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xspookymetalheadx · 7 months

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Hi everyone, I'm new to Tumblr. I have been inspired by Booktok to create and write my own stories to share with others. I've been wanting to write for a long time but I just didn't know what. I finally feel inspired so all I ask is please be nice and respect my work. I would love any feedback or opinions, or ideas on how to make the story more interesting. If you are going to be rude or disrespectful i will block you. Thank you for your time. This is called "Exotic Chaos".

✨Prologue✨

The sound of my coffee pouring out scalding liquid is music to my ears as I yawn and my neck cracks. I look at my phone, the white screen blinding me for a second. It's five thirty in the morning and I haven't got an ounce of sleep. My husband has been missing for forty eight hours and police have yet to find any clues to his disappearence.

Lost in my thoughts, I decide to go to my son's room down the hall and take a quick peak. He's sound asleep and is cuddled in his batman blanket. I crack his door and head back to the kitchen. He looks peaceful, so I am going to let him sleep.

The coffee maker makes a beeping noise and I put my cup underneath the spout and inhale the steam. Smooth caramel flavor....good for the soul.

I pick up the coffee pot and pour myself a cup. I add a little sugar and mix. I grab some ice from the freezer and plunk them into the burning liquid.

I look inside my fridge and see I still have creamer and caramel sauce. I grab both and once the final stir is in, my potion will be ready.

I'm sitting on my couch and decided to turn on the early morning news. All I see is bullshit about the weather and people getting upset over politics. All of that didn't matter to me. I was more hopeful there would be something brought up in the public about what happened to my husband. I take a sip of my sweet, creamy creation and stare off into the distance. What if I'm next?

I shake my head and sigh. You can't think like that. I decide to gulp down my beverage in one go and get up. Right as I stood up, my cat, Salem, rubs up against me and meows. "Good morning, sweet girl," I bend down and pick her up. She melts into my chest and starts purring. I nessle my chin into her head. "I take it you slept well." She looks up at me with her bright orange eyes and head butts me and scoots closer to my neck.

I start to remember the day I rescued her. I was on my way to work in the heavy rain on a highway when I spotted her in the middle of the road. I put my hazards on and thankfully people drove around me. I remember wrapping her up in a blanket and running back to my car. She was shivering and very frail. Somehow she made it through the night and I ended up taking her to the nearest vet that next morning. By the grace of the universe, she only had a bacterial infection that was caught just in the nick of time. She had to spend the night for twenty four hours while on IV treatment and antibiotics.

I scratch her silky ears as she completely flops in my lap. Before I can even react, my phone starts ringing. I glance at the caller ID, and see it's my best friend, Vixen. My thumb swipes the green button and I stand up.

"I didn't think you would answer this early. Are you okay?" I sigh into the phone and run my fingers through my messy hair. "There has been no update on my husband. I'm starting to feel like something awful happened to him."

There's a short pause and she continues. "I'm sorry, Luna. I know this is mentally draining you. Maybe since you are awake, I can pick you up and we can go do something fun. You need to get out of the house."

I groan. I'm not a very outdoorsy person. Going to and from work is draining enough, and all I care about is keeping my bills paid and keeping everyone above water. She laughs at me. "I'll come get you around eight thirty. I want to see my little superhero!"

A half smile appears on my face and I shake my head. "We will be ready." I glance at the time and it's already six forty five. I drop my dirty dish in the sink and make my way into my son's room.

He is laying on his back, and his covers are over his feet. My hand slowly traces his cheek and he opens his eyes. I bend down to kiss his forehead. "Time to get up, sweetheart. Auntie Vixen is coming to get us at eight thirty."

His eyes light up and he jumps out of bed. He runs past me and goes into the bathroom. "When you are done with your shower, please get dressed and sit down out here. I'm pretty sure she will buy us breakfast, so you can have a cup of milk or juice before we leave." My son's head pops around the door frame. "Okay, mommy."

My son and I are waiting on my front porch for Vixen to show up. I take out a pack of Marlboro Smooths and slide out a single stick. A flick of my thumb on my lighter sends the end of the cigarette into a bright red cherry frenzy. My body tingles all over for a few seconds. I keep telling myself I will quit smoking these and switch to vaping, but the rush of nicotine going through my veins off of one drag keeps my inner cranky bitch from coming out. I look up and I see her pull up in my driveway in her metallic purple Mercedes. A heavy metal song is blasting through her speakers and makes the car shake. She grins when she sees us and turns off the car.

"Hi, big man! Auntie got you a present." She hands him a set of hot wheels cars. His face lights up and he hugs her.

"Please tell me we are getting something to eat," I say desperately. "I only had a cup of magical bean juice."

She shakes her head and giggles at me. "We are going to Starbucks." Suddenly, her eyes dart off to where my mailbox is. She takes a few steps towards it and squints her eyes. "Did someone break into your mailbox?"

I step on my cigarette and walk down the porch steps. "What are you talking about? Who would even think of stealing mail?"

She takes my arm and pulls me towards her. I look over at my son and he's sitting in the backseat making airplane noises with his new toys. I come face to face with the opening to my mailbox. I noticed bent metal, and.....

What the fuck is that?

I look closer and see a few drops of blood have been smeared on the surface. My stomach starts doing flips and I look up at Vixen.

"We have to open it. Try not to touch the blood."

Her eyes widen. "Are you fucking kidding me? This can be a clue or something. Cross contamination is a serious thing!"

I pause for a second and think about what I'm about to do, and I decide to be a nosy bitch anyway.

I pull the handle down and jump back. The sunlight beams through the inside and I see a brown box with black duct tape holding it shut. I slowly pull it out and examine it. No return address. All it has written on it is my name and where I live.

I walk back into my house and grab a sharp knife to cut through the tape. Vixen has a confused and terrified look on her face as I pull the sides of the box down.

Inside there is crumpled white tissue paper and an envelope is sitting on top of a smaller box that's sealed. I grab the envelope and turn it over. Written in cursive is "Luna".

Taking a deep breath, I place my finger in the crease of the corner and rip the top off. My fingers pull out a folded letter. My eyes skim over the piercing words.

"He shattered your heart, so I gutted his out. Happy Valentine's Day, Baby."

With my mouth gaping wide open now, I attempt to keep my hand still as I shred apart the tape to the smaller box. My chest feels tight and I'm struggling to focus. I close my eyes for a second to collect myself.

Vixen comes through the door carrying my son on her hip. "What is it?" My gaze meets hers and I hand her the note. Her face turns pale.

"This could be your husband's killer!"

I purse my lips and cock my head to the side. "Vixen, I have to see if this shit is actually real."

She sits down and tells my son to go his room. He pouts, but follows her instruction and closes his door shut.

"Luna, you have to turn this in to the police. If you want answers, here's some evidence!"

I bite the inside of my cheek. I carefully remove all the extra tissue paper and dive into the smaller box that awaits me.

As I lock my attention on the object that's sitting there, I begin to scream.

A massacred heart covered in dry blood. Alongside the rotted organ laid black orchid flowers, crafted into a precise heart shape. The petals had pieces of ribcage stuck to them. My vision goes out and I feel myself fall backwards, blanking out at the last second.

✨CHAPTER 1: The HitMan✨

~48 HOURS EARLIER~

I take out my pocket knife and click it open. I examine the blade as I lick my lips. This thing could definitely cut diamonds....or panties.

"Do you know who the fuck I am?!"

I snap out of my fantasy world and look down at the pathetic piece of trash sitting in a chair, arms and legs bound by thick brown rope. I laugh.

"You're a fucking disgrace to Luna," I begin. I slowly walk behind him and place my hands on his shoulders. His body freezes beneath my grip. I swiftly grab his hair and yank his neck back so his eyes are looking up into mine.

"You're the scum of the earth. If Luna even saw a glimpse of who you truly are, you would lose the best thing that ever happened to you. I know everything you do, John. You screw barely legal girls and launder money. I also know you like to beat on women. A few weeks ago you gave Luna a black eye and busted nose."

I take a deep breath and have to ground myself for a minute. I remember that evening vividly.

She was sitting outside on her porch, the light drizzle of rain lightly covering the withered steps. The smoke from her cigarette blended in with the faint light above her. Her phone made a noise as she took a long drag. The phone screen illuminated on her soft pale face, but to my horror, there was smeared blood on her lips and chin. My gaze fixated on her nose, where I could tell it was swollen and bruised. Her left eye was puffed up and probably pulsating from the agony she had to endure.

"My wife is a piece of shit. She's gotten lazy over the years, and she has excuses as to why things aren't done. After she had our son, it messed up her body. Who wants to fuck damaged goods?"

I'm beginning to see red as I place myself in front of him. I forcefully grab his jaw and yank him up to my eye level.

"Don't you ever talk about her like that again."

He batches up a loogie in his throat and spits in my eye. "If you like her so much, you can have her. She means nothing to me!"

It was in this moment that I plunged my blade into his right thigh until I felt his bone snap in half. The floor underneath us was showered in red liquid. His shriek of suffering was music to my ears. Gripping the end of my weapon, I withdraw back and it slides out like butter. I suck in a deep breath and wipe his bodily fluids off the blade with my bare fingers. Deciding to stuff it away in my back pocket, I nonchalantly pull out my slick ebony .45 Glock and press it against the center of his forehead. His face has drained of all color and his eyes widen as he realizes his doom. I grin sinisterly and make eye contact.

"Thank you for giving me permission, John. I will take it from here."

Before he can even utter a word, I pull the trigger. Brain and bone matter explode everywhere.

I look over at my accomplice and nod my head. "Get rid of this meat suit. Spare the heart."

The accomplice nods back and immediately pulls out his burner cell to make a call.

The scorching water flows down my skin as I release all my tension in my body. My gaze follows the liquid down to the drain where it adequately swirls crimson streaks until it vanishes. My eyes close, and I feel at peace for a moment.

Right as I get focused to finish my shower, my cell phone starts ringing.

I decide to let it ring as I concentrate on getting soap and shit off me, making sure I get every inch of skin. Once I'm free of any DNA evidence on my body, I calmly turn the nozzle until the shower stops running.

I sheepishly wrap a towel around my waist and look at my phone. It was my accomplice. The other line rings a couple times and he answers.

"The job is done, boss. How do you want your gift delivered?"

I set my phone down on my bathroom sink hitting the speaker button. "Same day delivery, please."

~PRESENT DAY~

"Scotch, no ice."'

The bartender writes down my order and goes to the back to make my drink. My eyes scan the bar as my request is placed on a napkin beside me. Placing my card on the bar, I get a sip.

The bartender hands me my receipt and I sign my initials.

I go back to fixating on the hundreds of bodies that are dry humping and getting shit faced.

Tilting my head back, I throw the Scotch down my throat.

A petite hand slides up my back and gently caresses my arm.

"You look lonely. Want some company?"

A young woman wearing a skin tight pink dress that barely holds her tits leans against me. The smell of her perfume clogs my nose. "If you take me home tonight, you won't regret it," She whispers in my ear with her heavily painted lips. Right as her fingers brush my crotch, I sternly placeher arm back at her side.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You can't have me."

She gives me a dirty look and flips me off.

As I'm watching her get as far away from me as possible, my sight lands on the pool table in a separate area away from the dancefloor.

A lump forms in my throat as I heavily watch a creepy guy that's trying to grope Luna's ass. She's here with Vixen, which is good to know. If I found out she came here alone, she wouldn't be able to sit down for a whole day.

I bite my lip just thinking about what I would do to her.

However, I must admit she's been a good girl lately. I wonder how she liked my present.

My eyesight is on high alert as I watch him stand over her while she's bent over the pool table, attempting to take her shot at winning the game. He looks like a famished predator, waiting to strike at any moment that she's vulnerable. His perverted mind goes to the gutter as he takes a step back to admire her figure.

Glancing at her untouched drink, I watch him take out a plastic bag from his pocket and dump white powder into her glass.

Right as she reaches for her refreshment, Vixen punches him in the jaw and he goes down on the floor.

"Stupid bitch!!" He roars out in fury. The crowd goes silent, and security has already gotten him on his feet. He's caressing his face and tears are streaming down his cheeks. What a pussy. He doesn't know it yet, but he's a dead man.

After he is escorted out of the building, I decide to follow, staying several feet behind. When we all make it outside, a police car is waiting. Blue and red lights illuminate the street like a rave. Nosy pedestrians are asking questions about what happened.

Since everyone is distracted, and the police are taking statements, I confidently walk up to the perp who attempted to drug Luna and sit next to him.

"So I hear you like to spike drinks,"

I swiftly reach over and dig in his pocket for anymore substances. Attempting to twist my arm and throw me off him, I laugh.

Looking at me with complete regret, I hold up three small bags with the unknown chemical and wave them in his face.

"Why do you give a fuck about what I do?" He snaps, and tries to slap my hand away.

My eyebrows furrow and I seize his neck in a matter of seconds. One wrong move and it's lights out.

"You targeted my woman. You don't deserve to breathe the same oxygen she does. It's a fucking privilege."

As his face turns a light shade of purple, my grip on his neck loosens.

He catches his breath, and after regaining his balance, he laughs.

"That bitch is worthless. She's lucky her fatass got my attention. She was asking for it!"

My chest tightens, and my vision blurs. Good thing I have my accomplice on speed dial.

I catch him off guard by knocking his teeth in with my gun. Before he can let out a cry for help, I'm subduing him in a headlock and clasp his mouth open.

The poison that occupied the empty baggies were slithering down his throat and his body was lashing like a fish out of water. My palm was blocking his mouth and nose; the harder he fought, the tighter my grip.

After about thirty seconds of struggle, he went limp. Foam mixed with clots of blood seeped out of his nasal cavity and onto the ground beneath.

Pushing the now dead body off me, I take out my phone and snap a picture.

Glimpsing around, I drag the body to my car and stuff him in the trunk. My accomplice is waiting patiently on the passenger side.

"You look rough, boss."

I sigh, and rev up my engine. "What does a man have to do to get a break?"

There's only one thing that can give me peace and sanctuary, and there's only one person that can tame my inner demons.

Her.

And I will do everything in my power to make her mine, even if it means going to the deepest depths of hell to prove she's my paradise.

#booktok #smut #booklr #dark romance

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morkleemelon · 3 years

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off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

163 notes · View notes

bluebellwriting · 3 years

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Love Me Tender Part 6

Hey folks! I know it’s been a minute, I’ve been super busy with work and school, but I’m by no means done with this piece and you know I had to post something for Valentine’s Day (to make up for the fact that single and lonely 😆😭)

Despite popular belief, Hell does in fact freeze over. It’s Hell, after all, and in the world of pain and torture, everything is fair game. And it’s February, historically one of the coldest months for you back when you were living and certainly the most miserable in Hell too. The roads are slick with sheets of ice, you can’t walk a block without a three-foot icicle nearly spearing itself through you, and everyone’s car is perpetually trapped in a snowbank thanks to Lucifer’s “generous snow plow program.” Each winter day reminds you of the worst snow cyclones from when you were growing up in Brooklyn, cold yes, but in a way it’s all very sentimental. They remind you of the winter nights cuddled up with your siblings, hot chocolate in hand, listening to the winds blustering against your windows. It’s all rather lovely, in a strange way.

Your boyfriend of four months does not seem to agree, if the way he’s gripping you and nuzzling into your neck is anything to go by. You’ve been trying to extricate yourself from your practically shared bed for the last ten minutes, but each attempt only causes Alastor to pull you closer. He’s basically on top of you now, those boney forearms are stronger than you’d think.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper. “It’s time to get up.”

Alastor groans but otherwise your voice falls on deaf ears.

“Come on, we have to make breakfast and then--”

“But darling, it’s freezing,” he sighs. “And why would I go anywhere when I have my own personal heater right here.”

It’s really hard to stay mad at him, especially when he places sweet little kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back again.

“Well your personal heater has some errands to run and needs to get her day started.”

“Ugh,” Alastor whines and inch by inch, begins to roll off of you. “How can you even stand to be out in that unbearable cold? Don’t you want to stay right here with me, your loving and adoring boyfriend?”

“You know I would,” you boop his nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to get your present.”

His ears perk up immediately.

“Present?” He coos. “A present for lil’ ol’ me? Dearest, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, but I can’t pick it up until I get out of this bed.”

“Oh fine. I suppose I have some things to do for tonight as well,” he teases and kisses you on the nose before finally allowing you to shift out of bed.

“Although before you leave me,” he whines. “I have a little something to kick off the festivities.”

With a snap of his fingers, a red garment manifests in your arms.

“Oh, Alastor.” You run your hands over the thick velvet of the dress. “It’s lovely.”

“This is just the beginning, love. Now go try it on,” he shoos you off to the bathroom, then immediately curls back up into the comforter to protect himself from the draft leaking in from your window.

The dress is beautiful and warm. As soon as you change into it and assess yourself in the bathroom mirror it hits you that this has to be a customized dress. It fits you far too perfectly and the fabric is so soft, it’s like a blanket heating you up and snuggling you in. It’s either custom or enchanted with Alastor’s magic. Or maybe both, you wouldn’t put it past him to make this the perfect dress.

The last four months together have been a dream. A blissful and rapturous dream that you never want to wake up from. If you thought he was sweet before you began dating, then this is an entirely new level. You two are practically glued to the hip, and he finds a way to make every possible moment so enthralling and exciting that it doesn’t even matter.

Everything about him is just enthralling, and the best part is that he can’t seem to get enough of you either. It makes your face warm and your mouth split into a grin just thinking about it.

You poke your head out of the bathroom door and giggle at the sight of Alastor in his own personal blanket cocoon.

“Comfortable?” You ask.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were here with me.”

“While that sounds tempting, I wouldn’t want to ruin my fabulous new dress.”

He shoots up, blanket still around his shoulders, eyes wide and alert and trained on the way the bodice clings to your curves. It’s even more perfect than he could have expected.

“Do you like it?” He scoots to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out for you to step into.

“I love it.” You smile and step between his legs to fall into his embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“That’s just the beginning, dear,” he cheers.

“Alastor, you didn’t--”

“Nonsense! It’s our first Valentine’s together and it must be the best of all time!” Ever one for theatrics, with a flourish of his arm the room is filled with red roses.

“Oh my goodness,” you giggle and cup his face in your hands. “You darling man.”

Alastor melts into your hands, letting the softness of your palms warm his cheeks.

“Only for you, love.” He leans forward and nuzzles your nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

If you weren’t worried about getting to the store and back in time, you would have stayed here, exactly like this, for hours more.

“Let’s begin the day, shall we, love?” You whisper.

“But it’s cold!” He whines. “And you’re so warm!”

“Ugh, you’re such a southern boy,” you tease and pull away from him, if only to draw him out of his blanket nest and into the world.

“You love this southern boy,” he laughs and finally rises. With a quick snap, he’s dressed in a redder-than-average suit with one of the red roses on your floor now pinned to his lapel.

He hands you your coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and tries to force another sweater upon you but you stop him before you’re a complete bundle of wool and layers.

---

Charlie must have gotten up early because the entire lobby is littered with hearts and confetti. Chocolates are on every available surface and your fearless leader is currently snuggling with Vaggie in matching heart sweaters. You watch Angel hand Husk a box of chocolates wrapped in a lovely bow. Hesitantly, Husk opens the box and spits out whatever he was drinking all over your brother before stomping away with a red face.

“What did you do to that poor man?” You call over.

“Just gave him an innocent token of my affections,” Angel chimes and shows you the contents of the box: three rows of chocolates with letters printed on each piece, spelling out “Best Dick Ever.”

“Angel, that is so vulgar,” you exclaim.

“It’s the day of love, sis.” Angel pops one of the pieces into his mouth.

“That is not love, my fellow,” Alastor chastises.

“Aww, that’s cute coming from you, strawberry pimp.”

“I’ll have you know that I am plenty romantic,” Alastor says incredulously. “Aren’t I, (Y/N)?”

“You are, love. The most romantic,” you coo. “Now I have to get going. Please be nice, boys.”

“And you,” Alastor leans down to pull your scarf tighter around you, “promise me that you will be careful. You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, love. I’ll be fine. Angel,” you turn to him. “Be nice.”

“’K, mom,” he calls back to you, waving as you begin your journey into the chilly winds.

“So,” Angel drawls, sidling up to Alastor. “What are you doing for my sister on this ever most sacred day of love and affection?”

“Something special and perfect and I will not have you distracting me,” Alastor sighs and snaps his fingers, transporting himself to his cottage deep in the woods of the Pentagram. Because only a crazy person would want to walk out in that cold. Good thing Alastor loves your kind of crazy.

---

It’s been a while since Alastor has been to his home, his actual home, one that is reminiscent of the large, Queen Anne-style homes of New Orleans. Dust is collecting on the counters and window sills, but that’s nothing that some quick magic can’t fix. The real task at hand is the redecorating and the meal he has to prepare for tonight to be as perfect as can be. This is certainly not the first time that you’ve been to his home but he’s hoping that it will be the last time that he calls it “his home.”

If he had it his way, tonight would be the night that Alastor asked you to marry him, to spend the rest of eternity -- or as long as you’d have him at least -- together in Hell as husband and wife, as partners in crime until the very fabric of the universe began to fray at the seams. He’s known for so long, long before you began your courtship, that he wanted to marry you and it took everything within him not to propose to you on your first date. But he had to be patient, suave, a perfect gentleman, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off with a hasty courtship and engagement. The last man who had attempted that with you, well, Alastor was still in the process of hunting him down so he could offer you his head on a spit. That was supposed to be the second part of your Valentine’s gift but alas, the wretched soul was more slippery than he had anticipated.

Hopefully you’d be impressed enough by the way he had decorated the house with some of your favorite colors and furniture from the 1940s, things to make it look more like a home you could share and grow into.

---

The beauty about Hell in the wintertime is that there are so few people out on the streets to bother you. The sidewalks and roads are eerily quiet, the snow swallowing up distant sounds so the only ones left is the crunch of your boots. Your trip to Rosie’s had been quick, as the poor woman was overrun with sinners trying to buy up last-minute Valentine’s gifts. As she said to you in passing while gift wrapping some tacky jewelry for a panicked demoness, “good for business, bad for relationships.”

You clutched your gift bag close to your chest, guarding it from any muggers who would even dare steal the most perfect gift for your Alastor. This was weeks in the making and you were not about to let someone ruin your first good Valentine’s Day.

You approached the door to the hotel, already anticipating a warm fire to warm your cheeks and nose, when suddenly an arm is around you and you’re no longer in front of the hotel. No, after blinking your eyes to readjust, you’re now staring at Alastor’s home, which means the arm and body hugging you close belongs to your sweet, adoring, and sometimes startling beau.

“Alastor!” You squeal. “What have I told you about surprising me like that?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles. “But I just couldn’t have you out in the cold any longer.”

“If this wasn’t a day dedicated to love you’d be buried in snow right now,” you grumble.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetest. Now come on, the fire is waiting for you.”

When Alastor first brought you into his home it was your one-month anniversary. You were actually relieved when it wasn’t a massive mansion like most Overlords pick for themselves, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by the perfectly retro, 1920s decor.

But it’s different now. The living room has new, floral wallpaper and some of the furniture reminds you of... your old home back in New York.

“You redecorated,” you shiver as you allow the warmth of the home heat up your body. Alastor rubs his hands up and down your shoulders to warm you up as soon as your coat and layers have been shed.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely,” you breathe and inhale, smelling the hot meal he’s probably slaved over. “Just surprising. What brought this on?”

“Oh, just, wanted to try something new. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ve been salivating since I first stepped into the door.”

Dinner is delicious, mouth wateringly incredible and cajun. But all throughout dinner you couldn’t help but notice the way Alastor’s knee bounced or the way his hand shook whenever he held his fork to his mouth. Not to mention the eery quiet between you two. You can’t seem to get more than a one-word response out of him. It makes your heart drop, and the way his eyes shift away from your gaze makes a pit form in your stomach.

“Alastor, love. Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart up to meet yours. His teeth worry his bottom lip and you can hear his fingers tapping excessively on his seat.

“Of course, darling. Everything is right as rain. Are you enjoying your food?”

“It’s amazing, Al. It’s always amazing.” You beam at him and reach across the table to hold on to his hand.

“If you don’t have any more delightful surprises for me, love, could I give you my gift now?”

“(Y/N) you didn’t--”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Reaching down beside your chair, you pull out the perfectly wrapped present and slide it across the table to him.

“It’s not much,” you explain. “But I hope you like it.”

It’s perfect. So perfect, the wrapping, the bow, the very idea that his darling has given him a gift at all, that he doesn’t even want to open it. As much as he wants to tear it open, there’s the urge to keep this moment preserved in his mind forever and ever, just in case his present to you goes south tonight.

But from the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful, he knows he has to open it right now.

Inside is a little plastic... view finder? He’s really never seen anything like this. They look like binoculars but there’s a little white disk inside with small film negatives along the circumference.

“It’s a reel viewer,” you explain. “Put it up to your eyes and click the lever.”

So he does. And with each click he’s met with little candids of you and him, some from before your relationship began, some from after, all of them more perfect than the last and preserved forever just for him. His heart swells and warms an overwhelming amount. His joy leaks from his mouth and eyes, until it feels like the sun itself is pouring through his teeth and tears.

“Oh, (Y/N), darling...” he sniffles.

“I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s everything, dearest.” It really is. And more importantly it’s enough for him to get his act together. He feels like he can breathe again, like the fog of doubt has finally been lifted. What was he so worried about? You love him, of course, you love him.

“It’s perfect.” He rises and comes to kneel before you. “More lovely and wonderful than you will ever know. So much better than my gift to you but I hope you will love it all the same. I love it, (Y/N). I love you. So, so very much, dearest.”

“Alastor, I’m going to love anything you give me because I love you, sweetheart.” You peck his nose.

“Yes, well, that’s the thing. Because really, this feels more like just another gift from you to me.”

“Is it now?” You tease.

“It is...” he sighs. “I love you. I hope you never have to doubt that for an instant in your life. And I know this might be too soon, and you can say no for now, or forever, but I have never doubted for a minute that you are the one for me. My gift to you, love, sweetheart, darling dearest, is this.”

He motions to the dining room.

“The... dining room?”

“No, love,” he chuckles. “The house. My house... Our house. If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

You gasp and tears flood your eyes so quickly that you have to blink them away to see Alastor’s hopeful eyes properly.

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“I am. I’m asking you to make this house, our home.”

“Oh, Alastor.” You launch forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his in a bruising kiss, letting him bundle you up in his own arms and grip your waist.

You pull way for a brief moment, short enough to mumble out a fervent series of ‘yeses.’

“Of course,” you say between kisses to his face. “Of course, I’ll move in with you.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x Chubby!reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #valentine's day #they say write the stories you want to see

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

acquainted | ten

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy, some good car sex w/ breast play, straddling, fingering, a lil spit play

note: to the anon who requested the one shot, i promise i have it done - i can’t post it juuuust yet tho lol

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"How was your date, Jungkookie?" Hoseok asks as he forks into his salad. Jungkook sits in front of Hoseok and Yoongi, while Namjoon and Jin sit off to either of his sides. Kook does a simple chuckle with his nose scrunched as he's digging into his fries.

"Good." He smirked.

"Oooh, Jungkookie has a girlfriend!" Hoseok laughed, causing both Namjoon and Jin to shoot looks at each other while shifting in their seats.

"No, but I hope to ask her out."

"Wait, like really ask her to be your girlfriend?" Yoongi chimed in, his gummy smile coming forth with a small high-pitched laugh. "How cute."

"Yeah, I want to. Not right at this moment, but I've already been planning on how to have this talk with her about being exclusive."

"Aw, our Kookie is growing up!"

"Shut up." Jungkook laughs. "I just really like her. She's beautiful, and smart and fun to be around."

"Are you seeing her today?"

"No, but I'm gonna hang out with her tomorrow. She has stuff to get done."

"Do you see her a lot?"

"A good amount, but I try not to suffocate her."

"Jin, you haven't said anything. What's up with you?" Jin looks up from his plate, eyes quickly roaming between all of them.

"Sorry, I just knew all of this already. It's nothing unexpected." He gives off a fake chuckle.

"Grace issues?" He shrugged.

"Sure, but this isn't about me." They nod and shift their attention back to Jungkook. Whew.

"Have you gotten her in bed?"

"Woah, Yoongi? What the fuck." Namjoon laughed.

"I'm just curious and we're always honest with each other right?" Joon shoots Jin a quick look before shaking his head at Yoongi.

"No." Kook chuckled. "I mean I don't care for it much. If she isn't ready to take that step with me then I won't force her."

"What a gentleman! Jin you taught him well." They laughed. Jin is reciprocating the energy with a small smile, as that's the best he can do right now. He didn't want this topic to come up only because he did already know how Jungkook felt about you. Yes, he felt bad, but also, he didn't want to let up on you. He wasn't going to, and Namjoon can easily tell he wasn't over you even though he told Jungkook to go for it. He hated having this silent competition. He knew his feelings for you were growing and he couldn't help but feel like a child over it.

I saw her first. I got her first. Me. Not you.

And so their conversation over an early dinner gets put to rest, Jin thanking God that no one pressed him more about Grace or why he truly wasn't saying much. They were all too caught up in Jungkook's feelings. All, except Namjoon. Jin gets to his classroom a little early to get himself together for class, gathering all his thoughts and feelings about you, Jungkook, Grace, etc., and pushing it to a far, far corner in his mind. At least, until class is over.

[Namjoon] 5:04pm: You couldn't be any more obvious.

[Jin] 5:05pm: What are you talking about now?

[Namjoon] 5:05pm: You're still seeing her. Or, let me rephrase - You're still trying to pursue her even after you told your brother to go for it.

[Jin] 5:06pm: It's complicated.

[Namjoon] 5:06pm: Seokjin, please. What did I tell you? Don't start this mess.

[Jin] 5:07pm: It'll be fine, okay? I appreciate the concern but stop worrying about me.

He sighs as he paces around the front of his room. The real reason as to why you weren't hanging out with Jungkook tonight was because of him. He needed to see you. Feel you. Touch you. Be close to you. There was also something he needed to bring up, hoping you'd agree to it.

Namjoon was right. The concern is valid. However, if things pull through the way Seokjin expects it to, then he knows what he has to do from there. He'll know how to approach this better. Hopefully.

Seeing you in class makes him feel at ease. He loves the little smiles you send his way when you both make eye contact. He just loves to look at you. Smiling and laughing with your friends. Your serious face when it's time to focus. He has it bad for you.

"Alright, class. Get those in to me on time by next week and I'll think about the movie." Jin laughs as the class has mixed reactions while packing up their things.

"But Mr. Kim it's a really good movie, don't you think we deserve a little break in class?" Taehyung whines as he picks up his bag.

"I always think you guys deserve a break, the movie though? Not sure if it's my cup of tea."

"Awww come on, just once." The class whined, making Jin laugh that adorable laugh he has. It was cute to see how adored Jin was by your classmates. He truly was a great teacher and made it a safe environment for everyone. Completely inclusive.

"I'll sleep on it. See you guys next week." He smiles and flashes a wink at a couple of people leaving the classroom saying their goodbyes. He stands at the front, his hands dug into his pockets as he looks at you and Ryujin coming down the steps - always being the last to leave.

"I'm counting on you, Mr. Kim." Ryujin says, flipping her hair.

"Counting on me for what?"

"The movie." She turns to look at you. "And other things." You shove her out the door before looking over at Jin, who hasn't stopped chuckling.

"You heard her." He nods.

"Pick you up in a few?" He asks, almost at a whisper. You return the nod and smile before walking out. You silently walk next to Ryujin, thinking about what tonight would be about. Not gonna lie, you were excited to be alone with him again, even if that meant being in his car, sitting in silence. The thought alone made you happy. The thought made you push through the day just to get to this point.

"Are you seeing him?"

"Yeah." Is all you respond to Ryujin with.

"Be careful, okay?"

"I know." Ryujin knew you weren't going to let up on Jin easily. She too, just like Namjoon, could tell that you had developed deep feelings for him, yet she just didn't know how you would approach it. Whatever it was though, she was going to have your back and be there for you. She just wished you had told the boys because handling you alone is work! Extra support would have been nice!

Getting home, you toss your things aside and start working on a few assignments until Jin is texting you that he's outside of your building. You feel a little nervous, as if it's a first date when it's really not. You step out of the elevator and into the lobby, just to see him ahead in the driver's seat. He has one hand resting along the wheel while he's scrolling through his phone in the other.

"Hey." You say as you hop into the passenger's seat. He puts his phone down and looks at you, his head tilted towards you and rested against the headrest.

"Hey pretty girl." He softly smiles as he leans over to kiss you on the lips. "Want some ice cream?" You laugh.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" He begins to drive off, taking you to a nearby ice cream joint.

"How was your day today?" You ask him as he's roaming the streets looking for parking.

"It was alright. Went to work for a bit and met up with the boys for an early dinner before class."

"How was that?" He keeps his eyes on the road.

"Mm, good. I love sitting around and hearing about my brother's feelings for you." You chuckle at his sarcasm.

"You're dramatic."

"Call it what you want." He says. "It's still not fair."

"You can do something about it, you choose not to though." You straight up tell him. He parks his car and looks over at you, a small smirk plastered on his face.

"So, do you want me to do something about it?"

"Jin, please. Don't turn this on me. You're the one whining." You get out of the car. It was true. He kept talking about Jungkook and how he couldn't stand it, but yet, his ass was over here doing absolutely nothing. You expected that much though, because what? Was he just going to up and leave his fiancé because of a little jealousy? You honestly didn't think it was that deep for Jin. Maybe a little bit of a competition, but nothing too serious. And that was honestly the most painful realization for you.

You probably weren't worth it.

"I'm not whining, love. Trust me." You subtly roll your eyes at the weak comeback, but you don't throw in a rebuttal. Were you worth it? It was hard to read Jin sometimes. There were days where you felt like this could be more, then there were days where you felt dumb as hell for even having the thought cross your mind.

Like right now, you feel like this could be more with the way he's letting you taste his ice cream, his hand below your chin to catch any melting ice cream from dripping onto your clothing. He takes his cone back to his lips at the same time he's raising the napkin to the corners of your lips. You're both sitting in his car, overlooking the bay and the San Francisco skyline view in his back seat. There's a walking trail in front of the small lot his car is currently parked in, but no one is around. It's just you, Seokjin and your ice cream cones.

"Mmmm, thank you." You say gobbling up the last bit of your cone.

"You're welcome." He chuckles. "How was your day?" You shrugged.

"Same old." You fold your leg onto the seat while the other draped over it just so you could turn and look at Jin. You lean your head against the seat, watching him eat the last bits of his cone. You admired him, and you couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely breathtaking he was. The goddamn nerve. He was literally sitting there in a hoodie and jeans and you thought he was the most endearing thing.

"Sounds fun." He clears his throat as he tosses the napkin into the cup holder in front.

"Why'd you bring me out here?"

"I just wanted to see you. Is that too much to ask for?" He looked at you. "I missed you."

"You see me in class."

"It's not the same and you know it." He cocks his head to the side again to look at you. "Come here." He grabs your hand to pull you closer to him and leans in for a kiss. You rest your hand on his neck as you continue to kiss him back, the sounds of slow kisses being exchanged filling the car. You climb onto his lap as the kiss deepens, your hands gripping Jin's face while his warm, soft hands explored inside your sweater. "You drove me crazy the other night." He whispers as you slightly pull away.

"Good." You respond, bringing your lips back onto his, slowly grinding your hips into his.

"Fuck." He hisses. He quickly aids in removing your leggings before unbuckling his jeans. You feel his hardened member underneath his boxer briefs against your clothed folds, causing you to slightly tilt your head back in pleasure. You feel his hands travel up to your bra, unhooking it and raising your sweater to suck on your nipples freely. You feel his tongue working in circular motions on your hardened bud, causing you to let out a breathy moan. His eyes wander up to your face, slightly shutting close when he sees how much you're enjoying this. He moves to the other breast, his free hand cupping the one he had just removed himself from, tongue exploring your nipple. His hand moves down to aggressively hook your panties to the side, giving him room to swipe his fingers up and down your wet folds.

"Oh shit." You slightly jerk at the sensation, his long fingers taking their sweet time spreading your wetness all around your pussy.

"You're so fucking wet." He keeps his eyes on you and watches your eyes roll to the back of your head when he inserts two digits, pumping them in and out. It's incredibly hot to him how fucking wet you are, the sounds of your pussy now echoing in the car.

"Jin, ohhhhshit." You mewl. "I'm gonna cum." He continues to pump his long fingers into you, the feeling of both pain and pleasure radiating throughout your body. He curves his digits upwards, tickling your core to send you hurdling over the edge. You buck in your position from how hard the orgasm hits you, Jin's wet fingers swiping your folds and gently caressing your sensitive clit. You squeal, the overstimulation becoming a little overbearing but it feels so fucking good. You unbury his hardened member from his boxer briefs, letting your spit dribble down onto his cock as you play with the pre-cum pooling at the head.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. Don't do that shit." He tilts his head back in pleasure. You silently chuckle as you jerk him, getting his dick a little wet before hopping on and filling yourself up with it.

"Ugh, why do you feel so fucking good?" You moan as you fix your position onto him, slowly riding him and easing your way into it. You slip his two fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, his fingers still dripping from your cum.

"I-I've been wanting to fuck you so badly." He lets out a breathy moan. "The things you do to me."

"Yeah?" You say, picking up the pace as his hands guide your hips and direct your pace.

"Just like that, baby." He groans. You love when he called you baby. It made you want to give him all of you.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders, gripping tightly as you grind your hips in a steady motion. You cock your head back in pleasure, Seokjin's hands gripping your breasts. You begin to roll your hips slowly, a louder moan erupting from both him and you.

"I'mgonnafuckingcum." Your words mesh together, unable to speak clearly at how good he feels deep inside of you.

"You're so tight. God, you feel so good, gonna cum with you." Sooner or later, a roll of the hip or two in, your coil is spiraling out of control, causing you to yell Jin's name as you scratch onto his clothed shoulders, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he fills you up at the same time you're milking his dick.

His head slowly raises from against your chest, his cheeks tinted and eyes slightly glazed. He smiles up at you, his lips locking with yours once more before you climb off to clean yourself.

"Y/N." He says, tucking himself back in and getting himself situated in the seat.

"Hm?" You hook your bra back together and fix your sweater.

"I'm going to LA this weekend for a quick business conference." You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure why he was telling you this. It's not like you asked him for a daily play by play.

"Okay, have fun?" You chuckle.

"Meet me there." He looks at you. "I have to be there by Friday morning, but I know you still have work and school."

"Meet you.. in LA?" He nods.

"I really want you to. I'll buy your plane ticket. But also, know that I'm not forcing you." He slightly sighs. "I just wanna be able to spend time with you and do other things together besides fucking each other's brains out."

"Um," is all you can respond with. Because hell to the fuck yes you wanted this. But you weren't sure why you were hesitating? Maybe it was a big jump and you were scared of taking it? The lies you'd have to tell people about where you would be going this weekend? It was all such a mess. Such a huge, huge mess. Part of you also felt like this would be such an easy way for Grace to find out.

"You don't have to tell me your answer now but— just know it'll make me really happy to have you there with me." He looks at you softly, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. Perhaps, you were worth it.

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stay-tinystars · 3 years

Text

Traveling Teacher

Ship: Mark (NCT) x fem reader.

Traveling teacher, non idol au

Word count: 1585

Warnings: reader has very anxious thoughts at the beginning.

A/N: random story I started months ago. I hope you all enjoy this random story. I wanted to write something for Mark, because he's just adorable. I'd love feedback on what you think of this story.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. That's all you kept repeating in your head. You had to calm down, it was going to be alright. He would be here any minute, he was just running late. He wouldn't have asked you here just to stand you up, or would he? This couldn't be another prank.

Leaning forward you rested your head in your hands. Trying to focus on the things around you to ground yourself. You felt the slight breeze around you. The sound of the birds, and the city. The wooden bench beneath you. The feel of the gravel under your shoes. The light weight of your jacket across your shoulders.

The anxiety of the situation seemed to decrease as you focused on the things around you. The sound of shoes against the gravel sounded calming.

"____, You actually came." his words pulling you back to the present, immediate relief flooded through your chest. You looked up to see him smiling at you, he seemed pleased.

"Of course, you asked me to come." You smiled as you stood up dusting off your dark jeans, fixing the hem of your shirt and adjusting the light jacket. You felt lightly undressed. He looked like a model, per usual. His perfectly styled, yet messy hair swept back from his forehead, the leather jacket over a vintage band shirt, and a pair of jeans.

"I wasn't sure that you would actually show." his eyes on the ground as his fingers ran through his hair. His eyes then met yours. "You're usually really reserved, I was afraid I might have scared you off, saying it was a date. I'm glad it didn't." his eyes becoming little crescents, as he gave a genuine smile.

The butterflies in your stomach seemed to swarm, as he guided the way. You started down the path towards the main part of the park.

-------------

Mark was a traveling music instructor, so he came to the primary school twice a week to teach beginning band, and choir. Being an office aid you saw him when he picked up his badge checking in for his class, and when he returned his badge.

The first day he came in, he took you by surprise. The last traveling teacher was a grumpy older man, Mark however was literal sunshine, always kind and friendly to everyone he came across. The children adored him, and all the ladies at the school gushed over him, single or not.

In the few words you would exchange as he checked in and out, you slowly got to know him. You both shared a love for music, especially live music. Last week when he mentioned going to the free concerts in the park you talked with him about some of the ones you attended last summer. That's when he invited you to join him for the mini festival of cover bands that weekend. Completely ignoring the other flirtatious aid, who offered to go in your place, being as you 'didn't get out much'. He just smiled and looked back at you, stating it would be a great getting to know you date. After that he left. You were as red as a tomato, laughing internally at your coworker who was now insisting that there was something wrong with him.

---------

"We haven't ever discussed what made you want to be an office aid at a school" Mark noted, as you strolled towards the outdoor amphitheatre.

"Truthfully I never planned on being an office aid" you laughed. "I wanted to do something with kids, but I didn't want to teach. I considered being a school librarian, but every job I applied for fell through. Then someone my mom knew was retiring from being an office aid, and my mom gave her my resume. I got a call for an interview for a job I never applied for. They ended up hiring me immediately after my interview. I guess the rest is history."

"They must've known you'd be great with kids." He remarked as he guided you towards the small seating section.

"I'm not so sure. I think they needed someone who was kind, but had a firm hand. So I got the job."

"I've seen you with some of those kids. Even the troublemakers listen to you." He praised as he motioned towards the reserved seats in the third row off to the side.

"I'm nowhere near as good with them as you are. You helped Jin get into that special summer program, which I never expected to happen. Especially after he flushed Mrs. Kim's prized fish last year." You praised back as you both took a seat.

"I heard about that." He chuckled. "Jin has a lot of potential, he just didn't know how to direct it. All I did was guide him, and help him on the right path."

"Is that why you became a traveling teacher?"

"Actually, no." He let out a small laugh. "I was supposed to be in Law school. After the first semester I knew I couldn't handle it. I had been tutoring kids in music lessons when I decided I would just try that path. I must say I feel like I make more of a difference now, then I would've as a lawyer."

"You do make a huge difference at my school. The kids are always excited when they get to have Mr. Lee's class. We also have less absences on the days you teach."

"I don't know that I make that much of a difference." His ears turned a slight pink.

"You do. I'm sure we will see many kids in the music industry in the future because of you."

"Guys look it's Mr. Lee, and Miss ____." A child yelled from behind you. The two of you turned in your seats,, to see a few students getting settled in the grass a ways behind you. You both smiled and waved.

"I bet they are on a date!" Another said loudly, your eyes looked down, as you turned around in your seat. The blush was apparent on your cheeks. As Mark made a big scene of stretching and putting his arm around you. A light giggle left your lips as you looked over at him, with a questioning look.

"What?" He asked, and you glanced at his arm then back up to his face. "The kids have to learn somehow. This is how to be smooth." he nodded then did an over the top wink. You laughed again, covering your face with one hand, shaking your head. He was anything but subtle or smooth.

Soon the music started, the energy pulsed through the air. You both sang and danced along to cover after cover. The first band played music your parents listened to.

The second band played music from the early 2000s which Mark ended up serenading you with.

Between bands you just sat, and talked. He found out your favorite movie. You found out he loves cookies and cream Ice Cream.

The last band was a big band 1950s style cover band. During a slower song Mark spun you around, dancing between the rows of seats.

The mini festival seemed to end as soon as it began. The sun had started to pitch in the sky, when Mark asked you to join him for dinner. With a nod of your head you both set off towards the main road in search of food.

"Can I ask you a question?" Mark asked, as you both strolled the main walkway.

"Of course" you looked towards him, curiously.

"If I were to hold your hand would it make you uncomfortable? I mean if you don't want to we don't have to. I mean this is our first date. If you want to consider it an official date. I am but..." he stumbled over his words, he seemed as panicked as you felt. Your lips slightly turned upwards as you reached for his hand.

"We never know unless we try right? That's what I tell the kids." you stated with a small nod, as his fingers encompassed yours. His thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as you walked together.

"That's a good way to look at it. I like the way you look at things. I've noticed that you like to look for that silver lining." He noted, as he glanced towards you, slightly bumping you with his shoulder.

"I have to, it's the only way to keep the storm clouds from taking over." the words came out before you could stop them. His hand gently squeezing yours.

"Storm clouds are part of life. I've encountered my fair share of storms, but most people dwell on the storms." His words settled in your skin. "You don't seem to though."

"It takes rain to make a rainbow." You said quietly, taking a deep breath. "I've been through a lot of storms, some destroyed me. Though those I've learned as the storms come to try to make the best of it, because I know there is a rainbow coming."

He paused his stride, softly pulling your hand making you stop, you turned to face him. His smile was genuine and pure. The setting sun gave him a warm glow.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're my rainbow." His soft words made you melt.

You could feel the heat in your cheeks and ears, as you looked towards the ground. Then back into his eyes. "You might be mine as well"

#nct 127 fluff #nct mark fluff #kpopcatalog #Mark Lee x fem reader #mark lee fluff #nct mark x fem reader #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct mark scenarios #nct mark fic

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 11

A/N An absolution

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The sun was setting over the hills as I drove Jonah and myself out of Los Angeles and towards the desert. It was already getting later in the day so we decided to take the route through Palm Springs to stay there for the night and then make the straight shot to our shared ski lodge in Utah early the next morning.

Our drive was reasonably quiet, Jonah had connected his phone and was playing music quiet through the Bluetooth speakers in the car but neither of us were really focussed on the songs. That was a first, honestly.

I was too busy in my own mind; two Advil deep and still sporting a persistent headache while trying to piece together the events of the day. It had been both the fastest and longest day of my life. Did everyone always have it out for Avalon or was I just disgustingly dense? The way my brother spoke about her made me sick and the way Zach left our conversation with that sly dig made my blood boil. Avalon and I may have argued a lot but she was still my wife and I was supposed to protect her.

Right?

I’d be a complete asshole if I didn’t follow through with the one thing I swore to do in front of a whole congregation of our family and friends ‘til death do us part.

Goddammit.

It was dark by the time we pulled up to the resort in Palm Springs and the desert mountains were smudged into the starry sky in hues of black and dark blues. The city seemed quiet as if nightlife was non-existent. Normally, Jonah and I would complain about that – always ones to thrive off good nightlife, especially on a vacation – but right now, the quiet was perfectly ideal.

The sign out front of the resort read Riviera in curling letters and was lit from two spotlights on the grass below if beckoning us towards it. The parking lot didn’t seem too crowded, so we figured it was a safe place to stay. I parked the car near the entrance and pulled out a bit of the cash from the glovebox before we stepped out into the humid air.

Palm Springs felt far stickier than Los Angeles despite only being a two-hour drive away and I tugged haphazardly at the front of my black t-shirt to try and cool myself down a little as we headed for the doors. The burst of air conditioning that tumbled out of the building when the sliding glass doors opened for us was such a relief, even if our walk from the car hadn’t been that far. The lady behind the desk welcomed us with a smile and chipper hello and Jonah and I shuffled over quietly.

“We’re looking for a room for tonight. Two double beds preferably.” I said, keeping my voice down.

Being quiet felt necessary, even in the near empty lobby at the mere hour of 7:30pm.

The young lady typed away into her computer, her calm smile making me feel only more on edge than I already was. What was there to smile about? I drummed my fingers impatiently on the front desk and glanced back through the large windows to the direction of my car.

Her voice brought me back around, “We have a room available for you! It will be $185 for one night. Two double beds. Is a view of the pool alright with you?”

“Yeah.” I answered quickly. Pool, mountain, who gave a fuck. Honestly, dear reader, I never knew how much people can annoy me until I didn’t want to be around them.

“What’s the name for the booking?” she asked, glancing between Jonah and me expectantly.

“Seavey.” I answered and she typed it into her computer.

I figured since I told Christian we were going on a road trip it would only make sense to use my honest name if anyone came after us. God, I hoped no one would come after us.

I paid in full in cash – much to her surprise but she didn’t argue – and she passed us each a swipe key to our room.

“248. Second floor right past the pool on the other side.”

“Is there a Tesla charging station around here?” I asked.

“You’ll see it across the lot. Closer to the middle entrance doors!”

The hotel was built in a circular shape with the pool in the open courtyard centre and the two storeys of rooms in a pinwheel around it. Our room was at the far end of the building from the lobby and I drove my car down to the Tesla charging stations by the centre entrance to plug it in while Jonah pulled our bags from the backseat.

“What are we going to do with…the case in the trunk?” he asked me softly.

The quiet desert night made for ease of eavesdropping. Who could one trust at a time like that?

“The ice should keep it.” I whispered.

We opened the trunk and Jonah stood close to me for privacy as I unclipped the case and opened the top. The southern California heat had melted most of the ice on the drive and Jonah and I sighed in unison.

“Can’t keep her out here in this humidity.” Jonah whispered.

“I know.” I closed the equipment case and locked the clips again, “Bring her in with us then. It’ll be safer anyway.”

Jonah and I each draped our own bags over our shoulders and then each took a side of the case to lift it out of the trunk and onto the pavement. It was much heavier with the bags of melted ice and we found ourselves staggering a little down the hotel hallway with the weight of it. Of course we had to be on the second floor meaning we had to wait for the elevator.

Have you ever waited for the slowest elevator in the country with a dead body in your suitcase in the wide open? Didn’t think so. It is probably the most torturous thing one could experience. Or…one of the most torturous things one could experience.

I wonder if Avalon suffered.

The room was, of course, the lightest colours possible; the walls painted a light blue and the furniture and sheets all a crisp white. Jonah and I set the equipment trunk on the light brown carpet between us once we stepped inside and we took a second to look around the perfectly clean room. Where was there a place to put a bloody body that wouldn’t raise suspicions from housekeeping the following day?

Jonah peeked into the washroom that was directly to our left and he flicked on the light. The white tile floor was lit by warm pot lights along the ceiling and framed with white walls and a wood toned accent wall behind the dual vanity. The stand-alone tub was against the far wall and sat empty and perfectly clean.

We exchanged silent glances before letting the hotel room door close behind us and we lifted the equipment case into the ensuite. With equal soft huffs, we set it down on the tile and I unclipped the lid to open it up. Each melted ice bag was drained down the tub and the plastic packaging was left on the tile while we situated ourselves on either side of the case. I slid my hands under Avalon’s arms and directed Jonah to take her ankles and we lifted her up together and carefully set her in the tub. She was getting stiff so we tried to keep her in the same position we needed to put her back in the case come morning.

Jonah stuffed the empty ice bags into the bottom of the equipment case with the stained towel from home and he pulled it out of the bathroom and into the corner of the main room to keep it out of the way. I sat on the side of the tub and silently eyed the body of my wife that was lain in front of me. She seemed paler than when we left home and I sat there, afraid to touch her like she was stranger again.

“I’m going to grab some ice from the machine down the hall, okay?” Jonah said.

I glanced over at him and simply nodded before turning back to Avalon.

“Are you alright here?” he questioned.

I nodded again.

He hesitated in the doorway but left the room anyway.

I felt numb when I first found her and I felt numb staring at her now, only hours apart but at the same time it felt like months. My God; my heart hurt.

I got up from the side of the tub and went back into the main room to where my laptop case was left on one of the beds. My hoodie and jeans were still inside it and I pulled out my sweater to take back into the ensuite. I carefully slid Avalon’s arms in it and then tucked it over her head and down her torso before resting her back against the side of the porcelain tub. The light bloody handprint over the chest was easier to look at than the gash across her neck and the completely dark red colour of her clothes. She looked nicer in my clothes anyway.

I sat back on the side of the tub and let my eyes study her face again. She was staring at the wall with that eery blank expression and I carefully reached over to close her eyelids. She looked like she was sleeping. I liked to think that’s what she was doing anyway…seemed to feel a little easier that way.

I let out a soft breath and reached my hand down to brush my fingers over hers, feeling the coolness of her once warm skin. She was unfamiliar now but, at the same time, still nothing less than the supposed love of my life. I ran my thumb over her knuckles and across the diamond ring on her left hand.

The glass fell and shattered on the kitchen floor between us, silencing our screaming match except for our heavy breaths and Avalon’s sniffled tears.

I sighed at the realization that the whole confrontation went on too far and I tried to reach for her, but she pulled her hand back and moved away from me, “Aves.”

“Don’t.” she snapped.

“Avalon, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.” she retorted sharply, yet I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I’m sleeping in the studio tonight.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, glancing to the ground with a heavy heart, the pieces of broken glass shimmering in the kitchen light between us. She went to step around me but I instinctively reached out a hand to her to keep her back from accidently stepping on any broken glass, “Careful.”

“God, Daniel.” she huffed, “Please don’t.”

I didn’t make a move to stop her as she walked around me to storm across the living room and to the back door. She didn’t look back as she opened the sliding glass door and slipped out into the darkness that the falling night brought. I watched her disappear out of the house and into the backyard, her form fading from view like she had been a figment of my imagination the whole time, the cruelest most perfect kind of dream.

Oh, how I loved her. And I was so, so stupid.

I swallowed back my tears of realization as the pieces of the night came clearer to me. How I let her leave to the studio so easily, our last words spat in hatred, and how I could never truly apologize for not being the husband she wanted and deserved. I was too much of a coward and she was too good for me.

My tears came suddenly, breaking my breath in my chest with a shutter and I clenched my jaw to try and keep myself somewhat composed as the grief washed over me in heavy unbearable waves. I clutched her hand in mine and brought it up to my lips to press a soft kiss to her cold skin through my tears.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered shakily to her, only hoping somehow she could hear me. Wherever she was. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15 @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

No Strings Attached

You hated being alone.

Throughout all of your life the people you held dear to your heart had left you in the pursuit of their own goals and achievements. Born into a competitive and eccentric world where miscellaneous and bizarre adventures are just at the corner of the street took a toll in holding a stable relationship with just about anyone. Your own parents left you once you were at the age to be able to fend for yourself, moving through various countries and cities in search of new opportunities also meant that you couldn’t make lasting friends, and with no siblings to interact with, you were mostly just by yourself.

Now at the age of adulthood, you managed to establish a close circle of friends as well as a stable job in a comfortable city where the hustle and bustle of it all seemed never-ending but remained unchanging. After years of failing to build some sort of bond with anyone, you developed a sense of fear of abandonment. To make matters even worse, you craved an intimate connection with someone you could share with for the rest of your life.

In juxtaposition of the contrasting characters you possess you were then extremely susceptible to being taken advantage of. There were often too times where you couldn't help falling for their saccharine words, the way they approach you at the bar with their charming and rugged features while offering you only the sweetest drink. However that was all it was, just an illusion powdered up with dishonest sentimentality.

Your friends would often reprimand you for how easily you’re swayed by their empty promises, how quickly you fall heads over heels, how hastily you give yourself to them. It's no wonder that with your childlike innocence and overzealousness in finding love had gotten you nowhere but more pain and suffering. Founding out the hard way that they never considered a real relationship with you but would rather keep up pretences just to get a taste of what you felt like.

Once they’ve gotten what they desired it was just natural that they leave. You've lost count at how many nights you lost crying over dumb little boys until daybreak, staying in your room until you couldn’t tell the difference between the moon or the sun anymore. You were still young, naive and sensitive; your heart ached from only giving love and receiving nothing in return.

But was it really that wrong for you to want something you never had? You weren’t quite yet giving up but with the countless series of unfortunate experiences in dating, you harboured quite a stigma around fair looking guys with silver tongues. It was at that moment you met him.

Jispa.

Despite his boyish looks and charismatic smile that was just so contagious and bright, he was everything you despised. His coy conversations, his flirty demeanour and adventurous spirit told you all you needed to know should you return his stubborn feelings for you. Everything about him reminded you of your exes. Guys like Jispa didn’t have a penchant for caring much about relationships or basically anyone but themselves.

Nevertheless, he was relentless in his own pursuit, showing up wherever you went, showering you with unctuous platitudes and surprising you with small yet thoughtful gifts. It was by far the most anyone had ever done for you, recounting at how quickly they would retract once you reject their offer for a drink to save face.

But not Jispa, he was shameless with his emotions and careless in how he wields it. No matter how many times you’ve turned him away he always came running back optimistically with that gleam in his eyes, hoping that this time you would reciprocate.

You knew you couldn’t let him get too close to you, for if you did you’re afraid you might never recover if he left. People with an innate sense of adventure never tended to stay for too long, just like your parents which you learned well from early on.

However you couldn’t deny that you loved and craved his ardent attention on you

Throughout his incessant interest and amidst of your own solitude you ended up having quite a unique relationship with the said man, one with no strings attached.

Was it strange? Cruel? Ironic? All of your friends seemed to thought so, sleeping with a man who professed his fondness for you while you exploited his affections and used him liberally for your own personal gain. But wasn’t the reason he was after you the exact same thing all men wanted?

At first you thought what you did was completely harmless, in fact you decisively considered that this give and take contract would be beneficial for the both of you. One where you would partake in the enjoyment of each other’s pleasure while remaining completely detached in the emotional aspect. You figured he would tire in your company and move on to other things like so many had, and yet instead after a month of this particular exchange, you would find him still as smitten as the first day you met him.

You knew better than to let your feelings dictate your actions. He was here for a good time and so were you, treating each other more as a convenience rather than proper lovers.

Which is why you were here this evening, dressed at your best from the dress you picked out since last night to meet someone. Sitting alone at the designated café, you checked your phone to see that he was twenty minutes late.

Sure, things can happen during the road, it wasn’t that big of a deal. You made a note that the highways can get pretty congested during the evenings, one of the adverse effects of living in the city was that the traffic could become unbearable during the prime hours. These kinds of thoughts would’ve easily calmed you down but the way he hadn’t responded to your texts all day had your stomach turn into knots.

No way would your friend confidently introduce you to would turn out to be the type to do something like this. She said that he was exactly your type, someone who was also serious about relationships, someone kind and charitable, educated and progressive, someone who valued trust and teamwork. From the way she pitched this guy, he sounded like the one for you.

Quickly texting him another message, you decided to wait for ten more minutes.

Bouncing one of your legs up and down in anticipation, you watched the sky got darker and darker turning from bright orange to a deep purple haze as the minute passes while mindlessly sipping at your drink which became diluted from all the ice melting.

“Excuse me, are you using this chair?” A girl requested politely in a soft tone as if not to startle you. You looked up from the window at the sudden voice and gathered yourself quickly from your daze.

“Oh sorry, I’m waiting on someone.” Shooting her an apologetic smile she shyly apologised back and returned to her group of friends in search for another extra chair somewhere else. The girl may feel a bit self-conscious at your rejection but nothing could compare to how embarrassed you felt.

Getting up from your chair you don’t head for the exit but instead the counter, buying another glass of your favourite drink from this place. The barista took your order where you paid and returned back to your table, scrolling idly through your phone.

The ten minutes you told yourself quickly turned into forty minutes.

After today you would have to look for another establishment that made pastries and drinks as good as this one for you knew you could never show your face here again. The same group of teenage girls who jovially exchanged conversations had soon finished and left the place passing by you and though they didn’t say anything or particularly looked your way, you could feel shame starting to set in at the still clearly empty chair.

You felt as if all eyes were on you, wondering why you were here for so long, who you were waiting for. The workers in this café probably knew that you got stood up, they most likely even knew from way before. This was the third time this week something like this happened to you, actually you hadn’t had much luck in even meeting anyone, after days worth of promising talk you would suddenly never hear from them again.

Anger, resent, humiliation.

Those were the emotions that were raging inside you. You wished you hadn’t been so blinded by false hopes again, you wish you hadn’t spent so much time preparing yourself for the date, you wish you hadn’t listened to your friend, you wish you hadn’t gotten out of bed at all.

The city had now turned on all the lights as the midnight sky settled in for the night. Blinking back the tears you looked up at your contacts and texted a quick message wondering if they had any plans.

Instead of texting back the person called you immediately after the text was delivered.

“Hey, I got your message.” That’s right, Jispa always preferred calling over texting. “I’m at the gym, do you need something?”

Biting the inside of your cheek you held on to the little pride you have left and replied, “no, just wondering.” Deflating once you knew that he was doing something else.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

“No.” Jispa let out a breathy laughter through the phone which sounded so damn attractive that you scolded yourself for thinking so.

“I get it, you just miss me that much,” you could practically see his smug face and teasing grin from the sound of his voice. “Even after we did it so many times yesterday-”

“I’m hanging up,” you retorted back as he mirthfully laughed once more and begged you not to.

“Drop your pin for me babe, I’ll come get you right now.”

“But what about your training session?” you couldn’t help but ask, masking your contentment as soon as he made his mind up on skipping his night time workout routine.

“And pass up the chance to see you? I think you should know me better than that by now.” You could never get over how easily he throws you compliments, nevertheless you started to ease yourself the more you talked to him, your loneliness slowly creeping away from you and making you feel whole again.

You ended up giving him your location at the end as he arrived just minutes later on his infamous motorcycle. Showing you his dazzling smile before making a quick comment on how pretty you looked, he took of his jacket and handed it to you- well more like draped it over your shoulders.

“It’s cold,” Jispa nonchalantly said. You rolled your eyes at his cheesy attempt but thanked him regardless as you got on the back of the seat. You had your hands at his sides before he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you closer so that you hugged him tightly. Sighing in initial reluctance you couldn’t help but rest your weary head against his back as he drove through the streets, enjoying how comfortable this was.

Meanwhile Jispa couldn’t wipe the smile off his face- actually the moment you called he wasn’t able to contain his excitement. Hearing you reach out for him and implying all your needs to be with him made him drown out his thoughts to calm himself down before he goes all loony over you.

Though when he picked you up from the side of the café, he couldn’t help but let guilt eat away at his heart. To see you so heartbroken made his heart ache just as much. It made him wish that he hadn’t let the guy go so easily with a broken nose.

To be able to hold you, touch you and spend countless of passionate nights together is already a blessing, but it seemed like it was never enough for him. He always wanted more from you, whether it was time or sex he could never satiate his desire nor need for you.

Of course he couldn’t let you know he was behind all these unsuccessful dates for the past month, trading information from all the connection he could get to scare these losers one by one. He was the reason they refrained from ever seeing you again. Apparently the chance to go on a date with you or facing the brunt of his anger seemed a bit too risky for all of them to consider.

But he just knew that they wouldn’t treat you right, none of these guys could ever begin to fathom just how precious you are. They could never understand you like he did and love you just as much he does. Why you even bother trying to make it work is beyond him. In his eyes, he couldn’t see anyone but him worthy enough to take such a title.

Often he thinks he’s completely entitled of you, almost treating it as a birth right. To deny him of such privilege is like a crime to his rightful claim.

After turning off the engine, he lets you in all too happily while chivalrously opening up the door for you to enter first. You visited his place many times to become quite acquainted with yourself at the familiar surroundings, even going so far as to know the brand of toothpaste he uses.

Spearmint, a fairly popular brand.

Taking his jacket off and putting it to the side, you heard him close the door before enveloping his arms around you from behind. Gently kissing down the nape of your neck you felt a mix of feelings stirring down inside you. After a rough time back at the café you were elated that there was someone you could spend your time with, however you just weren’t up for some mindless sex at the moment.

Jispa made you feel so good about yourself even in the brevity of the exchange you could feel yourself finding solace in his embrace. During the height of the most passionate moment, you had never felt loved, so wanted by another, to be revered and worshiped that even the gods themselves would shake in envy. But that feeling never lasted, instead it wavered and passed quickly once you’re back at your own apartment the next morning; instead this time, it was really company that you wanted.

Before he could unzip your dress from the back, you turned around abruptly and flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Can we not do this right now? I changed my mind,” you asked, pulling his hands down from you. “I’m really sorry I called you for nothing.”

If he was disappointed Jispa didn’t show it on his face, rather he griped your hand that was subtly pushing him away and squeezed it affectionately. “Hey it’s ok, I don’t mind,” he quickly replied, brushing away some loose strands from your face as he ducked down enough to lower himself to your eye level. “We can always do something else…”

Your eyes flickered up towards him at his suggestion. Something else? Was that against the rules? At first you both came up with arrangements in order to make sure that this was kept strictly professional, but within days you’ve already broken so many rules. Initially you both promised to keep kissing out from your contract, yet Jispa just whispered, ‘sorry’ before pressing his lips against yours. It felt so good and intimate that you let him continue anyway.

Another rule you agreed was that you couldn’t spend the night over at each other’s place, but there were days where he would make valid arguments countering that policy saying that it was too late, too cold, too dangerous that he, in good conscious, could not let you go home.

Already pushing the boundaries of what’s meant to be simple, you’re afraid you’ll cross a line in which you could never turn back, the line you have is already this hazy and you don’t know when you’ll draw a clear one with him.

Jispa could feel your apprehension as a conflict of interest between your mind and your heart occurred inside your head. While rubbing soothing circles at the back of your hand, he couldn’t help but feel pitiful towards you. Before him, there were many others willing to use your naivety for their own benefit that he couldn’t blame you for keeping your guards up around him. Years of neglect and abuse had rendered you to be so sensitive when it comes to the subject of these matters, he couldn’t jeopardise his chance to prove himself to you.

“We could watch that new movie instead, I’ll even order takeout from that restaurant you like so much,” Jispa prompted cheerfully, amping up the suddenly sullen atmosphere as you laughed in disbelief at his idea.

“I thought you wouldn’t touch anything that goes against your dietary regime,” you remarked, knowing full well that this man cares too much about his health and fitness to even consider fast food as a proper meal.

“I’ll coax myself to eat anything just to have something nice with you,” he grimaced playfully at the thought. “So how about it? Totally platonic.”

“Platonic,” you repeated back after him with a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Sounds good to me.”

His eyes brightened once you agreed, leading you to the couch where he quickly put on the movie as you made yourself comfortable beside him.

Progress, that was all it was, a step by step process on breaking down the wall that’s created such distance between you two. But for now he couldn’t just freely tell you the truth on just how much he liked you, he wouldn’t want to scare you away. Truthfully he knew that threatening these guys to break your heart was eating away at your self-esteem, but if that’s what it takes to make you reach out to him he’d gladly put your feelings aside just this one time.

It seemed like there wasn’t much difference between him and all your past exes. It was a bitter irony, though he claimed that his intentions for you were nothing but pure or that he was the one that wasn’t going anywhere, at the end of the day he would still selfishly take advantage of you just like the others previously had.

#yandere hunter x hunter #jispa #jispa hxh #Hunter X Hunter #Hunter x Hunter 2011 #yandere jispa x reader #jispa x reader #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #reader insert #x reader #reader

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Baking’s Not As Simple As Chemistry

Pairing: Logicality

Word Count: 1,653

Summary: Logan tries to buy a cake for Patton’s birthday, but the bakery he always goes to is closed. He decides to bake it himself. Baking’s just a form of chemistry, right? How hard could it be? Logan POV

Masterlist

Logan was incredibly tired.

It was currently 8 PM on a Friday night and Logan wanted nothing more than to relax at home with his favorite blanket and a good documentary. He had to stay in late at work because his new coworker was incompetent and had no idea of how to do his job-

Logan shook his head, focusing on the road ahead of him. Being angry will get you nowhere, Patton had always said, try and channel it somewhere else.

Logan smiled as he thought about his boyfriend of almost a year. Patton was perfect in every way that Logan wasn’t; adorable, funny, emotionally and socially intelligent, you name it. They’d known each other since high school, having met through their mutual friends. Patton had latched onto him since day one and promised to never let go. And he never did. They were the best of friends and danced around their romantic feelings for years. It took forever for the two of them to confess, mainly because of Patton’s low self-esteem and Logan’s difficulty to express his emotions. But ten months ago they had confessed to each other and everything had become significantly better since.

Well, everything non-work related, Logan thought bitterly. Logan was a chemistry teacher at the local high school and Patton worked as a child therapist with his cousin Emile. It was stressful, mainly because they didn’t live together so they only saw each other on lunch breaks and weekends. But it was worth it, seeing the way Patton’s face lit up every time they saw each other.

Logan frowned as he heard his phone go off. It was the random chime that served to notify him of an event scheduled 12 hours from now. But he didn’t remember anything being scheduled for 8 AM tomorrow. Logan pulled into the nearest gas station and turned on his phone, reading his notification.

Saturday 8AM: Patton’s birthday

Logan groaned, facepalming. He’d been so busy this week that he’d completely forgotten about Patton’s birthday!

He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. Patton didn’t like large parties or anything, and he would probably just want to spend the day watching movies at Logan’s house. Which was fine; he just had to make sure the house was cleaned before Patton arrived tomorrow morning. His gift was already wrapped and hidden in the top of Logan’s closet, so all that was left was the cake-

The cake! Logan quickly unlocked his phone, searching up the bakery he always went to for Patton’s cake. They made a special handmade red velvet cake that Patton loved, but if Logan remembered correctly…

Logan groaned, staring dejectedly at the small screen. It closed 30 minutes ago and won’t be open again until Monday. What am I supposed to do now? He couldn’t have Patton show up tomorrow and not have a cake for him. And Patton didn’t like most store-bought cakes and cake-mixes, preferring to make cakes from scratch instead-

That’s it! He quickly started typing again, searching up red velvet cake recipes. I’ll just make Patton a cake from scratch! It says that it should take less than an hour, and the instructions look simple enough. Besides, baking is just another form of chemistry. And I’m a chemistry teacher for Newton’s sake! How difficult could it possibly be?

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Logan analyzed the carefully sorted ingredients in front of him. He’d bought all of the ingredients last night and decided to get a good night’s rest before getting up early the next morning to begin baking. It was 6:38 AM at the moment, and Patton wasn’t scheduled to come over until 8 AM. That should be enough time to bake the cake, tidy up the house, decorate the cake, and get dressed. He tugged his phone out of the apron he wore over his pajamas (another item he purchased last night, it was navy blue with the standard ‘Kiss the Cook’ written in white. He hoped that Patton liked it) and pulled up the recipe. He started by carefully measuring out each ingredient that he would need, putting the excess ingredients away. He then preheated the oven and greased the pan before turning to his bowl. The first step seemed simple enough: combine butter and sugar. The butter was still cold so it was difficult, but he eventually had an interesting butter-egg mixture. The second step was a bit trickier: add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. This wouldn’t be a difficult step for someone who’s cracked an egg before.

Logan, unfortunately, is not one of those people.

At first, he tried it the way he’d seen people on the baking channels that Patton watched do it; he held the egg in one hand and attempted to crack it open with the pressure from his thumb, hopefully splitting the shell open down the middle.

He ended up with a handful of crushed egg.

After he cleaned that up, he tried the method he remembered his mother doing when he was little: cracking the egg on the edge of the counter and sticking his thumb into the newly-made crack to split it open easier. He lightly tapped the egg against the counter and frowned when nothing happened. Perhaps I need to add more force? He tapped it harder against the counter, but it still didn’t crack. He growled with impatience and hit it harder against the counter.

Well great, he thought as he stared at the egg yolk all over the counter. I have performed extremely dangerous experiments with higher precision than most people could ever dream of, yet I am being outsmarted by a chicken egg.

Several tries later (and several minutes of picking eggshells out of the bowl) Logan was finally making decent progress. He carefully added the premeasured ingredients, making sure not to spill any as he worked. He carefully poured the final batter into a pan and stuck it in the oven. He then set a timer for 30 minutes and checked the time. 7:02 AM. That took much longer than expected.

He spent the next half hour picking up the house, trying to make everything perfect for his boyfriend. He piled all of his blankets and pillows onto his bed, set aside a stack of movies for them to watch, and cleaned up the dirty clothes and take-out containers that had built up over the week.

As soon as the timer went off Logan rushed to the kitchen, taking the cake out and putting it on an empty burner to cool. While it was cooling he turned to the pot on another burner, setting out to make some homemade icing. He added the ingredients and turned on the stove, stirring consistently as instructed. It was supposed to gain a pudding-like consistency, but sadly it stayed more like soup.

Maybe it’ll change consistency once I add the rest of the ingredients. He turned off the heat and poured it into a metal bowl, adding the rest of the ingredients as instructed. He was technically supposed to use a stand mixer but he didn’t have one, so Logan did his best to hand stir it. He frowned when the consistency didn’t change much.

Knock knock knock

Logan gasped and looked up at the clock. 8:04 AM. Have I really spent so much time baking? There was another set of knocking and Logan rushed to answer the door. Patton stood there shocked, and it took Logan a moment to realize why. His hair was probably a mess, and he was still wearing his pajamas and apron (which were now covered in baking ingredients). “Oh.”

Patton stared for another moment before bursting into giggles. Logan chuckled along with him, blushing in embarrassment. It took Patton several moments to calm down, clutching his stomach as he shook with silent giggles. Once he finally caught his breath Patton gestured to the apron. “Is that permission?”

Logan looked down at the stained ‘Kiss the Cook’ and nodded. He sighed happily as Patton’s lips pressed against his. He melted into the kiss, biting back a whine when Patton pulled away. He awkwardly adjusted his glasses while he cleared his throat. “Uhm, happy birthday Patton.”

Patton smiled brightly, clapping his hands together. “Thanks, Lo!” He eyes Logan’s clothes again, undisguised mirth in his eyes. “So, what’s with the apron?”

Logan blushed, silently grabbing Patton’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. He gestured to the confectionaries before putting his head in his hands. Patton scooped some icing with his finger, watching curiously as it dripped off his finger, appearing more like milk than icing. He looked over at the cake and winced. The middle had caved in, making a little red crater. Patton stuck a knife into the middle and showed Logan the batter covered knife. "You're supposed to check to make sure that the cake's cooked all the way through before taking it out of the oven." He gestured to the cake. "So, what's with the baking?"

Logan hung his head low, unable to meet Patton's gaze. "I forgot to buy you the red velvet cake that I get every year at the bakery, so I tried to make you one myself.” Everything was silent for several moments, and every second flooded Logan with even more doubt and shame, the pressure in his chest expanding like a balloon until-

He nearly flinched when a cool hand touched his cheek. He looked up to see Patton smiling softly. “Oh Sweety, you didn’t have to do all that. Just knowing that you care is enough for me.” He kissed Logan on the lips, and Logan felt all of his worries melt away. Eventually Patton pulled away and tugged on Logan’s hand. “Why don’t we go watch some movies, and maybe later I’ll teach you how to bake a cake, alright?”

Logan smiled, following him to the bedroom.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

#sanders sides fic #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders

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lochrannn · 3 years

Text

AU_gust: Maybe I’m yours

Read on AO3

prompt no 25: Time Travel

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Lila Pitts

“How short notice can you take time off?” Lila asks, leaning back but still holding on to his t-shirt at his sides.

Diego has just walked in through the door and got an armful of over-excited girlfriend and a sloppy kiss with slightly too much teeth. That never bodes well but he also can never bring himself to not wrap his arms around Lila and kiss her right back.

“Uhm, not sure… Why?” he asks, looking down into her brightly shining eyes and at the grin that splits her face with delight.

God, he loves her, but he’s also never not just a little wary of what she’ll come up with next.

“I want to take a road trip with you! I bought a car and everything!” Lila says, almost vibrating with excitement and pulling him back against herself with no trouble, despite their difference in size.

“But…” Diego breathes out a little dazed from her hungry kiss, “I have a car?”

“Sure, sure,” Lila pats him reassuringly on the chest, “but we’ll sell this one when we get to LA and then we fly back. I want to take a road trip, not be stuck in a car for three weeks. Allison says we can stay with her for a couple of nights before heading back!” Then she lets go of him and wanders off towards the kitchen.

“Hold on, Allison?” Diego calls out after her, before stopping and looking off into space for a second trying to catch up. Then he decides to literally catch up and follows Lila into the kitchen.

“You’ve already booked everything, haven’t you?” Diego says, pointing an accusatory finger at her. But he can’t help the amused smirk that makes its way onto his face when Lila gives him an extremely unconvincing, innocent look and says softly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“When are we leaving?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Day after tomorrow.”

It’s his first real holiday in years.

Or ever, really.

That’s not quite true. Eudora had convinced him to go on a weekend getaway to the coast when their relationship had already been on the rocks for a while. He had been an insufferably moody asshole in his early twenties, only weeks away from getting kicked out of the police academy, and in hindsight, Eudora had tried too hard to be mature and a grown-up, and had put up with so much more of his shit than she should have, trying to make things work.

From his perspective now, as he is in a relationship that, despite the slightly unconventional beginnings, weirdly works, he has finally learned to appreciate that it simply wasn’t enough that he and Eudora had been in love. All things considered they’d just been too mismatched.

Nevertheless, it had been a really lovely holiday and had probably kept them together a couple of months longer than they otherwise would have managed.

“What are you thinking about?” Lila asks and Diego turns around to look at her in the driver’s seat.

She’s already turning to look back out at the road, the sun coming in at a low angle, making her skin shimmer almost golden in the late afternoon light.

For a second it takes his breath away and Lila turns around to look at him again quizzically.

Diego reaches out to take one of her hands off the steering wheel - there hasn’t been a bend in the road in about an hour, he’s sure she’ll be fine with just the one, even if, for a former secret assassin she’s an oddly rule abiding driver - and presses her knuckles against his lips.

“Just that I’m fucking crazy to let you drag me across the country like this!” he says with a smirk.

Lila pulls her hand away without looking, reaches behind his head and rakes her nails across the shorn hair at the back of his neck and says, “You fucking love it though!”

And Diego can’t argue with that.

On day five they reach higher altitudes in the West. The sky is an impressively striking shade of blue and Diego could not be more content at the wheel.

They left out early from their hotel and when they stopped at a drugstore in the small town to get some terrible coffee, Lila bought bright purple nail polish that she was going to put on in the car.

Only, she’s decided that the results are too messy while driving, but she is apparently also bored, so right now Lila’s holding on to his right hand on her thigh tightly and delicately applying the color on to his nails.

Diego occasionally looks over at her and can’t stop the fond smile that tugs at his lips when he spots the small wrinkle above her nose that tells him she’s concentrating hard.

Then she looks up at him and asks, “What?” and Diego is just about to answer when she shrieks, “Oh my god, look!” and Diego whips his head around, realizing he hasn’t really been concentrating on the road for a few moments, expecting to be heading straight into the back of some huge 18 wheeler truck, but instead the road ahead is completely empty and he is still going straight in his lane.

“Jesus! What the fuck?” Diego breathes out and glances over at Lila out of the corner of his eye, not actually turning away from the road again. At least she has the decency to look a little guilty.

“Uhm, there was a sign for a gold rush museum town and I maybe got a bit too excited.” Lila replies with an unmistakable pout in her voice.

Diego huffs out a breath, trying to steady his racing heart and then asks as evenly as he can manage, “Next exit or the one after that?”

They soon arrive at the collection of wood houses, front porches arranged along a straight dusty street. Apparently the town was built as a set for a western in the fifties and some enterprising businessman bought the whole lot to turn them into a theme park. At least that’s what the brochure they got at the entrance says.

Beyond the fact that at least the facades of the structures look relatively convincing, the only part of the museum town that could be considered in any way even related to a theme park is the gunslingers show that is put on at the top of every hour.

And as that is the main attraction, it seems most people don’t even bother with the museum town itself, so Lila and Diego wander around it, trying to get the creepy animatronics to work and then hide away behind the fake saloon from the few other people who are milling about, to make out like horny teenagers.

At high noon they are sitting together at the top of the bleachers on the outskirts of the museum town where they are apparently about to be treated to a wild and exciting shootout and some of the world's most renowned trick shots. Again, according to the brochure.

The shootout is staged with blanks and Diego gets a little bored but perks up again once the artistic shooting starts. Lila has pressed herself into his side with one elbow resting on his thigh and Diego’s put his arm along the back of the bench to give her more room. She’s mostly concentrating on the fluorescent blue slushie she insisted on buying before the show.

Diego is watching the trick shooters intently and is pretty impressed at their aim. He could easily copy any one of their tricks using his powers, now that he’s worked out how to manipulate the trajectory of bullets as well as knives, but he has to admit, that he probably couldn’t do it without them, even though he had always been an excellent shot.

The star of the show is announced and after he takes his dramatic shots, baffled chatter starts up amongst the crowd because he missed every single one.

Diego frowns and then realizes that Lila has stopped slurping on her drink, going suspiciously quiet, so he moves his mouth close to her ear and whispers, “Stop that! You’re gonna get someone hurt!” but he can’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

Lila leans back and away from him and says with feigned innocence, dark brown eyes big as saucers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” before wrapping her lips around her straw and sucking up more of the unnaturally blue slushed ice.

Diego is momentarily distracted by the sight, then he reaches for the plastic cup with one hand, pulling it away from Lila, puts his other hand to the back of her neck and kisses her gently. She tastes of fake raspberry.

Lila practically melts against him, grabbing his t-shirt tightly with both hands and her eyes flutter shut.

There’s an almost painful sensation in his chest, a physical ache that wants him to never let go of her, but Diego nevertheless pulls back ever so slightly and he breathes against her lips, “Marry me.”

He didn’t plan on asking her like this. Heck, he didn’t really plan on asking her at all. Though they have been talking about it, they so far haven’t come to a clear decision, but there is so much certainty in him now that the last thing he would want to do is take back his words.

He hopes Lila knows it's alright if she says no, though.

For another beat Diego thinks she might instead simply pretend like she didn’t hear him but then her hands tighten in his t-shirt even more and she presses not only her lips but her whole body against him so fiercely that he doesn’t have to wait for her to pull away to know what her answer will be.

Nevertheless, it feels like she sets his heart on fire when she mouths along his jaw, bites his earlobe and then whispers Okay into his skin.

#au_gust_2021 #fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #lochrannn lxd au challenge

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vostara · 4 years

Text

Hypnophobia — 01

eins — your hotel hall won’t be so vacant

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “I’ve fallen in love with you, but you have too many secrets.”

word count: 1.8k+

title inspiration: kill4me - marilyn manson

Before we begin, I wanted to give a special shoutout to @the-darklings for granting me permission to post and write a story inspired by their own work, Children of Ares. Just so you know, Hypnophobia is a completely separate entity and does not exist in nor have any sort of canon relation to COA. I also want to give a quick shoutout to my dear friend, Tati, who has agreed to proofread my drafts for spelling and grammar errors.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

01 | 02

A December night in Chicago is frigid. The pavement is littered with clusters of salt, melting the layers of ice that had hoped to make a home on the sidewalks and roads. This is a salt ruins leather boots that owners have neglected to protect. A salt that obliterates a pair of cheap shoes before winter concludes, before spring peaks her head between the gray clouds. When the snow falls, it blankets the drab, cold cement with an even colder white blanket. The snow buries the cars on the streets, the entrances to apartment complexes, and the sparse shrubbery meant to break the monotony. It buries the wooden platforms of the train stations that have yet to receive an overdue upgrade to concrete. Stations that are located in areas that the city does not care to fix.

Even with all of the cold, the city is still full of life. It is crowded with civilians hustling their way onto the trains, hoping to feel its warmth before their gloved hands are completely numb. People go about their day, rushing to work in the mornings and eager to come home in the evenings. The college students crack open bottles of booze, as soon as the sun sets on Thursdays. And they spend the rest of the weekend stumbling into bars and flirting with anyone willing to glance at them for more than a mere millisecond. The lonely singles are desperate to find someone who can warm their beds. Someone who can distract them for a few hours. Someone who gets them so high that they forget about the Christmas misery and forced cheer permeating the air.

And on this particular night, Beatrix stands on the balcony of a hotel room. Dressed in a black coat, much too large for her frame, and a pair of red stilettos, she examines the city streets below with her chestnut brown eyes. Despite the late hour, there are still groups of people stumbling through the streets and shouting their conversations for all to hear. Just as her eyes settle on a group of drunk women slipping on the ice, a pair of muscular, tanned arms wrap around her waist.

“Come back to bed, bella,” the man whispers into her ear. “It feels lonely without you.”

Beatrix smiles and turns around. She places a hand on the back of his neck and then pulls him down for a quick kiss. “What are you doing out here?” She asks.

Luca is, by far, the most attractive man she has had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. His towering height and dimpled smile, mixed with the perfectly disheveled coffee-colored curls sitting on top of his head, is a combination that could make anyone weak to the knees.

Realizing that the man is dressed only in a pair of boxers and an unbuttoned black shirt, Beatrix pulls him towards her. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

Luca chuckles. “Unfortunately, it appears that a beautiful woman has stolen my coat. Perhaps if she comes back inside, we can both be spared from the cold.”

“Perhaps,” she replies.

The couple leave the balcony, escaping from the ice and the wind chill. Beatrix slips out of her heels and tosses the coat onto an armchair in the corner of the room. She hops back onto the bed, while her lover rummages around in his duffle bag.

“I have a surprise for you,” Luca says.

“Oh?”

He climbs onto the bed next to her and holds out a thin black box. “A gift, to celebrate the occasion.”

Beatrix plucks the box out of his hands. “And what is the occasion?”

“A reunion.”

After throwing another glance and smile at Luca, she focuses her attention to the gift. She pries it open and her eyes focus on a large pear-shaped ruby pendant, resting on a delicate gold chain. “It looks expensive.”

Luca nuzzles his face into the side of her neck. His nose brushes against her dangling gold earrings, a gift from their third liaison, as he moves to place an open-mouth kiss below her ear. “Only the best for my girl.”

Beatrix pulls the necklace out of the box. “And did you get this before or after your business meeting?” She turns to face Luca and quirks an eyebrow.

He pauses. “After.”

“Must have been one hell of a business deal. If it makes you splurge on such a gift for your holiday fling.”

Luca frowns. “Is that what you think you are?”

Beatrix hesitates with her response, shifting her gaze away from his eyes.

The man places his right hand on the side of her neck and pulls her head to lay against his chest. It’s a gesture that feels almost too gentle for somebody whose hands are covered in tattoos of skulls and daggers.

“Tell me what’s wrong, bella.”

“I just,” she sighs. “I want to know who you are, who you really are. What you do. Where the money comes from.” She pulls away from him and starts to cry.

How much more of my time are you going to waste?

“I-I’ve fallen in love with you.” Beatrix tries to wipe the tears off her face, but just ends up smearing the liquid all over her cheeks. “But you have too many secrets.”

He’s too loyal.

Luca reaches out towards her. He pulls her hands away from her face and wipes the tears himself.

“I don’t care if you’re a criminal. I’ll love you no matter what, but I need to know the truth.”

The man sighs. “It’s best if you don’t know anything about my business affairs.”

There’s a deadline.

Beatrix peaks up at Luca through her lashes. His jaw is clenched and there’s a tinge of regret painted in his chocolate eyes.

I know.

“I’ve seen your gun. And your knife. Is your boss, like, a drug dealer?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I think I should go.” Beatrix slides off the bed. She heads for her purse that had been carelessly tossed near the bathroom door.

Luca rushes after her. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads.

Can you turn him?

Beatrix whips around and shoves Luca away from her. “Then tell me who you work for.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Luca pauses. “I won’t.”

Doubtful.

“I’m leaving.” Beatrix responds. She grabs her purse and unbuckles the clasp.

“I know you’re upset, but I think we can work through this—”

Beatrix reaches inside her purse. When her fingertips brush against the object she’s looking for, she curls her fingers firmly around the metallic handle.

“—I just can’t share this aspect of my life with you. Not yet.”

Terminate him.

Dropping her purse, Beatrix lunges at Luca.

The man stumbles and falls backwards onto the bed. Beatrix jumps on top of him, straddling his waist. Not quite fully alert, he fails to notice when the woman raises the object in her hand. By the time he realizes what is about to happen, it’s too late to stop the dagger plunging into his heart.

Beatrix pulls the blade out of his chest and then slices open his neck. As she sits on his hips, she watches as the pristine white sheets are tainted by a deep crimson liquid. She reaches for his right hand and slips a ring off of his finger. It’s a gold ring. One that identifies him as a notable member of the Camorra.

A few moments later, Beatrix finally climbs off of him. She heads toward the armchair, grabbing her purse along the way. Settling into the seat, she pulls a phone out of her purse and calls one of the three saved contacts.

The line rings twice before the call is answered.

“Hey, you busy?” Beatrix speaks. “My boyfriend hooked me up with some amazing wine, but I accidentally spilled some of it on my white sheets. Would you mind popping by? You’re a genius at fixing this stuff. Plus, I still have plenty of wine to share.”

~ ~ ~

“At least you weren’t lying about the bottle of wine this time.” A woman, Izzy, remarks before taking a sip from her wine glass. Beatrix had met her a couple of years ago, when they were introduced through a mutual friend. Though she had been drawn to the dark-skinned woman’s sharp cheekbones and playful banter, she was more interested in Izzy’s talent for making evidence disappear.

Beatrix hums and takes a sip from her own glass. She shifts her position in the armchair, leaning back and crossing her legs.

“When were you gonna tell me that you were back in town?”

“It’s temporary.”

“Uh huh,” Izzy gestures to the corpse on the bed. “And what is this?”

“The boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Izzy nods. “Is the boyfriend’s departure from the land of the living due to a lovers’ spat? Or are you working?”

Beatrix reveals the faintest hint of a smile, before taking another sip of wine.

Izzy rolls her eyes and approaches the corpse. She leans down for a closer inspection, examining the man’s injuries and the blood pattern on the sheets. “Damn, he was cute. What a shame.” She frowns. “Didn’t put up much of a fight though, did he? I don’t see any defensive wounds. No early signs of bruising.”

A long pause follows the woman’s observations.

“Is he,” Izzy glances over at Beatrix, “Camorra?”

“You’re good with faces. I don’t think you really need to ask, do you?”

Izzy laughs before finishing off her glass of wine. She reaches for the half-empty bottle and pours herself another serving. “You? You were fucking a Camorra man? I thought you despised that organization.”

“A job’s a job, right?”

“You’re joking.”

Beatrix shakes her head.

Izzy frowns. “Someone hired you to hit the Camorra and you took it?”

The pale woman doesn’t respond.

“Jesus,” Izzy approaches her friend and leans against the wall beside her. “Bee, what kind of bullshit have you been roped into now?”

Beatrix downs the rest of wine. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Is the job done?” Izzy’s eyes shift back to Luca. “Was he your target? Some dude that they’ll replace before the sun sets tomorrow?”

“You’re not getting paid enough for that information.”

Izzy pouts.

“I just need you to clean up this mess.” Beatrix stands up and sets down her glass on a nearby table.

Izzy sighs and places her glass next to Beatrix’s. She shrugs off her coat, folds it up neatly, and places it on the table as well. Then she reaches into an oversized bag and pulls out a pair of black latex gloves. Slipping them onto her hands, she rolls back her shoulders and stretches her neck to relieve a minor kink in it. “And here I was hoping to waste some company dime by gossiping on the clock.”

A/N: I’m so sorry that Ares couldn’t make an appearance in this chapter, but she will be showing up in the next chapter, I promise!

If you are intrigued by what you’ve seen, I would really appreciate it if you could reblog this chapter. I literally have 3 followers right now (and one of those followers is me on my main blog), so I would very grateful for any help that gives me more exposure than what I would be able to reach on my own.

This is the first fic I’ve written in like four years, but I’m really excited to explore Beatrix and her position in the John Wick universe. I am hoping to post a new chapter bi-weekly (on Saturdays).

#film: john wick #john wick #john wick fic #ares john wick #ares fic #ares x reader #ares x original character #ares x original female character #ruby rose #ruby rose fic #v.writing #fic: hypnophobia #series: she drowns in liquid gold

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despairforme · 3 years

Note

" i hope i'm not intruding. i just wanted to bring over these fresh fruits and vegetables i mentioned over our call! " carrying the heavy crate into his kitchen with ease, melody grins, excited to teach him how to make more dishes and put that cookbook to more use! and also to give nnoitra some of the fruits and vegetables she'd grown herself so that he could have some to snack on when he felt like it! " if you're busy or don't feel up to cooking now, i can come back another time! " the little fae knows they've been spending more time together recently, hoping to make up for all that lost time, but she can take a hint when someone just doesn't feel up to anything. " i really do hate to impose. "

Summer was coming to an end, but insisted on going out with a bang. The temperatures were holding steady, as they had for two months now, and Nnoitra had overheard several people moan about how it was a shame that the summer holidays was over. The nice weather didn’t fool him. He knew that soon it would be September, which would end as quickly as ice cubes melting in a glass of room temperature soda. Then it would be October, and it would be Autumn. Still, could be worse. These past few weeks Nnoitra had finally been lifted up and out of his depressive state. Summer always had that effect on him, but this year it had taken longer than usual. He was thankful to have a better mindset and more energy. It was strange to think that a couple of weeks ago, he had been so low he had stopped checking twice before crossing the road. It seemed like a lot of time had passed, and he couldn’t even bring forth those downcast feelings if he tried to. Not that he tried very hard.

It was a nice afternoon, and Nnoitra was home alone. Grimmjow had to work early today, because a shipment of beer arrived at the bar, and someone had to be there to help out. Nnoitra had offered to lend a hand ( literally, since Grimmjow only had one ), but as always he was hesitant to indicate that he suspected his boyfriend would have difficulties performing his job. He never liked treating him as if he was handicapped. Both out of respect and--- Guilt. In any case - he was home, alone. He would’ve gone out, but Melody had called him not too long ago, and the conversation had ended with her saying she’d come over and bring some fruits and vegetables. As if Nnoitra would ever turn down the offer for food. From their talk, Nnoitra had understood that she had grown the fruits and vegetables herself. It made him envious to think that she had a garden large enough for something like that. Space to grow so much food that she could give some away. If he had had a garden, he doubted he would’ve been growing food. He wouldn’t know where to start with that. The thought of having his own lawn though, and maybe a tree.. That was very appealing to him. Then he could lay in the grass as much as he wanted and breathe in that lovely scent. He sighed with a look around the flat. He was standing in the kitchen, from where he had a good view over to the living room, and the large windows that occupied the whole of the outer wall. Yeah, their apartment was nice and all, and he was certainly attached to it, considering all the memories. But maybe, just maybe he’d want to move at some point. He said ‘ he ‘, because he was selfish. He hadn’t talked to Grimmjow about it at all.

A knock on the door, and he went to open. He knew it was Melody, since he had been expecting her. Normally when someone knocked on the door he’d feel uneasy. Rather pathetic, to be nervous, even in his own home. The door was opened, and yeah - it was Melody. She stood there, bright as ever, her small frame more or less hidden by a large crate she was carrying. It looked heavy. Nnoitra was more interested in seeing what kind of fruit and vegetables it contained, instead of offering to help her carry it. He automatically stepped to the side, letting her into the apartment. The two of them walked into the kitchen, and she put the crate down. Nnoitra inspected it eagerly, already picking helping himself to an apple. He took a bite. It was sweet, but a little sour too. Grimmjow might enjoy that, he thought.

❝ ‘Daz ‘a lot’a food. ❞ He commented with his mouth full, briefly taking his eye off the crate to look at her. As usual, she had that kind radiance about her. Her features soft and caring, even in his presence. Melody was unconditionally kind to him, and he wondered if she knew how much he appreciated it. Probably not.

She repeated the offer she had made over the phone, that they should cook together. Even now she was being considerate. Nnoitra wondered if the ‘ if you don’t feel up to cooking now ‘ was a reference to how he had been feeling up until recently. While he hadn’t said anything about being depressed as fuck, she had clearly picked up on his shitty mood. He thought he looked better now, but that might just be his imagination, brought on by the fact that he was feeling better. He shook his head. ❝ Nah, nah, yer all good. Let’s do this shit. ❞ He opened one of the overhead cupboards, almost too high up for her to reach, and pulled out the cookbook she had given him. The front page had a stain of tomato sauce. He rubbed at it with his finger, but without success. The finger was brought to his mouth. Mh. Tasty. The book was placed down on the counter.

❝ What are we cookin’? Some vegetarian? ❞ He gestured to the crate, a hint of a grin showing itself on his thin lips. A loud meow interrupted whatever it was Melody was going to reply, and Tulip, Grimmjow’s white Persian cat jumped up on the counter, smelling the book in a hopeful manner. ❝ Oi! ❞ Nnoitra poked her to get her to jump down again. ❝ Ya stay away, yeah? If I spill somethin’ on yer white fur I’m fuckin’ dead. ❞ Nnoitra was not concerned about Melody noticing that there were two cats living in his apartment ( which, for all that she knew, he lived in alone ). Him and Grimmjow had a similar shoe size ( Grimmjow’s feet were rather large, while Nnoitra’s very small ), so the extra two sets of shoes at the door could be assumed to be his. If she asked about the cats, he would simply say that he was looking after them for a friend. Which wouldn’t be... A complete lie.

#flcwerborne #[ thank you so much for the ask frankie!! ]#[ i love their interactions as you know t-t ]#[ they're such good friends ]#[ time for melody to meet the cats too!! ]#[ this was the first thing i wrote for WEEKS so it was super nice to get back into writing ]#despair for me. ╱ in character.#talking shit. ╱ answers.#burn the city. ╱ main verse.

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allie1804-fan · 3 years

Text

The Middle of the Road (Chapter 16)

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 , 9, 10, 11 , 12, 13 14 , 15

Warnings: None

September 2024 – Toronto Emily and Keanu flopped down on the bed in their room at the apartment they were renting in Toronto for the week of The Toronto International Film Festival. They had just arrived from LA and were travel weary. He had just had his 60th birthday and would be receiving a Tribute award at the festival, a great honour for any film maker but an especially treasured one for Keanu who had grown up in the city. He remembered when the festival used to take place in his neighbourhood of Yorkville in the late 70s so the whole event was very close to his heart.

The whole family had decamped from LA including their Nanny Maria which would enable them to attend the evening events as well as do some promotion. Keanu had done voice work in a film being premiered there which had a U certificate so they would all attend the afternoon screening. They were taking a bit of a risk with Hannah but Emily or the nanny would be able to take her or Johnny out if either of them got unsettled.

After they had rested up a bit, they all went out to a local Italian restaurant around the corner from the apartment and enjoyed a simple relatively quick meal before getting the babies back home to bed. The next morning found Keanu and Emily enjoying some free time looking around his old haunts – he’d shown her his home in Yorkville, his elementary school, ice hockey stadium, the Leah Poslun Theatre and the location of his first kiss!

“Right there?”? Emily was pointing with an aghast expression on her face at a dingy alley behind a bike rack at the back of an old Walgreens store.

“Yup – I know. I’ve got a bit classier in my old age I hope you agree.”

“And what was her name?”

“Angela”

“Now THAT is a 70s name if ever I heard one. I guess at least your name is just totally unique and not linked to an era like some”

“She was sweet – but not long lasting!” Anyway, I think that is the complete high, and low, lights for you. We better get back and get some lunch before this afternoon’s shenanigans” He was referring to the premiere of his film which was an afternoon affair so kids could attend. Some local children would attend as well as press and the stars and their families. Johnny and Hannah would be there – with the exit strategy of mum or nanny if it was too much. They had watched films at home and had quite good attention spans but Hannah had only been in a movie theatre once and so was a bit if an unknown quantity behaviour wise.

It was also to be their first red carpet as a family. They had kept the children well shielded so far but, accepting that complete privacy wasn’t realistic, they had decided to attend this premiere all together. They all dressed in smart casual clothes rather than the suits and ballgown style of Oscars and that was needed given they would have the kids next to them snacking on ice cream! The press and fans were enthralled with the kids, both dark haired and with big brown eyes strongly favouring Keanu but with the delicacy of Emily’s features. After letting her walk on wobbly legs for a little while, Keanu scooped Hannah up and carried her while Emily walked with Jonathan and Marie brought the buggy and a change bag just in case. Hannah loved waving at everyone and fans called her name which made her laugh. Johnny joined in with waving too, sensing that this was something special but not really at all clear what. It was going to be a while before they understood that their Dad wasn’t just special to them!

The kids enjoyed the film and made it through the whole hour and half without a melt down to everyone’s relief.

That evening Emily and Keanu appeared on a panel about a project they were working on together. There were inevitable questions about how husband and wife could work together which they fended off deftly - working together was after-all how they met and it felt easy compared to parenting and they were glad to keep the topic work focussed. In the next couple of days they each took part in other promo for their work and had a meal out, just the two of them. There they talked about the award show that would be the following night.

“You nervous?” Emily asked as she sipped her coffee.

“Am I ever!” He groaned. “All that intention is intense – I’m used to parts of it – the red carpet, the photos, being filmed in the audience, even being on stage handing out awards or receiving a less significant gong but such focus, and a speech – phew, it’s crazy”

“It’s what you deserve honey, you know that inside don’t you”

He shook his head,

“It’s an honour, such an honour but, no, I don’t know it – it just feels surreal”

“Well just try to enjoy it if you can, hun – OK?, Want to run through the speech back at the apartment?”

“Sure, that would be great to have a writer’s input”

The award day came and they passed as much of it as they could focussing on the kids, taking them to one of the lakeside beaches for playtime and a picnic but eventually time came for the ‘dressing up game’ as Keanu called it. Both of them would spend a few hours being “made beautiful” for the cameras with stylists primping and polishing their hair, clothes and make up to within an inch of their lives. They left the children with Maria and they would tune in later to see Mommy and Daddy on the TV walking the red carpet.

Emily was wearing a stunning sleeveless, full length taffeta gown in red and her birthday necklace to match her ruby engagement ring and Keanu was in the tux he’d worn to the 2020 Oscars. Emily’s palms were sweaty even before they left to go to the theatre. She’d attended public occasions before where there were paparazzi but only one awards show about 4 years ago so she was nervous of the attention, especially as the news of their marriage was still quite fresh.

As they climbed out of the car, Keanu whispered in her ear “Just imagine everyone naked” before they started to make their way up the red carpet, making her giggle and relax just a little.

“I feel like the wives in Apollo 13, if they ask me anything. I’ll just say “I’m proud, happy and thrilled”

“Are you likening me getting an award to going to the moon or a life-threatening mission?!”

“the former for you and maybe the latter for me!”

At first she held Keanu’s arm in a death grip but gradually she relaxed especially as she saw the smiling faces in the crowd and she saw Keanu relax too, signing photos, DVDs and books and posing for photos. Several fans encouraged her to pose alongside him, surprising her. It seemed some people were happy to see him happy with his marriage and kids and thus welcomed her with open arms.

There were a few reporters on the red carpet who stopped them for a few words. Keanu made her laugh, though she tried to hold it in, when he responded to the question of how he was feeling to be receiving the Tribute Award.

“Well I’m proud, happy and thrilled” he said, giving Emily a wink which made the laughter bubble to the surface. They moved on and at last made it into the auditorium and were shown to their seats.

There were several other awards before his but at last it was time for his big moment.

The presentation started with a show reel with clips from his most famous movies as well as some of his lesser known early ones which made him blush. He leaned over and whispered to Emily

“At least they’re not showing the Coke and cornflakes ads!”

After the reel, there were some video clips from some of his directors and co-stars praising – his work, his character and his work ethic. There was Chad Stahelski, Sandy Bullock, Carrie-Ann Moss and Lilly Wachowski. Then it was time for the award itself which Lana Wachowski presented. As he walked up to the stage, the whole auditorium stood, clapping and cheering. He was right, Emily thought, this was really overwhelming! She dabbed a tear away as he took his place at the podium and took a moment to let the applause fade.

“Firstly let me say a huge thank you for this great, great honour - to receive this in the city where I spent my formative years is really very special so thank you.”

More applause erupted then quickly subsided allowing him to continue.

“I owe this award to many other people - first and foremost, I’d like to pay tribute to my mom for believing in me all those years ago when I asked her one day, would it be ok if I was an actor and she simply said ‘whatever you want son’.

And thanks must also go of course to the teachers and directors at the schools where I did plays and at the Leah Posluns Theatre where I really began to learn my craft- thank you for lighting the fire.

Looking back, the reel you showed just now only served to remind me how much I love movies. And a key reason over the years for that love and indeed for much of my success has been the joy of collaboration when making them. Collaboration with many wonderful directors, actors, cinematographers, stunt coordinators, make-up artists, caterers, runners to name but a few is what I thrive on. And they have all made me look good. And I know sometimes I’ve made my fellow actors look good too by how bad I was! Special thanks to Winona and Gary in that regard!

And I can’t forget the writers, for one thing my wife would never forgive me if I didn’t give them a mention.”

Keanu looked over and caught Emily’s eye as she sat in the front row beaning with pride.

“Writers have gifted me some amazing, memorable characters, some of them coming back time and again like Ted, Neo and John Wick. And I think special thanks are due for all the Johns, Johnny’s and Jacks and the quarterback punks that have been a recurring theme for me and such fun to play.

So I love movies and I love the opportunity they give me to tell stories.

But this year, as I hit a big milestone birthday, I am in a new phase in my life and I’m planning on being focussed less on the stories in films and more on my own story. Over the years, my fellow actors and the crews have been like family to me, a band of brothers and sisters if you will. But 5 years ago I met and fell in love with a wonderful woman and she became my family. Then 2 years ago we became parents - and now there are 4 of us. And this year I also became a husband - in all these things as you can probably tell I was a late starter!

So whilst I’m not retiring, going forward I can’t and I don’t want to be the man who is all work and no play. I want to be with my beautiful wife and my kids as they grow and play my part in guiding them in their lives, in their story.

And hopefully, I’ll bring the riches of that experience of being a parent and a husband to my future roles.

Thank you”

There was rapturous applause at this end to his speech and Emily found herself crying once again at his very public commitment to a more balanced life for them all going forward.

Keanu took his leave, heading back stage where there would be a few interviews to do before he could re-join Emily and head onto the after-party. There was a brief break in proceedings and Emily made her way back stage to meet up with him.

Keanu was just taking his leave from one of the news teams when he glimpsed Emily weaving her way between the throngs of stage hands, actors and publicists.

He headed in her direction and indicated a small alcove to the side to aim for. She reached it first and waited for him to join her, his progress being slowed by people stopping to congratulate him on his award and speech. When he finally got there, she threw he arms around his neck.

“That was, just, just”

“Wow have I actually rendered you speechless?” he laughed.

“You didn’t share THAT part of the speech!”

“You mean the bit about marrying a wonderful woman and sharing my story with her?”

“yes that part, you sneaky devil, you made me cry”

“Happy tears I hope?”

“Yes!” she smiled planting a kiss on his smiling lips.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu #keanu reeves #keanu reeves ofc

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sticks-and-stone · 3 years

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Potts Preserve

September 21, 2019 - September 22, 2019

This was my first time camping since February when I went with my roommate and the dog we had at the time. Before that it was just camping with my father as a kid or drunk with my friends in high school (trips I almost don’t remember at all). So this trip was a pretty big deal with very few expectations or preparedness. I wanted to find a hobby that would not cost much, but would require significant planning and time out of my life before, during, and after. So camping seemed like a good fit. I decided to start planning monthly trips. So this was the first one!

When I first decided to go on this trip, I had next to no supplies. I wanted to go with whatever I had or could improvise as a way to get started on a list of things I wanted to add to my kit. What better way to figure out what I needed than to realize it in the moment!

This trip was only going to be a quick overnight so that in the event that we realized we had too little, we wouldn’t be stuck out there for days. I found a site that was owned by the Southwest Florida Water Management District and was free to use with a reservation. So I booked the site and called up an old friend, Jenna. Jenna and I did a lot of drunk camping together in high school and she had a foundation of camping with her own father as a child, so I knew she would be right for the job. She and I had also gone a long period of time without hanging out, so it was a good opportunity for us to catch up!

When we began planning this trip, I had a tent, and some other small stuff, but not a whole lot of anything else. We borrowed a cooler from my roommate, a chair from my parents, and just bought beer on our way out to the campsite.

I wanted to get a good night’s sleep before getting up midmorning on Saturday to meet Jenna and go, but I ended up staying up late. Like a child before her first trip to Disney World, I was restless, excited, and hyperactive. When I woke up (too early) the next day, all that excitement was squashed when I realized I had started my period. I was worried this would happen, but I was hoping my Day One would be on Sunday, but alas, I was going to have to go camping on my period. And not just any camping trip, a camping trip that I wasn’t totally sure I was prepared for. As it turned out, the portable toilets were close and clean enough for me. YAY!

Jenna showed up exactly on time - I really have to give her props for that. She helped me load up the car and then we took off! We stopped at my parents' house (they were out of town) for a little firewood and one of their camping chairs (Jenna did not have one) and also at a gas station for beer and snacks. Then we were on the road for real; it was about midday.

The drive down was quicker and easier than we expected. After not seeing each other for a few years, we had PLENTY to talk about and catch up on. She told me about all of her drama, I told her about all of mine. It was lovely. We arrived at the campground without getting lost or even a little turned around at all. There were about 4 other groups there already set up and as it was late afternoon on a Saturday, everyone seemed to be pretty settled in.

We found our spot. Unlike the other spots that people had set up around us, we did not have a fire pit, a picnic table, or a grill. Everyone else seemed to have all three. We didn’t mind and we found a nice flat place to lay our tent out. We found out later that what we chose was not a spot at all and that we were not even supposed to be back there.

We got the tent set up and I began to work on the air pump that I had borrowed from my roommate. I needed to strip the wire so that I could split it and plug it into the car battery that dad gave me to run the fan. We had no other form of electricity and no other way to pump the air mattresses up. I broke it. I ended up strippping the wires too much and the whole contraption became non-functional. We were only there for one night, though, and what’s sleeping on the ground other than the authenticity of a camping trip?

From the time of arrival until just before dusk (about 3 hours) we thought it would be nice to open up the tent to allow the breeze and light to enter it. Well, neither did and what did enter our tent was about 10,000 love bugs. So I went in there with our one bottle of bug spray and closed myself in. I held my breath and sprayed the shit out of the aerosol canister until I was sure everyone was dead and I could not hold my breath any longer.

To give the homemade bug bomb a chance to work, we decided to explore the area and go on a hike. We made it about a mile away from camp and it started raining. The trail seemed to come to a dead end so we just turned around and went back. I have a terrible sense of direction and would have honestly gotten completely lost if it hadn’t been for Jenna to guide us.

We got back to camp after our hike and I checked on our tent - no more living love bugs, but piles of dead ones on the ground. It was gross. I got Jenna and the broom and we got rid of as many of the dead bodies as we could. We would shake the rest out the next day when we packed up to leave.

We sat around the fire and played the guitar for a bit when suddenly I realized that we were going to get bored. We had been drinking beer since we arrived and we'd been going through it pretty fast. I never really thought about how to pass the time.

I went walking around looking for firewood. I had nothing to chop it with or nothing to cut the large limbs, but I could use leverage and my body weight for most of the work I needed to do.

The entire time we were there, I made sure to keep a list of all the things I thought about having that we didn’t have. The first being string, the next, an air pump that plugged into the car. Then a sponge. I started to realize that we had enough to survive in the woods, but we did not have enough to THRIVE. This trip was rough supplies-wise, but we made do. Thankfully we brought enough beer to ward off TOO much boredom.

As the sun went down and the alcohol made its way further into our bloodstreams, we decided we were hungry and wanted to eat the food I had brought for us. What I had brought was really simple. It was two pre-made PB&J sandwiches, pre-made mac and cheese, and PB&J crackers.

Dinner was a disaster. The sandwiches I made got soggy from the ice melting and the container failing to do its job in the cooler. The mac and cheese was attempted cold, but then it was decided that we would put it in the pot in the fire and see if we could heat it up. That actually worked out pretty well - but was all we had. Luckily, Jenna came armed with hummus and crackers and had bought some beef jerky at the gas station.

We went to sleep soon after dinner and made sure we got nice and drunk first because we had forgotten that we were sleeping on the ground that night. After all the alcohol, I was ready to crash. My body temp was high though so I put on the fan and slept on top of my blankets.

About halfway through the night I was woken up by the feeling of my bones turning to ice and cracking. I was violently shivering in my bed and wasn’t sure my toes were still attached to my body. I had to pee too. So I stood up clumsily in our little tent and put on my shoes. I looked over and Jenna was fast asleep but now wearing more clothes than she went to bed in - I guess she woke up the same way I did.

I walked to the bathroom and peed. I took comfort in the smelly plastic bin as it seemed to have held on to the day’s heat and trapped it inside. I was suddenly disgusted with myself for enjoying a port a potty, so I walked back to the tent.

When I got inside I turned off the fan. I looked through my suitcase - nothing but more short sleeved shirts and shorts. I took my shoes off but left my socks on and covered them with a second pair. I took the folded king-sized sheet off of my deflated twin size mattress and used that as extra cover in addition to the small throw blanket I had. I was able to make it a few more hours like that until the urge to pee woke me up again.

This time, it seemed warmer outside the tent so I took my double pair of socks off and slipped on flip flops. Jenna was still asleep so I stumbled out of the tent toward the bathroom. I handled my business and came back to the tent - this time, no lingering in the port-a-potty for warmth.

As I approached the site, I saw Jenna moving around outside the tent with her flashlight. I assumed she was doing the same thing I was - taking a midnight pee - but as I got closer I could see that she was in fact setting up the fire. As I got close enough I asked if she was trying to warm up so she could sleep, and she looked at me confused and said “No, this is today’s fire, it’s 6:30”. I was shocked and confused, but proud that we had made it to morning.

We had no breakfast. So we drank more beer. We were out of water, so I decided it was time to leave. We packed up quickly and cleaned the tent and tarps and then we were on our way out.

As we tried to exit the gate, our code wouldn’t work and we had to wait for a forest cop to show up and let us out. We probably waited an hour or so, but when he finally did arrive, he was super nice and as it turns out, from Jacksonville! We chatted with him for a while until a car pulled up behind us. We were finally on our way home!

The ride home was a bit different than the ride there. We double and triple checked my list and talked about all of the things we HAD to get for next time, which things I already had at home, and which things needed to be purchased. Overall the trip was fine, we decided, but we could do WAY better.

Observations:

SO MANY LOVE BUGS - they literally covered everything

We needed to pack the car more strategically - we had to pull everything out to get to the tent and table that we needed to set up first

We needed rope/string

More stakes for the tarp and the tent would not be a bad idea

A table or some platform to unpack on would be handy

Our air pump broke - we needed one that plugged into the car.

It's super important to keep the tent closed completely.

We needed a shovel to dig out the fire pit

We needed more lights around the site - the fire was not enough

Citronella candles would not be a bad idea either

Should have brought extra bug spray

We didn’t have much to do beyond sitting and drinking beer. We vowed to bring at least some books and crafts for next time. I want to learn to whittle.

I needed to stay more organized with the supplies as we unpacked. Things got messy.

Get Outside,

Stone.

#camping #outdoors #tent camping #tent #adventure #Potts Preserve #SWFWMD #Florida

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fairyshuuu · 5 years

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wild valley pt4 | chanyeol

.summary. Park Chanyeol; sweat rolling down a naked back mixed with motor oil, you; white sugar sticking to your gums at sunset– ice cream flavored. Drugs, booze, money. He’s everything you’re not, the question is – for how long? .word count. 6.5k .mechanic!au | gang!au | car shop!au. .pairing. chanyeol x reader .genre. angst, romance

.warnings. mature language, suggestions of sex, blood, violence, fighting ♫ let me set the mood ♫

teaser. part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6. part 7. (m) part 8. (m)

With a loud thud, the door is shoved open. You whimper when his lips connect to yours again, hands running up and down your sides and over the exposed skin of your thighs. The kiss is much like a fight in it’s intensity, pushing and pulling with the waves of heat that wash over you. You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, and open his mouth with yours. Wet behind the hardness of teeth. Tongues meet roughly, as he walks you further into the room, gripping your hips tight. The door is kicked shut behind the two of you, before he moves his soft lips to your jaw. You moan, and cock your head back to give him access.

Deep breaths brush over your skin, cooling you from the burning sensation of the party downstairs. His hands slide around to grab your ass and lift you to his body, not letting his lips leave your skin. Trembling, in anticipation and the knowledge what is to come next, unforgiving. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you to the bed, heart hammering against your rib cage. The alcohol traveling through your veins only makes everything more intense, his tongue and teeth on your sensitive neck heavenly. “Please,” you beg, peeking your tongue out to wet your lips.

Getting to the bed, he eagerly lays you down on the bed and crawls on top of you, strong thighs both sides of yours. The weight of his body pins you onto the bed. You think you could resemble one of those butterflies on a board, ready to be cherished in his gaze. It’s strange, because you’ve never much wanted to be cherished by anyone but yourself. In the darkness of the room, in the shrouding of the moonlight against the blue curtain his gaze holds a velveteen.

When you let go of your tight grip on his hair and shoulders, he looks up at you with a slight smile. “Please what,” Baron mumbles, before connecting his lips back to your slim neck to litter it with purple spots. As he bites down, you hiss, and arch your body to brush his. You ache to bring him closer, yet don’t dare to pull too hard at the same time. His one hand is next to your body to keep himself from crushing you, the other gently sliding your top upwards.

“Please, have me already,” you whimper, staring him down as he straightens up on top of you. Baron’s eyes are glazed over with darkness, lips bright red and cheeks flushed. His hair is messy from where your hands tangled into it, and you have to stop and stare for a second, much like he is. He takes a deep breath and slides you a bit further into the bed, his hands squeezing your thighs eagerly, sending you up into an fire of eager sparks.

He smiles though, and licks his lips. “I really want to take you out,” he admits, fingers traveling the expanse of your skin, “I think this might be sending the wrong image. I mean, I really like you and-” Before you can let all this terrify you, you grab him by his collar and pull him back to you, his body back to yours where it seems to belong. With his face only an inch away from yours, you reach up to hold his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I don’t-” you kiss him again when he so earnestly looks at you, fingers digging into your skin and creating red marks, “I can’t date you.” Baron pauses, his chest meeting yours every time he breathes. When he opens his mouth to answer, your lips brush his. “I’m not a dating kind of girl,” you just say, “I’m not good at it.” The frown that falls over his face isn’t one of offence, merely confusion— well placed. Your hands skim up his sides to grab a steady hold on his shoulders, nails digging in there to steady yourself. “Just- please, please have me.”

The man on top of you hesitates to look into your eyes, while your body heats up under his, strong shapes against your softer ones. When he comes back to kiss you, it’s him who grunts now, aching with the mirage of your touches. “Are you sure?” he asks, closing his eyes as his hands slide up under your shirt. When you reach up, you move his hands higher to feel you through your bra. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat this close. Your legs twitch when they wrap around him and pull him into you. “Y/N, are you sure?” he repeats when you don’t answer.

Something about his tone is more than questioning, not like a scold but just as impactful. You wonder for a second why you feel this way, why you feel the need to keep him in limbo far between being yours and not at all. But realistically— you know where a fear stems and it has blossomed into a tree stronger than your determination itself. So when you nod, you mean it, far more than you wish you did. It’s terrifying, lying here with someone who so openly admits his care for you and while you can’t mirror it, you still feel the warmth of his words. So you nod.

“Yes.” You run your hand up to tangle it in the hair at the back of his head. His other hand creeps up the inside of your thigh to slide your skirt up, and you whimper. “I can’t be your girlfriend,” you confirm, truthful more than you like to be, “but I’ll be yours in any other way that you want to have me. Love isn’t for me, baby.” He chuckles softly against your skin as he presses kisses to your collarbone, before shaking his head.

“You’re really not making this easy on me, shortie.” He presses another kiss to your lips, before sighing.

You melt at the gesture, practically seeing the fight on his features and you can see him losing— no matter how good he is, temptation is always hard to shake. “What’s fun about having it easy, though?” you say, smiling wide.

“Guess you’re right,” he laughs at your grin, before pulling your top over your head as you lift your back for him. His one hand slips under your body to open your bra, as he bites down on his bottom lip. “But let me treat you though. That’s the least you can do after turning me down so harshly.” Your bra is tossed to the floor, lights glistening in his eyes as he looks at you in what you hope is a look of awe.

You chuckle, and pull him even closer with your legs, flush against your body. “You’re literally in between my legs right now, Baron.”

“I know, but I wanted to date you properly.”

“No can do.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips when he smiles, and start pulling his shirt up over his broad back. “But I promise that I’ll treat you double next time though.”

It’s cold, and he’s drunk. No— shitfaced, this early morning, if he’s being honest he’s completely gone. It’s not easy to get this far, his body more than used to the alcohol and yet he sways uncontrollably as he walks. Chanyeol in his shitfaced state, thought it a good idea to go find his car further down the road. His friends in their shitfaced state thought it a good idea to let him. It’s not that far a walk from the garage, where everyone of Exo Customs decided to meet after a high school reunion earlier in the day, so normally he’d be fine.

But today has been hard, and so now that he’s emptied his bottle as he walks he starts to feel too much. Though his body is burning, his fingertips are cold, just like his mood. Reunions are never much fun, but having to explain that he’s not dating anyone anymore over and over drilled his attitude through the floor. Chanyeol stares at the dark brown bottle in his hand as he walks, before throwing it against the wall across the street with a loud ‘Fuck!’ As much as he’s over the pain, he’s not yet over the memories, and today was littered with them.

The glass shatters fall onto the floor, but Chanyeol keeps walking, suddenly more than ready to get home and shut the door behind him. Every single person seemed to ask about his girlfriend, even people who he hasn’t seen in almost eight years and who barely knew him in high school. He doesn’t really care how they found out about it, rumors have always traveled faster than anyone can try and stop them. But if they’re curious enough to find out that he was dating, Park Chanyeol— one of the womanizers in school, can’t they figure out themselves that they broke up long ago.

Well- broke up sounds a lot better than how it really happened. He wishes they just would have broken up, then maybe he wouldn’t run from his problems like they are infectious diseases. Maybe he’d still be happy. As he walks, the streets sway under his feet. He makes it to the street behind the garage without much problems, but stops to stare as two figures move across the street. They are next to his car, his baby, and so a deep frown makes it’s way onto his face. One of the men notices him as he walks closer, eyes widening slightly.

“What the fuck are you doing to my car?” the tallest mumbles, words messy. Chanyeol stands close, looking down on the two men but just barely. Both are very tall as well. The brunet who turned to him first holds up his hands as a defense, and shrugs.

“We just saw it is all. It’s a nice model.” He grabs his friends’ shoulder to pull him away from the big, black vehicle as if to prove their innocence, but Chanyeol scowls at them both.

“You just happened to be standing next to my car at 4 in the morning for fun.” Right as he wants to tell them both to fuck off before things get out of hand, he catches eye with the second figure. The brown haired guy isn’t a familiar face, of that much he is sure even in his hazy state. But the blond behind him definitely is. As he racks his brain for the solution, the other seems to notice his intense stare. His eyes widen in response.

Chanyeol takes a step closer and grabs hold of his arm before he can speak, something a sober mind would realize isn’t a good idea but he’s too mad at the invasion of his space to care. The same surprised look that came over his face when he was discovered the first time. “You’re the guy messing with our fucking garage the other day,” he spits, shoving the blond away from his car harshly. Yoonoh. “You know, I was gonna let it be, let you be—” he points at the younger, before grabbing at his arm, “but no one messes with my fucking car.”

“Get your hands off me,” the other rasps, glaring at him like he has nothing to be sorry for. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The brunet seems to give his friend a questioning glance, but doesn’t cut into conversation and so Chanyeol grabs the blond by the collar. “You don’t wanna fight me. Bet you’re always staring fights but not finishing them.” Yoonoh’s hands are on his shoulders, triumphant smile on his face and though Chanyeol’s outnumbered, he knows he can take them both.

“You bet wrong,” Chanyeol mumbles, before swinging his arm towards the guy’s face. It connects just as soon as he’s being pulled away from the younger. A fist slams into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. The brown haired man comes to stand in front of his friend, but he doesn’t seem ready to give up the fight. “Two against one?” Chanyeol licks his lip as he takes a wobbly step back, blinking twice.

Yoonoh shrugs. “You started it.” He charges towards him. Chanyeol catches his fist mid-swing and lays another punch onto the other’s face, full force. The other’s free hand clashes with his jaw, sending a dizziness through him that he can’t shake. Instead he just blindly punches again, connecting once in his face and once on his neck, sending him back. The brunet grabs hold of Chanyeol’s shoulder to punch him in the stomach again and in the face, before he can push him off. Both men stumble for a second, before the brunet shakes his head and pulls his friend up.

“Yoonoh, it’s not worth it. Come on.” The other, though the flames don’t leave his eyes, spits on the floor before he is pulled away by his friend down the street. As soon as they’re gone, Chanyeol sighs deeply and blinks his eyes to get rid of the black dots in his vision. He leans onto the hood of his car in an attempt to shake the wavy nature of the world around him, but it doesn’t let up. Maybe getting socked in the face after drinking your body mass in alcohol isn’t the best thing to do. He spits out some of the irony taste onto the sidewalk, and shakes his head.

You’re awfully busy this afternoon, compared to the days before where you had to hope that one person would stop by. You don’t blame people though, it’s boiling out and though you’d love to spend the day at the beach with your friends, responsibility calls. You seem to have racked up some steady customers by now, people who return every day to try out all the new flavors. Today’s masterpiece is raspberry-cheesecake, and it’s probably the best ice-cream flavor you’ve ever made. You’re almost out. You glance over at the new batch your making once more, making sure it doesn’t freeze entirely.

“Hey, sugar!” a voice calls from behind. You smile before you turn, recognizing the lithe voice from a mile away. As you turn, sure enough, Byun stands with a shit-eating grin in front of the display, already waving his ten dollar bills around like a fan against the heat. He’s become one of your returning customers, for whatever reason you most definitely don’t want to know. He’s annoyingly charming, and funny on top of that, always ready to make you laugh even if it’s at his own expense.

“I need five cups with two scoops of that,” he points at the newest flavour, “the cheesecake. Gonna treat the poor suckers in the garage for once, they all look like they’re five seconds away from melting.” He sends you a smile to match your own, as you nod.

“It’s good, right? I’ve had to make a whole new batch because people like it so much. Yuna almost lost her shit when I called her earlier.” You scoop the last of the metal tin into a cup and then pull it out of the display to put it with the other dishes, heading for the full tin.

“Wait, you know how to swear?” the man asks, raising his both eyebrows high as he grins, only laughing at the glare you send him from across the room. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about the dark haired man in front of you, is that he’s thrives when teasing others. He’s been by the shop so many times now that you’ve gotten used to it, and just continue your task of scooping the ice cream into cups. When you don’t respond, Baekhyun looks over your shoulder into the small store. “Where is your boyfriend, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble with a smile, not looking up from your work, “where is yours?” When you flash him a glance from under your lashes, you can see that he’s holding in his laugh, and shakes his head. You finish his order off by putting plastic lids on every cup, and putting them into a bag along with the small spoons. “There, that’s $14,96 please.” Byun is the only name he’s introduced himself as, and though you doubt that is his real name, you don’t have much of a choice. He pays and leaves quickly after that, leaving you to your thoughts.

Though you’ve had many familiar faces come by, there’s one person that hasn’t showed himself since last week, and though you hate to admit it you’ve grown slightly worried. It was all fun and games, but what if Chanyeol really didn’t want his name to be known? Maybe you were too invasive, trying to figure it out on your own, and now you won’t get to see him again. You sigh, and rest your chin in your hand on top of the glass display.

Almost comical with the timing, his familiar shape comes walking from around the corner. His overalls are once again tied around his waist, top half only covered by a black shirt with the sleeves cut off. Chanyeol’s tattoos are in a perfect contrast with the warmth of his skin, and the brightness of his icy hair. When he looks up to meet your eyes, he scowls, something you’ve gotten so used to by now that it only makes you smile. But as you stare at him moving closer, you hesitate.

On his cheekbone and along his eye socket bloom flowers of bright, bruised colors. They are purple, red and yellow and look really painful. Chanyeol looks away before you can say anything, and pulls open the door next to your own. “Chanyeol, wait!” you shout, startling him and yourself at the urgency with which the words fly out.

You drop your spoon into the bucket and rush over to the door, yanking it open into the tiny hall and over to the front door. When you open it, the heat of the afternoon hits your face, making it feel flushed. Chanyeol is still standing with his arm holding open the door, luckily not making you chase him. For the first time since you got here, you can really look up at him from a close.

The first thing you notice is that he definitely smells like metal, and gasoline. Second, the small freckles on his nose bridge from the sun. You swallow as he stares down at you, as if unbelieving that you’re really standing next to him. Maybe you’re imagining it, but his frown seems to lighten, if just slightly. You’re very similarly affected, looking at him from this close up. When it stays quiet though, you remember that you were the one who called out to him in the first place.

“Are you-” you brush your hands on your cherry skirt, and then bring them up without thinking, “are you okay?” Your fingertips find his cheek, one hand holding onto his jaw as the other brushes over the bright colors that blossom underneath his eye. Your hands must be really cold, because his skin feels like fire against yours. When you press onto the bruise slightly, Chanyeol hisses. “Does it hurt a lot?” you question again, not minding his silence much. He’s never been much of a talker around you, you don’t expect it to change.

You’ll still express your worry though. “What the hell happened? Did you get jumped too?” He blinks for a second, before wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing yours down from his skin. You flush slightly when he takes a deep breath, looking away when he lets go of you. You take a step back and bite your bottom lip, suddenly aware that must have made him feel uncomfortable. Your heart seems to bang in your throat when you look up at him again.

“Too?” Chanyeol mumbles, eyebrows pulling together in question.

You nod, and cross your arms over your chest, looking at the street instead of at him. “Well, yeah. One of my friends got jumped by someone a couple of days ago. I guess they were trying to rob him or something, but he doesn’t want to talk about it.” You then look at him again, meeting his dark eyes without flinching. Chanyeol’s hand, where it was hanging next to his thigh before, is stuffed into the large pocket of his overalls as he listens. “Did that person try to rob you too?”

When you don’t continue, Chanyeol seems to freeze as you look at him. Hardening up like wax, despite the sun on his shoulders. You can see it in his eyes, the closing up that happens so fast that you can barely believe that he wasn’t always like this. He gives the tiniest shake of his head, though you’re not sure in response to your question on to you being here in general. Instead, you take the cold towel from your shoulder and bring it up to his face again. “Here, put this against the bruising. Keeping it cold will help with-”

Before you can finish, Chanyeol pushes your hand down with more strength, and takes a step away. The door he had been holding open all this time finally falls closed with a loud rattling noise, making you jump slightly. “Will you stop doing that?” Chanyeol grunts, glaring down at you. “Why the fuck do you keep butting in on my problems?” Your chest closes up at his sudden hostility, making you blink up at him with a tremble of your lips. You bite your bottom one harder to keep from embarrassing yourself.

“I was just trying to help,” you breathe. Chanyeol runs his free hand through his white hair, and scoffs.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking help, okay.” He pulls up his nose and shakes his head, before stepping closer to the door. You take two steps back in surprise. “I’m done being polite. Just leave me the fuck alone and piss off.” Before you can apologize, or say anything else, he yanks open the door to the diner and disappears into it again— much like before. You might have followed him, if it wasn’t for the fact that he slams the door so hard that it rings in your ears.

With another step back, you blink away the wetness that suddenly starts collecting in your eyes, and take a deep breath. You bunch up the towel in your hand and walk back over to your door, suddenly feeling the soft color of the wood too bright for the occasion. You push it open with a slight tremble in your hands, and walk inside. Message received loud and clear.

“Here you go, you big troublemaker,” a voice sighs, laughter woven into it at the situation. Two cold hands cup his face, pressing an ice pack to his temple. She comes to sit on the edge of the bed, thigh pressing up against his own as she brushes some of his dark hair out of the way and out of his eyes. When he looks at her, she shakes her head, her own dark hair falling down from where she tried to tuck it away with a pin. “Did you at least beat the shit out of him?” Her voice is slightly raspy.

“You bet I did,” Chanyeol mumbles, grinning through his busted lip with pride. It’s true, the other’s face was a lot more messed up than his is right now. “No one talks shit about my girl without paying the price for it.” Price being a broken nose, in this case. He’s still slightly dizzy, but more so tired. He’s glad that she’s here to help, that isn’t always the case and taking care of yourself when you’ve been hit in the head isn’t always the easiest.

“I wish I could have been there,” she nods, “seen it. You always look so fucking hot when you get mad.” Her hands tangle in his hair while she talks, leaning down to press her dark lips against his. Chanyeol hisses at the feeling, suddenly aware of the split in his lip again. Dara laughs, and presses a little peck before straightening up. “I’ll have to leave before tonight, I have to catch the last train.”

“Do you have to go?” he asks, pouting slightly, unable to help it. “I’ll take you for a joyride around town, we can go watch the sunset at the beach.”

She huffs, and presses the ice pack back to his forehead with a grin. “You mean we can fuck at sunset at the beach.” Chanyeol smiles wide as he regards her, and lifts his hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb there with care. “I can’t, Yeol, I need this job to work out. We need this. One of us has to make money for the future.”

“I do make money. The garage is cleaned up now, and we already have some solid customers who come by for checkups.” Chanyeol blinks up at her frown, hating the way it looks on her. He wishes he could take it away, all the worries he know she has about this, all of it.

“Yeah, but I mean— secure types of money. We can’t buy a house off of Baekhyun’s drug money.” She sighs, and looks across the room for something, whatever it may be. “I’ll be back before you know it, handsome. In the meantime, you can get better and not get into fights?” Chanyeol smiles, watching as she crawls over his body to settle her thighs either side of his.

Baekhyun hates it when they get into things on the couch. “I thought you liked me getting into fights?” he grins, pulling her closer by her waist.

Though she looks away, he can see the agreement in her smirk. “I like watching you fight.” Her hands press up on his chest, grounding him in the moment. Being with Dara is always like this. It’s hard, real and painful, in all the ways that life is and sometimes Chanyeol thinks they’ll make it together. He hopes they do. “There’s no use getting into fights when I’m not there to enjoy it,” she continues, giving him a look which makes her dark eyes look dangerous. “Besides, you only enjoy getting into them when I’m cheering for you.”

“That’s true,” he nods, pulling her even closer and nuzzling his face in her neck, as she giggles. “I’ll miss you,” he breathes. He hates the times where she leaves, feeling it push on his lungs like gravity has flipped upside down, though he knows she needs this. Needs the space, the room to breathe. Dara is a fire, and you can’t smother her or she’ll die down.

She pushes up from him and gives him a frown, though amusement plays at her lips. “Don’t get all clingy on me, Park Chanyeol.” She removes her body from his and fixes her hair back into the clip, before tutting her lips. She’s so beautiful, is all he can think, her thundery shape moving through his house like a whirlwind. “Do you have a smoke?”

He nods. “In my jacket.”

“Good.” When she catches him staring, she smiles, and walks over to press the ice pack back to his bruises. She pops one of his cigarettes in her mouth and lights it, before taking a few steps back, and pointing at the cold thing pushed to his head. “Hold that. Keeping it cold will help with your stupidity.”

Chanyeol snorts, watching her back towards the door with a swing in her hips. “Romantic.”

Today is not a good day. It hasn’t been a good day since he woke up, and though many hours have passed, the heavy unsettling in his stomach is yet to leave. The warm smoke in his lungs are in harsh contrast with the freezing bite of the night air, swirling between the noise. Loud growls of cars zooming past, and people cheering along the side of the road. It’s always slightly surprising how many people turn up for races of theirs, both as a crowd and as a racer, knowing the amounts of money it takes to get a car in top condition.

Of course, there’s a lot of money to be won, so he guesses it makes up. Chanyeol leans against the hood of his car, and takes a calming breath of the familiar nicotine to hopefully settle the unexplained nerves. There’s something in the air, a tangible warning siren that crawls over his skin, and no matter how hard he tries to ignore it— it stays very much present. He’s always been good at pretending though, pretending that he’s fine even when he isn’t and so the people around him don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about, Chanyeol confirms to himself.

He breathes out deeply, and watches as the cloud slips past his lips to dissolve into the obsidian of the night. The cheers get deafening when Kai’s signature, black Chevy Impala rounds the corner with a good amount of lead on the next. With a loud roar of his engine, he passes the mark first and skits to a halt, throwing open the door to yell victoriously along with the crowd. The sound is one of pure extacy, morphing Kai into the King of the streets. He looks alive, is all Chanyeol can think, as he watches his friend throw up his fists.

With a shrug, the tallest tosses his butt to the floor and walks between the mess of people to get to his friend. The crowd opens up slightly as he passes through, eyes following his shape as he moves. It’s nothing special anymore, he thinks, though it’ll never totally feel comfortable. Despite his loud hair color and tall statue, Chanyeol isn’t one easily seen, and he likes it that way. The shadows will always be his home. When he finally makes it over to the rest of the gang who are congratulating Jongin, he halts next to Suho. The dark haired man has a slight smile on his lips as he turns to him.

As Baekhyun laughs loudly at something Jongdae says, Suho crosses his arms over is chest with a slight nod. He glances up at the taller, and hums. “Did you watch the race?” His voice is steady when he talks, less excitable than Chanyeol remembers it was when meeting him, and though it could have been because of the aging— something tells him that it was more than that. His entire demeanor is tougher, more resistant than it used to be, another sign of the things they’ve been through together.

“Not that I really had to, he wins even when I’m not watching,” Chanyeol sighs, rolling his ring back and forth on his finger. All his friends are amazing chauffeurs, when it comes to speed that is. He is too, though he’s not a racer. With a deep sigh, he looks up from his feet to meet the older’s eyes. “But yes, I was watching. Why?” His voice drops at the end of his sentence. Suho isn’t straightforward in his wording at the best of times, definitely not with him and so the question is a necessary check-up.

“No reason,” Junmyeon just says, a slight smirk crawling onto his lips as he takes a step closer to the rest, hands sliding in his pockets. When he continues, the strange feeling peeks it’s nasty head up to squeeze his stomach together. “Someone else was watching too, you know, though they’ve never showed their faces here before. She could probably use a tour.” Chanyeol glares down at the brunet as he talks, though Junmyeon doesn’t take his eyes off of the celebrating Kai. The words that play in his mind don’t need to be spoken. Junmyeon laughs. “Ice cream girl is here, Yeol. I heard about her from Baekhyun.”

Of course. Chanyeol rolls his eyes and shoots some lightning at the oblivious man a few feet further down, before lifting his nose. “What makes you think I give a shit?” He almost spits the words, unable to help the irritation that fights it’s way to crawl up into his throat. More and more, people seem to piss him off, and it seems to have started when you came to town in your stupid bright dress and your even brighter smile. You’re like a rash that he’s unable to get rid off at this point, wishing he never noticed you in the first place. Now you show up everywhere, even at his races. His world, his life. Places where you don’t belong.

“Well,” Junmyeon nods, “you say you don’t but we’ve known you for a while now. You look bothered, at the very least. Why?” So much for pretending. Chanyeol clenches his jaw as he thinks, not willing to give in but unable to help the self-reflection. Because of course, Junmyeon is right. He is bothered, while very little has so much as shaken him in the last five years, and here you are— delivering him an earthquake. Chanyeol crosses his arms over his wide chest, and scoffs.

“Because you all won’t leave me alone about her, for one.” First Jongdae and Baekhyun, then Kyungsoo and Kai and now even their leader is putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. Even if it’s true, it feels invasive, the place one Chanyeol isn’t ready to open up about. Not now, and maybe even not in the future. Isn’t it for him to decide? He sighs, thinking about you for what feels a moment too long. “I don’t know what her fucking deal is, okay? All I know is that she annoys the life out of me.”

“Seems like you like her,” Junmyeon says, straightforward as much as they come for once.

“Don’t be fucking dumb,” the light-haired growls, just about done with the talk. In fact, Jongin’s on the liquor already, which means it’s about time to go. Sehun and Jongdae drive first, with the King to close the streets and so the end is here. “Well, game’s over,” he mumbles, already taking a step away. “I’m going.” Junmyeon stares him down for a long while without saying anything, before shaking his head as Chanyeol turns around without anything more. As he turns, he scans the crowd for the best exit, and as he does he sees a familiar face show up like a mirage.

Your hair is wilder than he’s ever seen it, your clothes dark just like your eyes are, traveling the length of the crowd. Chanyeol’s heart drops as he looks at you, wanting to run and stare at the same time, but instead he’s rooted to the spot. You look like her. Maybe it’s the light, or the confidence on your lips as you grab the arm of the man next to you— but you look just like her. A reflection of his life four years ago, back to break the part of him that she missed and for once, you might have cracked him right open.

In that one second, you might have broken down every wall he’s ever built, without knowing it. In a flash it disappears, as you look away and your lips curl back up into sunshine that lights up the entire parking lot. And suddenly you’re so far from her, that it gives him whiplash and makes his heart swell to constrict his lungs. Chanyeol looks away from you and back over the crowd, dizzy from the lack of breaths he’s been taking. Right as he steps forward, someone bumps into his shoulder harshly.

“Whoa, watch where you’re going!” the guy says, and as he turns he comes to be face to face with Shownu. He was in high school with the guy, though they never much talked, let alone were they friends. In high school, Chanyeol was too busy ruining his life to make friends with guys like him. Shownu glares him down, pushing the other back a bit to get some space. Only, in a single second Chanyeol’s large hand is around his wrist, holding him back. Though he might have not had many friends before, he does now, and he also knows that Shownu isn’t on good terms with some of them.

“Let go of me, jerk,” Shownu says, trying to pull from his grasp, “I need to talk to Kai.” His rude attitude only makes Chanyeol that much more annoyed. Today isn’t the day to piss him off like this, though it’s never the best idea.

“You’re not welcome here,” Chanyeol bites, squeezing his wrist harder to drive the point home. “I suggest you take your pathetic self home before you hurt yourself, jerk.” Shownu pushes him back harshly, shoving against his shoulders with all his strength and Chanyeol stumbles back, bumping into some people along the way. When he looks up, he’s sure his eyes spew fire, because some people takes step back. Shownu dusts off his hands on his pants and steps past him to walk away. Not the right day.

Without thinking, he jumps forward to grab the other, sending him clattering to the floor. He sits up on top of the scrambling Shownu and throws a punch to his jaw, heat shaking in his veins. Shownu manages to turn himself around and tries to grab his throat, but another fist connects to his face before he can. Chanyeol’s fists come down over and over again. Busting open his lip, his eyebrow, the only sound a sharp ringing between his ears. Blood dripping. When he takes a moment to push himself from the floor, Shownu smiles through the liquid from his face. Red flashes in front of Chanyeol’s eyes. He slams down his fist again, a painful crunching sounding out, from his hand or the other’s face is unclear.

Suddenly multiple hands jerk him back, pulling him off the body and holding him as he thrashes in their hold. He doesn’t know who it is, doesn’t need to know. They hold him tightly, and as they drag him further away, his body suddenly feels tired. His hands feel heavy, but he doesn’t let his gaze move from the slumped body for a second, glaring down at the other with disgust. “Yeol,” Kyungsoo sounds, and though he’s right next to him the sound echoes, “calm down.”

Someone in the crowd helps Shownu up, and now he can really see the damage he caused. His eyebrow is split open, dark blood covering his one eye. Chanyeol’s rings still drip from the blood. Shownu’s chin is covered in blood, and his head slumps uncomfortably into himself. When the hands finally let go of him, Yeol needs to take several deep breaths to get rid of the dizzy sensation. His hands still shake from the adrenaline, surging through him like a fire. Your face suddenly shows up from the crowd, wide and terrified as you break through the wall of people in worry. You don’t see him as he walks away. Welcome to the underworld. Chanyeol doesn’t look back as people make a path to let him through. Welcome to his world.

Thank you so, so much for reading!! I hope you are all still enjoying it as much as I am because I genuinely love both characters with all my heart. I live for grumpy chanyeol but... that man writes himself. This wasn’t even supposed to happen but he decided to be a jerk this chapter so...... sorry not sorry?

So happy to know that all you lovelies want to be tagged in this series. Just warning you already, this isn’t the only down on this roller coaster. I love all the messages and the thoughts you guys have been sending me, it means the world.

@ninibears-erigom @suhoerections @kimjongdaely @kyungseokie @kpop---scenarios @yeoldontknow @baekwell--tart @skjdln @strongpowerhope @i-dont-wanna-kokostop @brie02 @baby-hands-x-x-blr @baek-byunies @shxrl4747 @lucymheng @byunfirstlady @chanyeolol @snowflakesandkisses @you-know-bts @puppykangie @kkpoptrashhh @im-a-special-bebe @joolsreads

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marril96 · 4 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 34: Tripping

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: It’s time for the senior trip.

A/N: Huge thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for recommending and helping me out with research about Branson, Missouri.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Traveling was the worst.

The act itself wasn't that bad, but the lead up to it might as well have come from Hell itself.

Waking up early — so early the birds had yet to start chirping and the sun was barely glazing over the horizon, it, too, too tired to function.

Pulling on clothes in a half-assed attempt to look presentable when you didn't even remember your name, yet alone knew what you were doing and why.

Going through your bag one more time to make sure you'd packed everything and messing it up because you still hadn't had your coffee and your vision, on a scale from one to ten, was somewhere between a a minus five and a zero.

To be completely honest, you had no one to blame but yourself (not that you would ever admit it; Rowena's pride had rubbed off on you, or at least that was the excuse you were going with). If you'd gone to bed early instead of chatting with your girlfriend about things you wouldn't be comfortable bringing up in polite society, you wouldn't have woken up feeling like shit.

You wished to say it was worth it, but…

Oh, to hell with it!

It was worth it.

Rowena was worth it.

Today marked the third month, to the day, of your relationship. Time went by so fast; days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and, before you knew it, the dreadful cold was replaced by the fresh green of plants and the brightness of the sun, and you and Rowena couldn't have been more in love.

It was the one constant in the changes around you.

You loved each other; truly, madly, deeply. The more time you spent with her, the surer you were you wanted her in your future.

You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.

You knew it was too soon. You'd known her for years, but you'd been friends for less than a year and only dated for three months. It was too short a time to get to know her, all of her. To get to know yourself before making such an enormous plan.

But you were sure.

You knew her enough to know there was no one you would rather be with; not now, not ever.

She was everything you'd always dreamed of, and more. So much more.

She knew how to make you laugh when you were down.

She teased and pushed all the right buttons, always with a promise of fun, never crossing lines.

She held you when you were down, whispered sweetly into your ear until you gave into a smile.

She cared about you so much. Too much. More than either of you thought she ever would.

And, most important of all, she loved you.

Good god, she loved you.

She didn't say it much, but she never wasted a moment to show it. Her kisses were love personified. When she touched you — when she held your hand, stroked your hair, hell, even slapped your ass — you felt safe, protected. At home.

You belonged with her.

If there was a way to make it official, to make it last forever, you would go for it in a heartbeat.

Maybe there would be, a hopeful part of you thought. Maybe, sometime in the future, near or otherwise, the two of you would make it official.

It wasn't something you often considered. You didn't need a piece of paper to prove your feelings, but…

Maybe.

Rowena was already in front of the school's gates by the time you showed up. She was clad in her usual attire, a strange mix of business and glamour you found incredibly attractive. A pair of purple sunglasses hung over her eyes. They were huge, extra; completely her style. She sipped on a thermos of what you assumed was tea, and you instantly thought of Crowley's alcoholic coffee.

Rowena was Scottish, but not to that extent.

"Morning," you said, diving in for a quick kiss — your usual greeting.

"Good morning, love." Her voice gave way that she hadn't had her full beauty sleep, either. Which was partly your fault, but, in your defense, she had messaged you first. She'd started it. You'd just joined in on the fun.

"You look like hell," Dean, who was standing right beside her, accompanied by Meg and Castiel, commented.

He was one to talk. "Likewise."

He shrugged.

"Nice shades," you told Rowena teasingly.

You could picture her rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't you start."

"They are nice," you said defensively.

She looked at you in what must have been a glare. Then, pouting, she said, "I look horrible."

"That's impossible." She could get hit by a truck and would still be beautiful.

"I've got bags under my eyes," she sulked.

"Poor baby," you teased, which earned you a smack in the shoulder. "Ow! Don't be violent."

"Don't be mean and I won't."

"I'm never mean."

She snorted.

You huffed. "You're rude."

"Are you two five?" Dean said. It had been months, and he'd still not gotten used to your banter. If he cared to at all.

At least he didn't hate Rowena anymore.

It was an improvement.

Sort of.

"Are you under the impression we're talking to you?" Rowena retorted.

He rolled his eyes.

You and Rowena weren't the only ones who snared at each other.

She and Dean engaged in plenty of snark battles of their own.

Friendly ones, this time. No malice, all fun.

It was refreshing to see, to say the least. You didn't want to ever have to choose between them again (though your choice remained the same; some things you weren't willing to change your mind about).

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the bus to arrive. You weren't looking forward to spending four hours on the road, but it was better than standing amidst a crowd of kids, a part of which still, all these months later, stared at Rowena and whispered amongst themselves.

She was still the whore. Still the slut, the home-wrecker, the baby killer.

Rumors died hard.

To the Principal's credit, he had held an assembly back when it all happened. He'd managed to get some psychologist to come down to the school and talk about bullying for three long, long hours. It didn't do much, though there were quite a few students who realized what they'd been doing to their fellow peers — to Rowena — was wrong and left it alone. The majority didn't want to get in trouble.

There were no rules about opinions, though.

They were still allowed to think whatever they wanted about her. Whisper whatever they wanted amongst their friends so long as they didn't do it right in her face.

Rowena seemed okay with that.

You were not, far from it, but what could you do?

What they were doing wasn't — technically — bullying.

By some miracle known as being the Principal's kid, Lucifer was allowed to go on the trip. Kids had been banned for less; kids who didn't have daddy dearest guarantee they'd learned their lesson and would behave.

As if.

He and Olivette sat in the back of the bus, surrounded by their equally nasty friends. You and Rowena seated yourselves in the front; you by the window, leaning your head against the glass, and her right beside you, commenting — whining, pout and all — how it wasn't fair, that she wanted to sit there.

Tough luck, baby.

You just chuckled and squeezed her hand, saying, "You can lean on me if you want. I'll be your pillow."

You didn't need to see her eyes to know she rolled them.

Meg and Castiel occupied the seats across from you, and in front of them Dean sat beside Charlie. You didn't know the rest of the students very well, but at the very least they weren't assholes like the ones in the back. It was a plus.

Sticking your headphones in your ears, you let your eyes wander outside. The scenery along the way was beautiful. Fresh and green and colorful with flowers, it looked like something straight out of a fairytale. There were fields of freshly planted corn, and those full of tractors and hunched over, hardworking farmers. Children played on the streets. People rushed to work. Cars buzzed left and right.

The country was alive, even in these early morning hours.

Rowena listened to your advice and let her head rest on your shoulder. It didn't take long for her to doze off. It was an adorable sight. Careful as to not wake her, you removed her sunglasses and lowered them on your lap. Unconsciously, she seemed to appreciate the gesture, as she instantly leaned further into you, pressing herself against you.

Her hand remained in yours, holding tight even in sleep.

She was so precious.

So wonderful.

So lovely.

A soft, tender little creature with walls of ice around her; ice you'd managed to melt and see past, to respect for the protection it provided her.

She trusted you in ways she hadn't trusted anyone for years. You swore to never do anything to jeopardize it.

I love you, sweet girl, you thought. I want to be with you. Forever.

Would she want the same?

Would she be willing to commit?

Would she be ready?

All in good time, you told yourself. For now, you just wanted to enjoy this moment of peace, of serenity. Of pure and utter bliss as Rowena's heart beat tenderly against your side, a soft, calming little melody.

When teachers announced your imminent arrival at your destination, you gently nudged her awake. "We're almost there."

She let out a yawn; a small, adorable one that made your heart flutter like a thousand butterflies. "Already?"

"Uh huh. Sleep well?"

"Decent."

You grinned. "Told you I'm a good pillow."

"Good enough."

"Mean."

"You know it."

Looking around for nosy teachers, you pressed a quick peck to her lips. "I'm hungry."

The corners of Rowena's mouth curled into a smirk. "By all means, go for it."

You rolled your eyes. "You know what I mean. But I wanna kiss you, too. Lots more."

"Do it, then," she said, and it sounded an awful lot like a challenge.

Usually you would be up for it, but… "Don't want the teachers to bitch."

"Who cares?"

"I don't need that shit this early in the morning." Right now, what you needed was food. "We can make out later. They can't supervise us all the time."

Rowena grinned, beaming. "Is that a promise?"

"I guess it is."

This was a senior trip, after all.

Why were you here, if not to have fun?

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #fanfiction #my fics #high school au

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