicia” you warn “I’m not dying here, you guys are acting a bit crazy over this”

“What's wrong with wanting someone to take care of you like you do everyone else?” 

“Nothing I just want you guys to be a bit more realistic on how soon or the possibilities of that happening. But I don’t like talking about myself. I wanna hear about you guys. How are your beaus?”

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

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