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harley-sunday · 3 years

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Encore [01]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.4k

AN: So, here it is, the re-write of Encore. For those of you who have read it when it was first published, there are some subtle changes in this first part, but the real fun doesn’t start until part 2, which will be online tomorrow. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

Cursing quietly you set out in a jog, one hand holding your purse close to your body while the other is clutching the double espresso that made you late in the first place. You make a mental note to check if they’ve replaced the coffee machine in your hotel room when you get back tonight, because you really don't want to go on another early-morning Starbucks run tomorrow in case they haven’t.

Still, you’re parked relatively closeby and so it’s only a short run to the double doors which you all but burst through, coming to a sudden stop when there are two people in your way who look like they’ve been waiting for you. They introduce themselves as part of the crew and help you with your microphone, telling you to keep it on as much as possible and not to forget to hand it back at the end of every day. You only half listen because all of a sudden the familiarity of the place hits you and you’re surprised to see nothing has changed, not really anyway. It’s almost like time has stood still and the sense of melancholy that washes over you makes you a little weak in the knees.

There’s no time to reminisce any further though, because once your mic is in place they tell you everyone else is already here and waiting for you in the theater room, and so you’re off again, running towards the other end of Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School for the first time in eighteen years.

You’re a little out of breath when you get there and want to allow yourself a moment to catch it again, maybe calm your nerves a little, but you know they’re waiting for you and so you take one last deep breath and open the door.

There’s a group of nine people on the stage who, like you, are the show’s main cast. They’re all talking to each other amicably and you wonder if they’ve kept in touch all these years. One by one they turn to you as you make your way towards the front and it does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. Some of them look surprised to see you and you don’t blame them, because once you left Sudbury after graduating high school you had no intention of ever coming back and so you cut ties rather vigorously.

Two of the four cameras that are spread out across the room are now trained on you, but you try your hardest to act natural, because that’s what it said in the production brief they sent you last week, and so instead you try to focus on the people you haven’t seen for so long.

It’s Nicole Matthews who greets you first, running towards you as you walk on stage. She presses a kiss to your cheek before she gives you a hug, a quiet, “So glad you made it, babe,” whispered into your ear. You hang on to her just a little longer because now that you’re finally getting to hug your best friend again for the first time in eighteen years it’s hard to let go.

After Nicole you make your way down the line at a steady pace, greeting everyone with a hug, except for Michael Pratt who insists on doing the secret handshake he taught you during rehearsals all those years ago. You hand your coffee to John Ryan on your right, because unfortunately you’ll need both hands for this. It takes a little practice but then you remember the full routine and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on your third try, earning you a wink from Johnny when he hands you your coffee back, “Still got it, huh kiddo?”

All too soon there’s only one person left to greet and you know all eyes are on you when you walk towards Chris, the talking from before quieting down to a hushed whisper. It’s fine. You get it. You would want to know what happens next too.

“Hi.”

He seems unsure what to do and after a second or two he pulls you in for a hug that’s a little awkward and might have not been such a good idea after all.

You give him a quick pat on the back before you pull back, and step to the left, trying to hide from view a little. There’s a whole range of emotions you’re going through right now and you’re not sure which one to settle one. If somehow you could walk out of here and just forget this ever happened, you probably would, even though you are sure Nicole would never let you.

It’s then three more people walk in and so everyone’s attention shifts to the newcomers before they have a chance to ask questions you don’t have any answers to.

The two men and one woman introduce themselves as the director, choreographer, and musical director for this project and tell you there’s a lot of work ahead of you, even though from tomorrow there will be some professionals to fill some of the minor roles and help with the choreography. They seem so unfazed about having a celebrity there that you can’t help but wonder if they got instructions from production or if they’re just used to working with well-known actors. You suppose, and hope, it’s the latter.

“So, Grease,” the director, Coy, comments with a smile when he hands the scripts to Nicole to pass down the line, “that was already a classic by the time you performed it.” He asks everyone to tell him who had which role in the original production, taking notes and nodding fervently when he hears who played who.

Coy looks up and smiles, “So, we have a lot to do, of course, if we’re gonna do a show in five days, but Grease doesn’t work unless you have fun. Unless you’re having fun, the show falls flat.” He looks to Adam, the musical director, “So today we’re gonna have a little bit of a singing session. That’ll let us know where you are, vocally.”

Adam has the group form a semi-circle and hands each of you a piece of paper with the lyrics of ‘I Want it that Way’ by the Backstreet Boys on them, because, as he reasons, it was one of the biggest hits the year you performed Grease and you all need to go back to that place in time.

Nicole starts, a little hesitant at first, but then she decides to go for it and it’s amazing and, like nineteen years ago, you are absolutely in awe of her voice. As more and more people sing their rendition of the song, you are actually surprised at the level of singers in the group and how serious everyone takes this. That is until Johnny and Michael decide to remake the song into a duet once it’s Johnny’s turn and their very serious facial expressions and interpretive dancing have you crying from laughter in no time.

Chris is up next and finally you get to take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that stretches across the muscles in his arms and chest, paired with black jeans, and sneakers, and it suits him. His voice is soft but clear and you can’t help but wonder why he never did more musical theater. You’ve followed his career, of course you have, and you’re proud to see what he’s accomplished, because you know how hard he’s worked to get there.

It’s your turn then and instead of butterflies it feels like there’s a herd of elephants stomping around in your stomach. You step up anyway, because, with the exception of the three professionals, they’ve all heard you sing before. You haven’t sung in a long time, but you still know how to carry a tune, although you never really take any risks, and so if anything your rendition errs a little on the boring side. Still, you make it through the song without any real struggles and at the end Adam praises the group, saying he’s impressed at everyone’s vocal capabilities.

Coy looks up from his seat then, where he’s been taking more notes ever since Nicole started singing, and informs you that they have decided to honor the original casting.

And so here you are, once again playing the Rizzo to Chris’ Kenickie.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of read-throughs, choreography, and more singing, and even though you know you’ll be dead-tired once you get back to your hotel tonight, you also can’t help but feel excited. You never pursued a career in acting or performing and so Grease was both your first and last venture out into the theater world, but God, did you like it.

You’re a little lost in thoughts, watching a scene you’re not in from the side of the stage, thinking back on your days as a theater kid, when Chris comes up beside you, “How you holding up?”

You know what he wants you to say, because this has been your spiel whenever you found each other in the wings, but you just can’t get the words out, there’s eighteen years worth of pain and heartache that needs to be dealt with first. Instead, you keep looking straight ahead at the scene in front of you, shaking your head ever so slightly to let him know, what, you’re not exactly sure.

He takes a step back and doesn’t say anything else until it’s his turn to enter the stage.

There’s no time to unravel what the hell just happened because Nicole comes off stage and joins you then, gently bumping her hips against yours, “You ok, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“The ghost of my fifteen-year old self,” you mutter quietly. A little louder then, hoping she’ll let it go, “Don’t worry about it, Nic.”

“Well, at least no one’s gonna complain about the age difference between you two now,” she says with a grin, nodding towards the stage where Chris is going through his scene. She shakes her head, “God, I still can’t believe it was such an issue back then, only because he was, what? A year older?”

“Almost two,” you offer. You remember Mrs Linton pulling you aside to inform you there had been complaints about you being cast as Rizzo. She told you there were some people who were worried the age difference between you and Chris could be perceived as inappropriate, especially because you shared one very steamy makeout scene right before intermission, that went on for at least a few minutes. You were just a junior and so shocked to learn people had a problem with you that you offered to step down, but it turned out Mrs Linton was on your side, and she told you she’d kick your butt all the way back to second grade if you even so much as thought about letting them win.

You never found out who she meant by ‘them’ but you always thought Jessica Mullen, the girl playing Sandy, and Fiona Warren were behind all this. Jessica and Fiona were best friends, two of the most popular senior girls, and it was no secret Fiona had a huge crush on Chris back then. She also auditioned for the part of Rizzo, but Mrs Linton favored your approach to the character and so Fiona ended up being offered a role in the ensemble, which she declined with a temper-tantrum unprecedented by anything any two-year old has ever thrown.

Ultimately, as a compromise, Mrs Linton made you and Chris skip the makeout scene during rehearsals, which seemed to stop the protests somewhat. You've often wondered if she would have done things differently had she known Chris and you were already dating for two months by the time rehearsals started and so steamy make out sessions were part of your daily routine anyway. Then again, you always had the feeling she very much knew about your relationship and was just playing her part.

Nicole nudges you then, pulling you out of your memories, “It’s your cue, go!”

The producers thought it would be nice to have all of you go out to dinner after the first day back together, and so you find yourself at the Oak Barrel Tavern, sharing a table with Nicole, Johnny, Michael, Eric, and Chris, enjoying what everyone still considers to be the best burger in Sudbury. Funny how some things never change, you think, as you take a bite of your fries.

Except for you and Michael, the rest of the table all graduated in the same year and are already two beers deep into a play-by-play of the many senior stunts they pulled. You watch Chris as he animatedly tells the story of how he, Johnny, and Eric toilet papered the principal’s house the night before graduation. Two cameras circle your table and you are certain some part of this story will make it to air, because it’s too good not to. Johnny tries to chime in, but instead keeps letting out these roaring laughs whenever he remembers another detail of that night and you can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

It’s strange, you think, how something as insignificant as performing a musical together made you form a bond with these people which even after nineteen years is still there. Sometimes you wonder if leaving Sudbury all those years ago really brought you the peace of mind you were looking for. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so restless now if you had just accepted that this would always be your hometown and this group of people would always be here. You realize then that there’s hardly been any catching up going on tonight and so you figure they must have all kept in touch in some way or another.

You and Eric get to talking then, during a lull in the conversation, and he easily admits that hadn’t it been for Chris he would have liked to asked you to go to Senior Prom with him, revealing that back then he had a major crush on you. Your cheeks heat up at his confession and you can’t help but glance at Chris, who quickly adverts his eyes when you do. Turning back to Eric you try to make a joke about how he should have, because at least then you would have had a date, but the moment the words leave your mouth the awkward silence that follows makes you wish you hadn’t said anything.

Chris throws you an angry look and Nicole just stares at you in disbelief, before coming to your rescue and telling everyone that it’s getting late and maybe it’s time to go home.

You throw her what you hope is a grateful smile and get up, following the rest of the group outside, where the same crew that fitted you with your mic this morning is waiting for you and so you hand everything back to them like they asked you to

With a wave and a, “Goodnight everyone,” you head towards your car, not completely surprised when Nicole catches up with you.

“What the hell was that?”

“I-” you shake your head, “I don’t know. It came out before I knew it.”

“Well,” she says as she puts her hand on your shoulder and kisses your cheek, “we’ll discuss it over dinner tomorrow night.”

“Can’t wait,” you answer, a hint of sarcasm in your voice even though you are in fact looking forward to it. “See you tomorrow, Nic.”

“Bye, babe,” she says as she opens her car door and lowers herself into her seat. You wait until she’s backed up out of her parking spot before you give her a little wave and continue on towards your car while you rummage through your purse to try and find the keys to your rental. You push the button needed to unlock the car and are about to open the door when you hear someone come up behind you. Of course. You let out a sigh, “I know what you’re gonna say-”

“You don’t,” he says, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and his foot kicking at the loose gravel near your tire. He looks up at you, his voice much softer when he says, “I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years, Ace.”

Hearing him use his old nickname for you sends a shiver down your spine and you hate how it brings back an onslaught of memories. You don’t say anything, just look at him, wondering where he’ll go with this.

“Eighteen years is a long time.” He looks up at you, a sadness to his eyes that would make you a little weak in the knees had it not been for his next words, “Do you think that maybe it’s time to leave the past behind us? Maybe we could just start over?”

“We could just- Sorry, what?” You open your mouth to say more but find yourself at a momentary loss for words after what he’s suggested and so you stand there gaping like a stupid fish, which makes you even more angry. You shake your head and get in your car, “Goodnight, Chris.”

The drive to your hotel only takes a couple of minutes, which means you’re still pretty upset when you get to your room. Your purse ends up being flung into a corner somewhere before you make your way to the minibar and grab all four of the miniature bottles of whiskey that are in there, taking them out onto the balcony with you. Downing the first makes your throat burn in not an entirely unpleasant way, although it does nothing to relieve you of your anger.

Putting your feet up on the railing you lean back in your chair, head resting against the wall, and uncap the second tiny bottle. To hell with your good intentions of going to bed early, you think, knowing you won’t be able to sleep now anyway.

Today’s run to the theater room is almost a carbon copy of yesterday’s, down to the Starbucks cup in your hand because they didn’t replace the coffee maker in your room like they said they would and of course you forgot to check. The only difference is that you have a pounding headache and might just be a tad hungover. Oh well, there’s a first time for everything, you think as you make your way down to the stage once they've put your mic on.

Nicole eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything, although you do see her glance in Chris’ direction not much later, the rest of the group just nodding and some of them mumbling a “Good morning,” to you. Chris keeps his distance, probably thinks you’re still mad at him, which, you know, you are. Sort of, anyway. It sounded so casual when he suggested leaving the past behind you, like none of what happened matters anymore. Then again, maybe it doesn’t. It’s all just very confusing and you guess that’s what annoys you most of all.

Adam steps onto the stage then and tells you his plans for today, wanting to go through the songs in order, with choreography, for now not bothering with the scenes in between. It’s the only thing you’ll do today, except for some wardrobe fittings after lunch, and so he warns you it’s going to be grueling and that you won’t get to stop until everyone’s at least ninety percent there. A few more people come on stage and are introduced as the extras, professional actors who will make up the ensemble and help with the choreography where needed.

Your headache-induced bad mood helps you pull off ‘Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee’ with an attitude your sixteen-year old self wishes she had and even ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’ goes as well as it could. But then ‘We Go Together’ has you paired up with Chris for the first time and it’s awkward, and stiff, and when Coy reminds you that Rizzo is no longer mad at Kenickie at this point, you just nod and try to put in some extra effort to make it seem like there’s nothing going on between you and Chris, wanting to get it over with.

Coy doesn’t comment on it any further, but pulls you and Chris aside at the end of the day, when the rest of the group is dismissed after what Kelly, the choreographer, deems "A great day of work."

Both you and Chris are sitting on the edge of the stage, Coy standing in front of you, looking from one to the other and back, almost as if he’s studying you. He waves his hand around then, “What am I missing here?”

You shrug and out of the corner of your eye you see Chris do the same. You can’t help but smile when you realize it’s still very much you two against the rest of the world, even now, even when you’re sort of fighting.

“Fine,” Coy says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you don’t have to tell me. I’m just sensing some history here that I hope won’t get in the way of your performance.” He looks up at you, “Don’t let this become about you two, ok? There are eight other people who deserve this to be a good show. So whatever it is, work it out.” And then, before you have a chance to respond, he walks away, muttering something that sounds like, “High school drama, man.”

Next to you, Chris sighs and looks at you, “Maybe he has a point.”

“Hmm,” you shrug in a very non-committed kind of way. Your headache has reappeared, and you’re tired, and honestly, you just want to get back to your hotel room and take a quick nap.

Chris seems unfazed by your attitude, like he always was, “We really should talk about it.” He jumps down from the stage, “Why don’t you come over? We could get some takeout and, I don’t know,-’

“Chris,” you scoff.

“You rather do this here?” He raises his eyebrows and nods towards the camera on your left, which, no doubt, is still rolling.

“I’d rather not do this at all right now,” you mutter quietly, although you know it’s not fair. A little louder then, “I’m having dinner with Nicole tonight, so-"

He just nods, “Fine,” even though his jaw sets in a way that tells you it’s anything but.

“Come in, come in!” Nicole steps aside to let you pass and tells you to walk straight ahead to the kitchen, where you are greeted by the rest of her family. Her husband introduces himself as Keith and tells you it’s great to finally meet you, before he points at the two little boys sitting at the table, “That’s Leo, and the other hooligan’s Robby.”

“I’m five!” Leo exclaims proudly, holding up four fingers.

You chuckle, “That’s awesome!”

“The boys wanted you to sit in between them,” Nicole says from somewhere behind you, “hope you don’t mind?”

“Are you kidding me?” You wink at Robby, who looks at you expectantly, “Best seat in the house.”

Dinner is spent catching up with Nicole, or trying to anyway, because Leo and Robby keep interrupting, wanting to tell you about anything and everything they deem important enough to share. Which, as it turns out, is a lot. After dessert, Nicole asks Keith to take the kids into the living room, because, as she puts it, “Mama needs some peace and quiet,” and so you find yourself, glass of wine in hand, on the back porch not much later.

“You have a gorgeous family, Nic,” you tell her before you take a sip of your wine. “It’s really nice to finally get to meet them.”

“Thank you.” A mischievous smile then, “So. You wanna tell me what’s going on between you and Evans?”

Never one to beat around the bush, you think and laugh, “Nothing’s going on, Nic.”

“Uhu,” is all she says in reply, folding her arms in front of her chest as she keeps looking at you, one eyebrow raised for good measure.

You just shake your head but her looking at you like that makes you a little nervous and so, against better judgement you offer, “It’s complicated.”

“Uhu,”

“It is,” you reply, your voice suddenly an octave higher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure she knows most of it already anyway, and so you turn in your seat so you can face her, “You know I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, Nic, and I don’t know it’s- It’s weird.”

She nods, encouraging you to go on.

You sigh and rub your temple, “Eighteen years is a long time, Nic.”

“It is,” she agrees, “but maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet and at least try to be friends?” Her eyes grow kinder then, “You were always so good together.”

“I don’t know, I mean- And I know I keep saying this,” you hold up your hand when she starts to protest, “but it’s been such a long time. So much has happened. And none of it we went through together, you know? Does that even make sense?” You shrug and shake your head, “I guess our history together is both a blessing and a curse at this point.”

“You need to get out of your head, kid,” she offers with a stern look. “You’re setting this up for failure before it has even started.”

“This?”

“Oh come on,” she shakes her head, “don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.” She sits up, “I’m going to ask you something and you need to swear on Bubbles’ life that you won’t give me some bullshit answer.”

“Nicole,” you gasp, hand to your heart in pretend shock, but laughing at the same time. “You want me to swear on Mrs Linton’s dead goldfish? That’s fu-” but then you hear the french doors open and see two little boys running towards and so you have to adjust quickly and throw her a look for good measure, “-funny. Super funny. Funny haha. You’re funny.”

Nicole lets out a laugh and throws you a wink before she holds out her arms and smothers her two boys in kisses once they jump onto her lap, “Goodnight my little rebels, I love you.”

A chorus of “I love you, mama,” makes you smile and you watch the boys run back inside where they give you a quick wave from behind the door before they disappear upstairs.

“So?” Nicole asks, as if nothing ever happened.

You glare at her, knowing she’ll never let it go, “Fine.”

“Would you have come back to Sudbury to do this show if it weren’t for Chris?”

You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while you contemplate your reply, but of course you know the answer already. It wasn’t just for shits and giggles that you searched all the gossip sites for any information on his relationship status when you first agreed to do this. And so you shake your head, “No.”

“You know I told Keith I wasn’t sure you’d even come back, right?” Nicole shakes her head, “After all you’ve been through after you and Chris- You know-”

“Yeah,”

“I still have all your letters,” she confesses with a smile. “Every single one of them.”

“Nic-”

“It was my way of keeping you close,” she says and shrugs. She tries to act as if it’s no big deal, but her voice catches on the last word and when she tries to smile it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She clears her throat, “I’m just glad to have you back.”

They’ve replaced the coffee machine in your room while you were out yesterday and so there’s no running towards the theater room once you make it to Lincoln-Sudbury this morning. You walk through the hallways at a leisurely pace, enjoying how much everything still looks the same, down to the blue color of the lockers lining the wall.

You’re actually a little early and so you’re one of the first to arrive, only finding Johnny and Michael on stage. Michael insists you give the secret handshake another go and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on the first try this time.

Johnny gently pats your back, “It’s really good to have you back, kid.” He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck and looking a little flustered, “We always wondered what happened to you, you know, after you and Chris broke up and you left Sudbury-”

“Thanks, Johnny,” you reply with a smile, “that means a lot.”

“But you’ve been good?” Michael asks.

You nod, “I am now. It’s good to be back.”

The door opens then and you see Chris and Jessica walk in together, Jessica telling him something that makes him laugh and all of a sudden you feel a pang of jealousy that you’re not necessarily proud of. You try to get back into the conversation with Michael and Johnny, but they’re talking about last night’s football game and so you just stand there, trying your hardest not to stare as Chris and Jessica step onto the stage. Before it can get awkward though, the rest of the group walks in and so all of a sudden there are nine people surrounding you and your attention is diverted elsewhere.

Nicole waves at you from the other side of the stage and you smile back at her, mouthing a, “Morning,” at her.

Coy, Adam, and Kelly walk in next, followed by the ensemble, and not much later you find yourself reciting your lines over and over again because Coy wants to do a complete runthrough of the show this afternoon to prepare for the two dress rehearsals planned for tomorrow.

You find Chris on the side of the stage in between scenes and stand beside him, not saying anything because you’re so nervous you don’t even trust your own voice right now. But, you promised Nicole you’d do this, promised her you would try to make things right, and so here you are, reaching for his hand, your finger’s brushing against his skin before you gently tap the inside of his wrist four times. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Meet me after practice

It’s been nineteen years since either of you last used this shorthand, but he must remember what it means because he nods in reply.

You wait for him in what used to be your usual spot, all the way in the back of the parking lot where there’s a bench tucked away in the tree line. It’s been a while since you were dismissed by Coy and you worry he might not show up making your stomach turn.

Letting your eyes fall to the ground you distract yourself by trying to get your breathing under control, hoping it will help you calm your nerves. When you look up again you can’t help but smile, because there he is, walking towards you and looking just as nervous as you feel, “Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Listen, Chris-” you start, just as he says something that you don’t quite catch. He nods for you to go first and so you clear your throat and start again, “You were right. We should talk-”

“Come again?” He grins, “Did you just tell me I’m right, Ace?”

You stare at him, shaking your head, but there’s a smile playing on your lips because this is the best response you could have gotten and so you shrug, “I guess I did.”

“I guess you did,” he echoes. A little more serious then, “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, because honestly you didn’t think this far ahead, “maybe grab a bite to eat somewhere?”

He smiles apologetically, “I have somewhere I need to be tonight, but why don’t we do this tomorrow? That way we can both think things over a little and-”

“I’d like that,” you admit easily.

“You want to come over to my place or should I book a table somewhere?”

Biting your lip you weigh the pros and cons, quickly realizing you much rather have this conversation in the privacy of his home than somewhere in a restaurant and so you nod, “I’ll come over.” You give him your phone number and watch as he saves it in his phone, smiling when he puts you in as ‘Ace’.

He pockets his phone when he’s done, “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s a little awkward then and so you turn around, a quick wave over your shoulder to tell him goodbye.

You hear your name being called from somewhere behind you when you walk from your car to the entrance of the school and can’t help but smile when you see Nicole hurry to catch up with you. You kiss her cheek once she joins you, “Morning.”

“Hi, gorgeous,” she beams back, “you excited about today or what?”

“Dress rehearsal?” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Uhu,”

You raise your eyebrows and look at her as you push the double door leading into the building open, unsure if she’s saying what you think she’s saying. You shake your head when she starts laughing, “How do you even know?”

“I didn’t,” she holds up her hands to let you know she’s telling the truth, “but I saw you in the parking lot together after practice yesterday and I just figured, you know, maybe you kept your word about wanting to work things out with him. And then you totally gave it away just now, so-”

“I hate you,” you mutter quietly as you pick up your pace.

“You love me,” she counters, easily catching up with you. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve got planned for tonight.”

Like he promised, Coy wants you to run through the entire show at least twice today, choreography, outfits changes and all, and so you take your place, not particularly looking forward to all the dancing. The first half of the show goes as well as it could, although Johnny keeps forgetting his lines, and Jessica takes too long whenever she has to do an outfit change, and ok, fine, you mess up the choreography more than you care to admit too.

When you finally get to the part right before intermission, where you and Chris have to make out for at least two minutes, Nicole is quick to inform Coy that you never rehearsed that scene when you first performed the show, and wouldn’t it be great if you didn’t do it this time around either? Coy seems interested as to why and so Nicole gives him an abridged version, and to your surprise he quickly agrees to skip the scene until the show tomorrow, because, as he reasons, it will add some drama.

A quick glance at Chris earns you a wink from him and you know he’s probably just as relieved as you are.

You find Nicole in the dressing room not much later, where she’s getting fitted for her Frenchy wig and when you walk up to her all you say is, “Thank you.”

She nods in response, “Of course.”

At the end of the day you’ve run through the show almost three times and Coy seems somewhat confident that you’ll manage to pull it off tomorrow. He has some kind words for everyone and tells you all to get a good night’s sleep and to meet back again here tomorrow afternoon at five, for a last dinner together.

Chris texts you his address after practice and tells you he’ll have dinner ready around seven, with a smiley face at the end that lets you know he’s just as nervous about this as you are. It’s funny how easily you can still read him after all these years, you think, as you connect your phone to its charger before you hop in the shower.

Your outfit of choice is simple and not too dressed up, but still nice enough for whatever this is. Definitely not a date, you think, but then again, maybe it is. You grab your phone and purse before you head out, nerves suddenly taking over and for a moment you wonder if you should just cancel. You’re going back to Philadelphia on Sunday anyway, so maybe it’s better to just leave things the way they are, you reason. You give yourself a very stern talking to then, because you can’t keep running away from this. You’ve been doing that for the past eighteen years and look where that’s gotten you. No, time to get some closure, you decide as you close your hotel room door behind you and head downstairs to your car.

You pull up to a heavy iron gate about fifteen minutes later, only the roof of his house visible from the road. Pushing the call button you tap your steering wheel to the beat of the song that’s playing on the radio until he answers with a kind, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply with a smile and watch as the gate opens in front of you. After about half a mile the house comes into full view and you let out a quiet, “Wow,” because it really is a beautiful farmhouse. You park your car next to his not much later and just as you step outside his front door opens and a dog comes running towards you.

“Dodger, sit,” Chris says from where he’s standing on the front porch and the dog does as it's told.

“Hi cutie,” you say as you walk up to the dog and scratch behind its ears, “hi.” It gives you a moment to take a deep breath, because you’re so nervous it feels like there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach right now.

Dodger runs back to Chris then and so you follow him, meeting Chris on the steps, where he holds out his arm and pulls you in for a side hug, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Chris,” you protest quietly, although you don’t really want him to let go either.

“I know,” he whispers, “I know. I’m just glad you’re here.” He lets go then and motions for you to follow him inside. He leads you through the house to the kitchen, where the opened French doors reveal a large deck where a table has been set for two.

“Come on,” he says and walks outside where he pulls out a chair for you, “sit down. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him walk back into the kitchen, curious to find out what he’s up to but then Dodger sits down next to you and gently puts his paw on your knee to let you know he’d like some more scratches, thank you very much and so you don’t really see Chris come back with two glasses of champagne until he puts one down in front of you.

He sits down on the opposite side of the table before he raises his glass and smiles, “It’s good to have you back.”

“Yeah,” you reply, before you clink your glass against his and take a sip.

Dinner’s a little awkward, both of you not quite ready to stray away from the small talk and so you mostly just tell him what you’ve been up to these past eighteen years, albeit it a slightly abridged version. No need to tell him about how you’ve never really seemed to have been able to find your place in the world and still feel like an outsider everywhere you go just yet.

He tells you about his career, how much everything has changed once he agreed to play Captain America, and how he secretly would like to do more behind the camera from now on. Maybe step away from the spotlight a little because he still gets these bouts of anxiety and your heart goes out to him because you remember how much he struggled in high school.

To lighten the mood you tease him about doing this show because it seems so small in comparison to what he’s been doing, but he assures you he never even had to think about it when they asked him to take part.

“I’m guessing you were a little more hesitant?”

You nod, “I was.”

He doesn’t push it any further and you’re grateful for that.

You offer to help him clear the plates after he suggests to maybe move things inside because it’s getting colder. It takes two trips to the kitchen to clear the table and once again you compliment him on the amazing pasta dish he tells you he made from scratch. You believe him, only because you know his mother taught him well and you fondly remember her cooking.

He tells you to make yourself at home while he clears away the last things and so you find yourself in his living room, smiling when you see the wall filled with family pictures. Most of them are recent, but there’s one of him and his brother Scott that you know for a fact was taken at his parents’ house right before Chris’ Senior prom. You know this because you were the one that took it. And because you were his date.

“That was a good night,”

You look over your shoulder to see him walk towards you, holding a glass of whiskey in each hand, and can’t help but smile, “It was.”

He hands you one of the glasses and touches it with his then, “To all the good memories.”

“Chris-”

“I know,” he says, “but it wasn’t all bad, Ace.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree easily. “It was good, Chris, right up until the very end.”

“Yeah, about that-” He clears his throat before he speaks again, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.”

You want to tell him that it’s ok, that it was no big deal, that maybe you overreacted at the time, but you guess you both know that’s not true and so you just say, “Thank you.”

He nods.

You take a sip of your drink then, relishing in the way it burns your throat, as a welcome distraction to the tears that have started to form in your eyes. You let your gaze drift back to the same picture when you say, “I wish you would have just told me.”

He lowers his head, “I know.”

“That’s what hurt me the most,” you swallow back a fresh set of tears. “Because it wasn’t so much that you couldn’t make it to my Senior prom, I mean, I understood working on your first movie was more important at the time but- To find out you were at some random B-list celebrity’s party- And not because you told me, but because someone shoved a magazine with your picture in it under my nose-” you shake your head trying to rid yourself of the memories, but failing -”draped over some girl.” You lift your glass and put it to your lips, fully intending to finish whatever’s left in one go.

He starts to say something but you hold up one finger to let him know you’re not done yet. A tear rolls down your cheek and you’re not sure if it’s because of the whiskey or because of everything else, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. There’s something you have to admit, “Maybe I should have reacted differently, or at least given you a chance to explain, but I-” a sob escapes you then, “I was so angry. So hurt. For me breaking up right then and there was the only thing that made sense.” Another tear spills over but you don’t even try to wipe it away, knowing more will follow soon. Instead you let out a humourless laugh, “But then suddenly every single thing in Sudbury reminded me of you and every memory was like a knife to the heart, and so I had to- I just had to leave.”

He nods and from the corner of your eye you see him run a hand through his hair.

“Turns out it hurt all the same no matter where I was,” you continue softly, “but it took me years to figure that out.” You clear your throat, trying to find the right words. Yes, it still hurts, but maybe it’s time to let the past be the past. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry too, Chris. I should have-”

“Don’t,” he says, his voice kind. “There are a lot of things we both could have done differently, but we were still so young and, I don’t know, I think we both did what we thought was best. We can’t change what happened,” he turns towards you, “and I don’t want to make excuses for what I did, because,” he clears his throat, “it would be far too little, far too late.” He lowers his eyes, “All I know is that it’s been eighteen years and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

“Chris-”

He looks back up at you and smiles, “It’s my turn now, Ace.” A hand on your arm then, his touch soft and a gentle squeeze to let you know what he’s going to say next is important, “I know there’s still a lot left unsaid, but we’ll get there, eventually. And this might sound crazy, and I’m not saying we should forget what happened but, I don’t know, maybe we could try to start over and just see where it leads us. What do we have to lose?”

You let the weight of his words sink in, wondering if you are able to just forgive and forget this easily. It’s then you remember admitting to Nicole that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Chris and the possibility to get some closure and so you agree with a quiet, “I’d like that.”

He seems a little unsure of himself then, so you put down your glass and take his hands in yours, draping them over your shoulders before you wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you tight, presses a soft kiss to your temple that feels maybe like the most intimate thing he’s ever done, and quietly whispers, “I’ve missed you, Ace.”

He offers you his guest bedroom after another round of whiskey and some smalltalk, because somehow you’re both still hesitant to open up completely. It’s ok, you tell yourself, you’ll get there eventually and there’s no need to rush. You find yourself in the ensuite bathroom not much later, putting on one of his Patriots shirts to act as your pyjamas for the night. It’s all a bit surreal and you’re grateful you’re on the opposite side of the house, because it would be too weird otherwise, even though you know that doesn’t really make sense either.

Sleep comes surprisingly easy once you’re under the covers and so the next thing you know there’s a knock on your door and for a moment you’re confused because this isn’t your hotel room. You hear his familiar chuckle on the other side then before he lets you know breakfast is ready if you’re up for it and it’s then you remember where you are.

You take a quick shower before you make your way to the kitchen where you find him leaning against the counter top, enjoying a cup of coffee, Dodger at his feet. He pushes a full cup towards you and smiles at you from over his, “Morning.”

“Morning,”

“Sleep well?”

“I did, yeah,” you admit, even though it still surprises you. You pick up the steaming hot cup and wrap your hands around it, the smell of freshly brewed coffee waking you up even more.

He motions to the kitchen island where there’s a plate of pastries, “I got you some Danish,” he almost looks embarrassed then, running a hand through his hair, “you used to like those, right?”

“I did.” You’re quick to correct yourself, “I do. Thank you.”

“You got any plans for today?”

You shrug, “Not really, maybe drive around a bit to do some sightseeing, you know, see how much has changed over the years.” You grab a pastry then and immediately Dodger’s attention shifts from Chris to you.

“No,” Chris warns him and Dodger’s quick to lie down again. “Good boy.” He looks back at you, “Until when are you here?”

You’ve just taken a bite and so it takes a while before you answer, “I’m flying back on Sunday.”

“To?”

“To Philadelphia.”

He nods appreciatively, “That’s not too far.”

You spend a few hours driving around the area, thankful that he didn’t ask if he could come. You guess you both needed some time alone.

The trip down memory lane is nice, but after a few stops you don’t really know where else to go and so you drive back to your hotel, where you have a few hours left until you need to get ready. You kick off your shoes once you’re inside your room and sit down on the tiny balcony before you fish your phone out of your back pocket and call Nicole, who picks up on the first ring.

“Tell me everything!”

“Hi Nicole, how are you,” you mock, but can’t help but laugh. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it? Are you excited for tonight?”

“I hate you,”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, “but you better start talking, babe, or else.”

And so you do. You tell her about dinner, about the talk you and Chris had after, about how you spent the night, laughing when you hear her curse quietly after you’ve told her nothing happened, and how you and Chris agreed to start over.

“Oh honey,” is all she says, but you know exactly what she means.

#Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #Chris Evans #Encore

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 33

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, guns

A/N: we’re a few chapters away from the end and i’m much too emotional. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Her reflection in the mirror was quite clear: the handmaid was dressed like a bridesmaid. She observed the tiny details of the dress which reached all the way to the ground, the same tiny details reproduced on every single dress any of her bridesmaids were wearing and in that exact moment, Y/N never felt more hypocritical than ever before wearing a celebration dress for a celebration she didn’t want to celebrate. She really wanted to be happy for her and if she were marrying anyone else, she would’ve been so excited, but she wasn’t. Gwen was marrying Sebastian, she was marrying the man she was in love with and the man who was unknowingly the father of her baby.

Everything just seemed to happen in slow motion and she felt herself leave more and more from the scene as she stood there in her bridesmaid dress and berry coloured lipstick with no one talking or even noticing she was there. For the first time in her life she realised how invisible she was to everyone in that room. Every single person in that room had once asked for her help being with homework or lying and she was still as invisible as ever. As the bridal party exchanged various gifts to be used on her “first night” along with unholy amounts of champagne and expensive gourmet canapés, Y/N took away from the bedroom, slowly and quietly closing the door. The halls of the Ritz were filled with several guests from mob families’ heads to their friends, celebrities, public personalities and rich people waiting for the time to get a peek the blushing bride. Y/N would have easily swayed through the crowd and returned to her bedroom had it not been for a few flower girls running around in their puffy taffeta baby pink dresses with their hair up in silky ribbons with some flowers peppered around.

She didn’t know if it was her hormones playing tricks on her or if the lack of sleep had finally caught up to her but she couldn’t help but stare at them with an inherent sadness as her hand rested against her stomach. Was she gonna even have enough to provide for her child? The pay checks coming from being in Sebastian’s employment wouldn’t be enough for more than the first year and with the economy, Y/N didn’t think someone would be looking for an English Literature major. She had never even had experience in the field, being forbidden to do a internship year at the British Museum with the excuse that it would be much too dangerous. How was she gonna provide for the baby? Maybe she could get a job as a waitress in Paris, the city was filled with cafés and restaurants.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel worry as her thumb caressed her stomach. Turning her head away from the playing children she continued her way down the hall until the lift that would take her to her bedroom. Y/N watched the numbers of the doors go down until she noticed Sebastian’s door. Unlike Gwen’s door, there was no one awaiting outside, it was void of any seemingly curious people about the groom. She should really keep walking and not get in, yet she felt pity for him not having his mother or his father on his wedding day and so she knocked softly on his door, opening it to see Sebastian walking from side to side, a condensed glass of orange coloured whiskey on his left hand and a untied tie hanging from his neck.

- Liquid courage? - she walked into his room. He looked at her for a few seconds before gulping the rest of his beverage, cleaning his lips with the back of his hand afterwards. - Where are your groomsmen?

- In the same place where non-existent things belong. - he replied, turning to his floor length mirror to try and tie his tie to no avail. Y/N sighed, placing her hands in his shoulders and turning him to face her before her hands moved to his tie to tie it into a Windsor not.

- You surely must have someone close enough to be your groomsman or best man. - she straightened his crisp cotton dress shirt before sliding her hands back to his shoulders. She let out a sigh, looking to the other side and contemplating what she was about to ask him. - Let’s run away.

- What?

- Let’s go to France. There’s a place I know which would definitely take us in until we found a place since I’m sure Mr. Forrest wouldn’t allow me to keep the house. Let’s just go, please.

- What? Angel, we can’t just run away, my whole money is dependent on this marriage. How am I supposed to take care of you? Do you know how many enemies I have? I couldn’t possibly hire enough security for you. - he cupped her face, trying to make her understand her point. - I will never have enough to give you if we leave.

- As long as you’re with me, that would be enough. Am I not enough?

- Angel, there is a legally binding contract between me and Genevieve. I can’t just ... I promised my father. - Y/N took a step back, hitting the door while her hand held the knob. - We can’t rush in, we need to have a pla ...

- Why do you care so much about what your father made you promise when you were a child. The same child whose mother he forbad you from seeing ... you know Sebastian, just because your father was a great man, doesn’t mean he was a good one.

Before he could reply to her, she opened the door and exited, rushing through the hall and punching the button of the lift so she could return to her bedroom before she completely broke down. She could feel her chest clenched and the warmness of her tears which almost burned the brim of her eyes. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ear mixed with the soft music of the lift and nothing made her want to break down more in tears than she should.

As she rushed into her bedroom she collapsed on her bed, the tears finally rolling down. Mr. Williams was right, she was a mistress and a innocent mistress at that. Why would she believe he would run away? Why would he gave up on what he knew for her? But will all of that, what would she do with the baby? She clearly couldn’t stay, Gwen and Dan would be quick to notice her growing bump along with other pregnancy symptoms? No, she had to leave. Start again, start again Y/N. She can’t spend her whole life dreaming despite it being all she seemed inclined to do. She was about to be a mother and needed a brand new start. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she opened the bedside drawer to pull out the key to her apartment in France but instead of it she found a blanket. Her eyes couldn’t believe the picture they saw as she realised it was the same blanket she had left back in Sebastian’s penthouse.

- My, my, there must be quite a story to go with that blanket. - her blood froze as she turned her face towards one corner of the bedroom to see Mr. Williams sat on her arm chair. - Won’t you tell me?

- Get out. - she held tightly onto her pillow, fear installing itself in her whole being?

- No? Alright then. - he grinned darkly. - I will tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a man who was deeply in love with a beautiful young woman. He used to sit in the box of her operas every single night just to hear her sing and all was well ... But, one day, the beautiful woman shows up engaged to a mob boss. He quickly understood that in this world love is meaningless and all that matters is power so, he decided that he was gonna get as much as he could and maybe win the woman as a treat too. He planned everything, he had her unborn daughter’s safety put in risk knowing the young woman would rush to his employer for help. He thought that surely offering his employer the only family that stood in his way would make him overcome with joy and he would finally promote the man to the type of power he wanted. However, the employer instead decided to make sure that family would never stand in his way by ensuring his son would marry the young woman’s precious daughter. The man knew his only way to power was if that daughter disappeared so he decided he would kill her yet when he tried the beautiful young woman stood in the way and he couldn’t finish the job.

- Why are you telling me this?

- The father of the young woman’s daughter grew worried that his precious little daughter would be harmed again so he made an orphan baby pass out as his daughter to ensure she would never be harmed. However, the father was much too weak to completely give the baby up and instead kept her around as a handmaid. The man thought power was just on the horizon but then at a masquerade he saw the eyes of the same woman he loved controlling the man who held the power he deserved. And so, I lived unhappily ever after.

- You’re lying. - she could feel her heart pound harder as she felt into an abyss of existentialism. What do you do when you see that who you think you are isn’t what you think you are.

- I knew I would have to get some concrete proof so I asked a few favours. I knew Michael Forrest wouldn’t leave his only child, his only daughter completely penniless and so when I saw your name as the sole benefactor of his will I had my proof.

- But Dan ...

- Daniel Forrest is nothing but an affair gone wrong whom he took pity on but you ... you were born more powerful than I have ever been. Not only are you the sole benefactor of a whole entire family’s work and prestige, you also were born rich enough to never work a single day on your life. Everything was given to you and you didn’t even know it while I paid and I suffered only to see that petulant man child grab the spot that I rightfully deserved. - Y/N looked at her door hoping Elias would be there to help her out, she really hoped someone would pass be. He had to be lying, he had to be lying. - Here is how you’re gonna pay me if you were to have what you so want. No one will believe you, a pregnant mistress who isn’t even smart enough to dispose of her own pregnancy test and your daddy would never allow you to be married to someone from the Stan family, but with me on your side, with my evidence, they will listen. When you are married, you will make me a personal adviser and you will put forward my good name and I shall manage that clueless little man child who should’ve never been born in the first place.

- He’s not clueless. - her voice was low but full of intention.

- And who are you? How are you gonna rule two mob families if you can’t even piece together who your parents were even with me giving you clues. Best give it to me, that way both of us will have exactly what we want.

- No. - she stood up from her bed, looking him down from where he was standing much to his surprise. - I couldn’t defend my mother from you but I will protect Sebastian.

- Well, birdie ... - his hand grabbed something from his side and as it hit the light, Y/N realised her was holding a gun in her direction. - Who will protect you?

- Please, don’t do this. - she pleaded. - I ... I told Sebastian not to be harsh with you, I helped you, I was kind to you.

- Kindness doesn’t get you anywhere in this business. - he noticed her eyes on the door and chuckled. - Your bodyguard thinks you’re in the bridal suit, no one is gonna come looking for you. Now, you’re gonna be a good girl to me and go with me to the car or I’ll make sure they find your bodyguard in a pool of his own blood.

He got up from his seat and rushed to her, putting her in front of him, one hand gripping her arm while the other one held the gun against her spine. She could feel her heart beat and flashes of everything she had done since she remembered living. Was she gonna die? Was this how she ended? Nevertheless, there was nowhere she could go as he led her drown the stairs and onto the lobby, stopping as he noticed the telephone on the entrance table. He turned her harshly towards the desk until her ribs hit the edge and before the assistant could say anything, he pointed his gun at her.

- Sebastian always thinks he has everything under control, I’m about to show him just how wrong he is. - he ordered the woman to type in a number on the hotel’s phone before grabbing it himself. - If you want this lovely lady not to have a bullet in the middle of her eyes you are gonna tell him you’re pregnant and how scared you are.

He shoved the phone against her ear, hurting her in the process and she could feel her tears burn the brim of her eyes yet again as the loud beeping played around and around before he picked it up, a rather upsetting hello coming through. She, however, couldn’t say anything which quickly changed as he pressed the gun against her back rather forcefully.

- Go on. - he whispered against her ear as Sebastian said another hello on the phone.

- S...Sebastian, it’s Y/N ... - the gun pressed harder on her back. - I’m scared, Sebastian. I’m scared.

- Are you alright?

- Now, don’t play games with me Y/N. Go on ... tell him

- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.

- Angel, whatever it is, you can tell me.

- I’m pregnant.

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matildaofoz · 4 years

Text

Happy Deathday Pt. 1 (Vampire!Michael x Reader)

Morgan Freeman Voice-Over: "...and while she had had every intention of finishing the chapter, she didn't. Inspiration is a fickle thing and our dear author knew that such things could not be rushed."

A/N: You heard the man. To further heighten the suspense, I decided to post the first part of this for now. The second part will be coming, don't worry but I need more time and maybe another rewatch of AHS...

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Angst, Blood, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol

Word Count: 5.1K

You woke up gingerly, the morning sun peaking through your blinds, tickling your nose as you turned to the other side, in a desperate attempt to continue your slumber. It was your birthday and ever since you had gotten to know Michael Langdon, Vampire extraordinaire, several years ago, birthdays had begun to mark an ever growing sadness. Truth be told, the first two years were spent in a dizzying bliss, unable to quite comprehend how someone as powerful and magnificent as Michael could be enamored with somebody of your...well insignificance. A chance encounter at a gala dinner hosted in the name of some holier-than-thou philanthropist you were sent out by your editor-in-chief to cover, had lead you unwittingly into the arms of the most dangerous being on this planet. That philanthropist turned out to be Michael Langdon.

How he hadn't killed you and drank you dry when he had caught you sneaking into one of the private offices upstairs in the hopes of digging up some dirt, he never revealed. He only said that your brazenness, your fire to find the truth and your unapologetic nature had caught him off guard and so instead of disposing off you as he knew how, he had invited you over for dinner the following weekend. You caught on relatively quickly that there was something otherworldly about the man with hooded icy blue eyes, set in a face so magnificent it was hard to look at him too long. He was irresistible in appearance and character, always a witty remark thrown your way when you tried to pry information from him over a dinner you would never forget. You had needed to satisfy your curiosity and solve the puzzle he presented and Michael needed, no wanted to spend time with someone who didn't eat up his every word out of his plump lips like they were starving for his approval. You did none of that and it made Michael feel almost human to have an adversary of sorts. Your little cat and mouse game culminated in you walking in on him uninvited several weeks later, or so he let you think, while feasting on a recently elected young and energetic politician, straddling her convulsing form on the dining table. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched, teeth sunken into the woman's neck to the bone, as you stood, simply watching with wide eyes. He could see you put the pieces together in that exquisite little brain of yours, lips apart and your heartbeat so deliciously erratic at the scene he had painted just for you. He was rather dramatic, you had to admit.

When you whispered out despite the horror coursing through your veins: “You're a fucking vampire, I knew it!” He groaned, tearing the woman's jugular and coming to sit back on his knees atop the table, the lifeless body of the politician straddled between his thighs, his erection straining painfully against the tight fabric of his black pants. Your gaze on him, indulging the beast he was underneath the angelic appearance, made him harder than he had ever been. Oh he wanted your blood, so sweet, pumping so deliciously beneath your skin but he didn't want to drain you like he had the woman just then who's name he had already forgotten. He wanted you and had for some time now and the urge became overpowering. He grinned at you, blood dripping down his chin, knowing that he had at last found what had been missing from his eternal monotony for so long.

Ever since that night, where Michael had pressed you up against the edge of the dining table after you had solved his little puzzle as he wanted you to - and after very little hesitation on your behalf - had fucked you raw next to the corpse, you had been lost to Michael Langdon in more ways than one. There must have been something very wrong with you to begin with, you often mused in the weeks and months after that fateful encounter but every time Michael's number lit up your phone after a long day in the office and every time he touched your burning skin, made your body sing in a way you never wanted anyone else but him to do, you cared less and less of what the world might think.

Your unholy relationship evolved as the seasons came and went and you came to imagine a life with him, as pathetic as it may sound. You knew that you were painfully mortal and your life was but a brush on the canvas to him. Michael knew, and he did everything to spoil you, taking you on vacations to places you had never dreamed of seeing, showering you in expensive gifts and finery. You always told him that while you appreciated his gifts wholeheartedly, what you ultimately wanted was him, the beast and the man and his unbeating heart constricted as he knew that what you should want, nay deserved was the one thing he could not give you.

The topic of how vampires were created came up last year around your birthday, you remembered, rolling around in your bed, thinking back to the conversation:

“So, if one wanted to create vampires, how exactly would one go about that? Purely journalistic interest,” you questioned feigning innocence, your fingers curling a lock of the blonde vampires hair around your fingers. You were seated across Michael's lap on one of his big plushy velvet red couches in the living room, a silken bed sheet draped across your abdomen, a fire blazing in the firepit on the far side of the room the only illumination. It was rare the two of you got to spend a weekend together and you made the most of it by letting him defile you on every surface in the penthouse at his leisure, not that you complained. You were still aching from round 4 of that evening. His fingers drew lazy patterns over your bare shoulder, a smirk making its way across his kissable lips.

“Purely journalistic, of course” he chuckled reiterating your words, his hand coming to cup your cheek in his large palm, the cool metal of his rings a welcome reprieve against your flushed skin.

“That's nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Michael whispered, lips close to yours, ghosting over the sensitive flesh. The words made your stomach drop. Whenever you vaguely hinted at the process, the possibilty, he tried to steer the attention away from the subject, using your neediness for him against you. Not this time. With a huff, you disentangled yourself from his chiseled form, pulling the sheet up around your bare chest and walking over to the fireplace, watching as the flames licked at the wood logs.

Michael watched you, his mind racing behind his stoic facade. He didn't want you to bring up the delicate topic but not for the reason you thought.

“You know, it's cruel what you do to me,” you whispered.

“Cruel? How am I cruel to you, (Y/N)? Do I not satisfy your every need, every desire?” Michael retorted, his demeanor changing from one second to the next at your words, stinging him deeply. You were the cruel one in that moment, using his heightened emotions against him knowingly and you regretted it as soon as the words passed your lips.

In an instant he was behind you, hands grabbing your hips to whip you around to face him. The tension had been building up over the last weeks and you both knew that sooner or later they would come to explode. A little voice in the back of your heard feared he might just end your life right then and there that you had finally pushed him too far with your incessant prying. He was positively feral, icy blue eyes swallowed by darkness, inky black veins marbling his cheeks. His true form still made your heart beat furiously, that primal nature in you screaming to run. You had long stopped listening to that side you of. You were the moth and he was the flame and he could burn you to a crisp.

“Yes and no, of course you give me everything I want, more than I want or even ask of you. You know damn well what I mean, Michael!” you shot back, angry tears you didn't know had been hiding behind your (Y/E/C) eyes shooting into the corners, threatening to spill. You breathed hard against his broad chest, not willing to back down, staring down the monster before you, tempting the beast.

“Why must you ask of me what I cannot give you, Angel?” he said, black eyes staring into yours, his iron grip on your hips becoming painful. It didn't stop the lust begin to pool between your thighs and Michael could smell it, taking a deep breath, his eyes falling shut at the intoxicating aroma and his forehead came to rest against your own.

“I swear you will be the death of me. Why you have the hold you do on me, I do not know but I don't ever want to let you go,” he rumbled, his cock twitching against your belly in response to your arousal.

“Then don't, Michael,” you whispered, lifting your hands to clutch his face and making him open his eyes to look at you.

“You know when I lie. Tell me I'm lying when I say I want to be like you,” you continued, sensing a break in his impenetrable exterior when it came to the matter of him turning you. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, his golden locks tickling your collarbone.

“I know you mean what you say, Angel. But how can you be so sure when you don't even know what it is you're signing up for?”

“What, the blood, the killing? I think I can handle it,” you countered, thinking back to the many nights you watched him stalk, hunt, eat and sometimes kill his latest victim. It never became easier but you got used to it. It was simply the way things were in Michael's world and it had become a part of yours, for better or worse.

“No, not the killing. I know you'd be a natural,” he smiled, fangs gleaming in the warm glow of the fire.

“It's what gets taken from you. Once I make you like me, you will stay as you are now, frozen in time. You will never feel the joy of having a family, the people you love around you slowly wither away and die,” he explained, pain evident in his voice.

“So you'd let me wither away and die, Michael? It's just not fair!” the tears that you had held back flowed freely down your cheeks now, your hands pushing at his chest. The thought of you growing old and dying, while he stayed as ethereal as he had been for the last 4 odd centuries made your heart constrict. You didn't want to be a blip on his eternal radar, you wanted more. Your feelings had blossomed from a pure animalistic lust and a near certain death wish at the hands of the blonde vampire before you if only it meant he would fuck you like he had that first night, into a deeper admiration for the man. You loved him, in your pathetic human way and it showed. In the way your chest heaved, those glossy tears staining your pretty face.

Michael let go of you, not baring to watch the pain he caused you. He was so close to giving in to your wish. Like he hadn't spent countless nights mulling over the prospect of turning you when you were occupied with your day job at the newspaper or lying next to him asleep after he had driven his tongue and cock into your weeping cunt, utterly spent. He was so close to biting his wrist, forcing it over your pretty little mouth, making you to drink his blood and then draining you dry. His cock grew exceedingly hard against his stomach at the image of you becoming immortal at his hand. And yet, he couldn't, not yet. Not until he was sure that this was what you wanted, that you knew what eternity at his side entailed. He had to give you the chance to reject his offer. He would let you go, live the life he wanted you to lead, perhaps while staying with him for as long as you wanted him. In his eyes, it was not he who held the power but you.

“If that is what you really want, Angel, I will consider it,” he rumbled, his hand coming to brush through his hair begrudgingly, his back to you. How you manged to make him change his mind, he couldn't fathom. Your head shot up, eyes glinting at his admission and a smile spread over your lips. Your arms slung themselves around his torso, your wet cheeks pressing into his shoulders.

“Thank you, Michael. I'll do whatever it takes to show you that I stand by my choice,” you mumbled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“There is in fact something you can do right now, the rest we'll talk about tomorrow,” he smirked.

His hands took yours and placed them on his evident erection, hissing at the contact of your slim fingers you wrapped all too willingly around his hard cock. You giggled, one hand coming to glide over the flushed head, already leaking precum.

You were pulled out of your daydream and back into the present when your phone buzzed. Michael.

You smiled. Speak of the Devil.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, the phone pressed to your ear and you rolled onto your back, the sheets around your hips.

“Good morning Angel, happy Birthday,” Michael's deep voice traveled through the phone, making you sigh. You'd never tire of the deep timbre.

“G'morning. You're up early,” you remarked with a small chuckle.

“Actually, it's still dark here. I've been up all night, finalizing the contracts,” he responded. Michael had flown out to Chicago at the beginning of the week to orchestrate some takeover or other. Considering he was over 4 centuries old, he still handled almost all of his business endeavors, appearing only as an enigmatic faceless investor from what you had gathered.

“True, I'm sorry, still a little groggy. Will you make it for tonight?” you asked, rubbing some sleep out of your eye and stretching on the bed, phone between your ear and shoulder as you waited for his reply.

The past year had flown by quicker than you wanted and Michael had made you reconsider at every opportunity he got. You had remained steadfast through his repetitive questions of whether you were sure. He would gauge your reaction when a mother with a small child would pass by the two of you on the street. He insisted you spend time with your family and friends, telling you in no uncertain terms that would he turn you, you could not trust yourself around the people you cared about for a long time, perhaps never for as long as they were alive. Your increase in visits to your family out of state did raise eyebrows and your mother thought you were hiding a terrible secret like a terminal cancer diagnosis from them. When she confided her worries to you, you couldn’t help but laugh, not sure if the flipside of what was really going on was any better. You eventually convinced your family that nothing was wrong and that you were just missing them. And you did. Yet still, you had made up your mind about what you wanted.

“I'm not sure I will. I'm sorry, Angel. I will let you know as soon as I am done here and on the plane. Just have fun today. Your mother is in town after all. You two ladies enjoy yourself, you have my card, don't you?” Michael replied, a tiredness apparent in his voice despite the small smile you could hear. At his words, you looked over at the night table, the sleek black credit card laying on top the latest novel you were currently entertaining yourself with while Michael was away.

“Yeah, I do. I will and I hope those idiots get that deal over the table quickly. I've missed you,” you said, one hand coming to toy with the tie on your silk sleep shorts. He loved the fabric and you didn’t mind indulging in the luxury he offered so freely. Michael's chuckle rang through the speaker as he imagined just how much you had been missing him.

“I've missed you too. Listen, Angel, I've got to go, my team is holding on the other line. Enjoy your Birthday, I'll see you soon,” he said, something unspoken in his tone as he ended the phone call, leaving you with your hands down your shorts. You contemplated on whether you should finish what you started but decided against it when your phone started vibrating again. It was your Mother.

“Good morning, Darling! Happy Birthday! Oh, I'm so excited we get to spend the day together. It was so nice of Michael to fly me out to you first class. I'm in the cab right now, I'll be there in 40,” your mother's cheery voice bubbled out the speaker, making you smile. It was awfully nice of Michael to fly her out, when he had insisted on staying out of your family life for the most part of your relationship.

You guessed your primal urges after having heard Michael's voice first thing in the morning would have to wait.

“Hey mom, I didn't know you'd already landed. I'm just hopping in the shower now. See you in 40!” you swung your legs out of bed and got ready.

°°°

The day all but flew by, the two of you truly indulging yourself against your mother's insistence that Michael had already spent more than enough. As the day past, a heaviness settled in your stomach when the time grew close for her to head back to the airport. In the cab, you leaned your head against her shoulder, her hand coming to stroke over your cheek lovingly.

“Are you alright, honey? You seem different, is everything OK between you and Michael? Are you fighting?” she asked, concern crossing her features.

“No mom, we're not fighting. We're good. I don't know, it's just so nice that you came to spend the day with me,” you laughed, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes.

“Of course, it's my baby's Birthday and when Michael offered, I couldn't refuse. It been so nice to spend more time with you lately and I'm glad that he thinks it's important that my high-flying journalist daughter comes back home now and then and that he wants you to spend time with your family. He seems to be making you very happy and that's all that matters to me, Sweety,” your mother cooed. In the beginning, she had tried to pry information from you about the man that had swept you off your feet and was unsure of his intentions with you at first, fearing that you had managed to attract a sugar daddy of sorts. You tried not to go into the details, for how could you explain your vampiric lover to her? When your relationship progressed from months to years however, she felt that whatever this man was doing to you, you were thriving and happy. You satisfied her need to know more about him with the odd instagram picture of your vacations and day-to-day life.

“He makes me incredibly happy, mom. You have no idea,” you mumbled, leaning into her touch.

“I'm so proud of you, you know. All grown-up, a gorgeous man by your side, I can already see my cherubic little grandchildren running around the backyard,” your mother said, a gleeful expression on her face. At her words, you winched, your thoughts coming back to the situation at hand. You looked up at her, biting your lip. You couldn't tell her that kids were not on the list when it came to Michael or you for that matter.

“Don't start this again, please! Not on my birthday,” you groaned and rolled your eyes, a chuckle in the back of your throat, trying to ease the lump that had formed.

“Fine, fine. I guess I can't have it all, just yet. I'm patient, though,” she chided, waving a finger at your in mock seriousness.

“Yeah, yeah, mom. Look we're here already,” you replied with a smile, hiding your disappointment at the end of her visit, your eyes taking her in. Something told you that you should memorize her features, the face that you had looked up to all your life. Your mother sensed your sadness and took your hands, squeezing them.

“Oh, don't you start blubbering now. It's been such a nice day and I'm sure you can get a weekend off work and come down to spend the day with us, perhaps Michael can finally join?” she reasoned, her own eyes welling up with tears.

“Yeah, I'll see what I can do and I'm sure Michael will come along some time,” you responded, pulling yourself together. Before the moment between the two of you would end in tears, you got out the car and around your mother's side to open the door. What had gotten into you?

You mother exited the cab and engulfed you in a hug only a mother could give. Your arms came around her back and you clung to her, taking in her perfume and basking in the familiarity of it for a moment before you detached yourself from her and took a deep breath, a shaky laugh escaping your lungs.

“I'll take you to the check-in. Michael hasn't texted yet when he'll be there and I have ti-,”

“Oh, no, no, no darling, please. You take the cab back to the city. Enjoy the evening, maybe draw a bath and read a book before Michael gets there. I can take care of myself,” she countered. Always looking out for others, you mused and you loved her for it. You had to admit, as much fun as it had been, you were dead on your feet, not used to walking across the whole of NYC, sight-seeing with your mother.

“Fine, but you text me when you get to the gate and when you land, ok?” you demanded, kissing her on the cheek.

“I will, I will. No go on and say thank you to Michael from me!” She ushered you back to the cab, throwing a kiss your way as she made her way into the terminal. As the cab pulled away from the curb, you watched as she entered, turning around to wave at you. You waved back forcing a smile, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. You hated goodbyes.

°°°

On the way back into town, you decided you would rather spend the night at Michael's place, who had not texted you yet and you began to suspect that he would not make it back to the city that night. At least you could sink into the sheets and fall asleep enveloped in his scent. He also had a rather elaborate bathroom with a freestanding clawfoot bathtub. Your mother's words rang in your ears: a bath might just be what you needed. You gave the cabdriver the directions to Michael's penthouse.

°°°

*Beep!*

The private elevator doors slid open as you swiped the keycard over the reader. You stepped inside and pressed the only button on the panel. 30 seconds later, the doors opened up into Michael's penthouse entry hallway.

Your phone buzzed.

I see you're making yourself comfortable.

I hope your day was good.

Sorry I couldn't text you any sooner, just heading to the airport now.

Will be there in 2 hours.

Of course his security system would alert him to you swiping your keycard, you smirked.

Always watching, are you?

Stalker.

You replied, giggling as you made your way into the apartment, taking off your jacket and shoes.

I never lose sight of my prey.

Your cheeks began to flush at his reply. The deal must've gone down well. You decided on what reply would rile him up the most as you walked into the bathroom, turning the lights on to the dimmest setting. Deciding the best course of action was to meet him head on, you quickly stripped out of your clothing, separating the matching black lace underwear set from the pile and draping it over the edge of the bathtub before snapping a picture and sending it to him.

Just you wait, Angel. You could practically hear his sultry promise through the text.

You began to fill the bathtub with warm water, adding a bath bomb from the cupboard. You didn't have many of your things at Michael's place but you insisted on having a supply of them stashed in one of the glossy cabinets, seeing as you only had a shower in your apartment and loved to soak in the tub after Michael had finally let you out from under him.

That warm tingle was starting to creep up between your thighs again. It had only been a week without Michael touching you and yet you were positively brimming with excitement at the prospect of him being here soon.

Boarding the jet now.

Don't. You. Move. Angel.

Oh, you didn't intend to move a muscle until he came through those doors.

Maybe I'll start without you ;)

You replied, snickering as you stepped into the tub and groaned at the blissful warmth of the water against your skin.

Angel...

Came his reply almost instantly.

You decided to grace his threat of things to come, and you were positive both of you would be doing a lot of that, with no response. Maybe you were a little mad under the surface that he had not made an exception and came back a day earlier. You knew full well that his team could handle a takeover on their own.

Maybe he has decided against turning you, maybe this is his way of backing off, hoping you get the message, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut at the intrusive thought. No, if he was no longer interested, he would have told you, he owed you that. Yet you couldn’t shake the sense that he had been growing distant these past couple of weeks. Suddenly, 2 hours seemed like an impossibly long time to kill. It was as if an invisible noose was placed around your neck, and him coming back on your birthday would be the day where he had had enough of you, that noose coming to strangle your vision of the future.

Suddenly the warm water was no longer relaxing, instead the steam rising from the surface threatened to choke you. Maybe you had it all wrong and he was right. How could you know what you really wanted? How could be sure? Anger and frustration bubbled up inside you at the impossibility of the situation. Nothing was easy when it came to the vampire. Well, perhaps the sex.

You had only had a mimosa for brunch with your mother, not trusting yourself to to get tipsy and blurt out an unfortunately worded reply to her multiple questions of how Michael was doing and what he was up to.

You looked at the time on your phone on the bathtub side table. You had just over 90 minutes to kill before Michael would be here. Maybe some liquid courage in the form of a glass of wine would help you maneuver the contradicting thoughts in your head.

You got out the bath, dried yourself off and threw on the bathrobe hanging on the wall next to the marble sink, before stalking into the enormous open plan kitchen, where Michael always kept a few bottles of wine for whatever occasion might present itself.

You fingers flitted over the bottles, unsure of what to pick, not that you really had an idea of what was good. Knowing Michael, all of these would be. With a shrug, you grabbed one of the bottle necks at random, stopping yourself before you drove the corkscrew into the bottle. Maybe you should check the price of this. You googled the label, instant regret on your face, your eyebrows shooting up into your hairline. $180. Well, fuck me sideways, you thought, biting your lip. A moment of completion had you regarding the bottle. Screw it. With a satisfying plop, you uncorked the bottle, pouring a generous amount into a wine glass you had grabbed from the cabinet. Not wanting to drink in silence and ruminate further, you took the bottle in one hand, glass in the other and made your way over to the large sofas. Setting down the bottle and glass on the mahogany couch table, you grabbed the remote and began flicking aimlessly through the channels. You settled on a recent remake of Frankenstein, with an actor who's name you couldn't recall. Not that it mattered. Anything to take your mind off running in circles.

Soon, you were engrossed in the movie more than you cared to admit, your glass suddenly empty as you lifted it to your lips. With a shrug, you poured another glass, melting into the push upholstery. You lost track of time and how many glasses you had poured, the bottle nearly empty when the elevator pinged, sleek brushed aluminum doors sliding open to reveal Michael, dressed in a black suit that clung to him in all the right places, the equally black shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal a slither of his broad chest. You craned your neck over the tall backrest of the couch at the sound, only the top of your head and eyes visible. He met your gaze, a smirk forming in the corners of his mouth.

Tag List: @sexwon131 @leatherduncan @rocketgirl2410

#michael langdon x you #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon #vampire!michael

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

White Lies || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ Can you do 10&13 with tommy please? I obsessed with your writing” (Thank you honey, hope this won’t let you down ♡ )

Summary: n.10 & 13 from prompt list: “I swear to God, I’ll blind you” + “Don’t leave” Warnings: swearing, May Carleton insert, basically jealous reader, Tommy being the absolute cocky bastard he always is, me loving him even more

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, May appears in this piece too, even if she’s never been his lover. Is Tommy Shelby going to generate a mass murder with his cock? Maybe.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your sugar paper dress in lace and tulle gracefully fluttered in the wind, as you walked towards the Garrison, head up, a kind smile on your face and your right arm firmly placed on John’s left one. That same morning, Tommy’s new horse had won his third race in a row, for which reason the Shelbys had decided to have a little party at their pub, so that they could celebrate those amazing successes with their friends and closest fellows from Birmingham, seizing, at the same time, the opportunity to show to the whole town how the family was getting more and more powerful. Therefore, Finn, Michael and John were now escorting you and Polly to the tavern, where the rest of the Peaky Blinders had already got the festivities started. “If you ever get tired of Tommy, keep in mind that I’m here waiting for you, darling” The middle brother playfully whispered those flirty words into your ear, even though he was truly enchanted by the way you looked that night; you immediately glimpsed in his direction, seeing him keep an alluring smirk on his wonderful face and a toothpick held between his rose lips, just like always. A genuine chuckle spilled from your mouth because of his joke, a slight blush instantly covering your sweet face, while your lips promptly left a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny, we can keep it as our little secret” You blinked at him, still giggling out loud, as you entered the Garrison arm in arm, finding a whole crowd of half-drunk people joyfully cheering for the increasing greatness and fortune of the Shelby Brothers Limited. “And that’s Thomas’s definition of small refreshment?” Polly’s usual sarcastic tone prickly referred to the massive amount of guests your fiancé had apparently invited; she lit a cigarette, carelessly throwing the used match on the floor, before her free forearm fondly stretched out to Michael, in a silent invitation to accompany her towards the table where Arthur had already made himself comfortable. Finn, on the other hand, immediately spotted Isaiah amidst the throng, for it took him a scant moment to literally run in his direction, eager as he was to finally spend a night out with his best mate, forgetting about work for a while. “Would you mind helping me find your perennially busy brother, mh?” You asked John, since you were now alone, standing at the entrance like two complete idiots, withouth a clue about what to do next. “Why don’t you come home with me instead?” His eyebrows quickly raised and lowered several times, in an intentionally droll attempt to make that indecent proposal sound tempting, his usual cocky smile never leaving his face. “Oh, shut up now!” you heartily laughed, jokingly punching his shoulder in the process “Let’s just find him, and then you’ll look for a pretty girl to dance with”

“No need to look for girls, love, they throw themselves at me” Your almost-brother-in-law defiantly stated that, while adjusting his houndstooth suit in one swift move, his large shoulders lifted along with his lower lip, giving life to an expression of pure smugness, which esponentially boosted when he found his way to the middle of the pub, performing his usual, cheeky, extremely bold walk. John’s lean and solid body shielded yours as you passed through that enormous amount of people, until you eventually reached for the cluttered counter; your watchful eye immediately caught Tommy’s figure standing with his back turned, a loving grin inadvertently springing upon your red lips, for he had left early that morning without waking you up, and, although it may seem corny, you had shamelessly missed him. Nevertheless, your jaw nearly dropped when, taking a few more steps in his direction, a beautiful woman entered your line of sight: she was talking to him, her clearly infatuated stare burning with desire, one of her palms randily caressing his bony cheek, but the worst part was that Thomas didn’t make a single move to stop her, he just stood there, listening to what she was saying, letting her pet his face. “Oh, fucking hell” John muttered, foreseeing a catastrophic epilogue to that risky situation, indeed, he was perfectly aware that you had no idea of who May was, moreover he could plainly tell she was without a doubt attracted to his brother, which meant no good, considering that you were in the same country as her. Still, before he had the chance to stop you from doing anything, you had already covered the gap between you and them, approaching your fiancé and heavily tapping on his shoulder covered by an elegant black jacket.

Tom’s icy eyes imperceptibly widened as he turned to you and realized how misunderstandable that scene could look; however, within a fraction of a second, he composed himself and regained all of his customary confidence, curving his mouth into an impertinent smirk and placing a hand behind your back, so to guide you in front of the mysterious lady. “Oh, you must be y/n, Tommy’s told me a lot about you! I’m May, May Carleton” Her falsely excited voice brusted out, preceding both of you, and that alone could’ve been enough to set you off, you were aching to ruthlessly punch her in the face, right there and then, yet your strong common sense led you to simply send her a long, eloquent death glare. “Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you, not a word” Perceptible hostility towards that woman infected your tone, still, while you spat that rancorous reply, your killer attention was utterly focused on Thomas, who, for his part, kept looking at you with amusement, blatantly revelling in your jealous little scene. “I didn’t have a chance to” His husky voice nonchalantly spilled from his full lips, whereon he was unchastely sliding a cigarette filter, his piercing black pupils continued to defiantly nail yours as he aimed to provoke you with that silly, senseless remark. Teeth sinking into the warm flesh of your inner cheek, while you tried your best to avoid a beastly outburst in front of everyone; sadly, hardly any moment later, May unwisely decided to throw more salt on your already stinging wounds. “How funny, I’ve been training your horses for three months now” a galling laugh of mockery eurpted from her throat and, once she was sure she had your attention, you noticed raw mischief twinkling in her brown irises “With excellent results, I might add”

She raised the glass of champagne she was holding, along with a hint of her head in Tommy’s direction, inviting him to make a toast to their incredible series of victories; a shrill tinkle filled your ears when his crystal cup joined hers, almost making your skin crawl, you watched speechless and powerless as a seductive expression deliberately contaminated his stunning features. “Obviously. Nothing but the best for my horses”

You just couldn’t believe your eyes, nor your ears; an alarming amount of emotions assaulting your defenseless mind, as you eventually figured out how many lies he had been feeding you during those past months. Soon after he had brought his first mare at the auction, Tommy specifically talked to you about how many expectations and resources he had placed on that brand new project, to the point of actually enlisting an expensive horse trainer, one of their comrades from France, a man they could trust, he did say. Your brain franticly reviewed all of the episodes in which he had called you to inform that he would’ve been late, for he had to stop by the stables in order to check on his beasts; a grievous boulder growing inside your chest, brutally crushing your heart, at the very thought of what could’ve effectively happened in those evenings, your breathing sharply stopped for endless instants, until you regained control of your body, blinking a few times to stop the world from spinning around you. Not a single world escaped your mouth, you only looked at them for one last time, before you hastened to turn tail and run away from that obnoxious situation. Only then, Thomas factually realized he’d gone too far with you, his vigilant stare followed your silhouette quickly moving amidst that mob of drunken yokels, while he briefly took leave of May, without even glimpsing at her once. Pushing and kicking his way through the crowd, he reached for you when you were practically one step away from the main door.

“C’mon, y/n, wait! Hey, don’t leave” Tom delicately grabbed your forearm in an attempt to hold you back, but, as soon as you saw him touching you, a calamitous rage exploded in your belly, leading you to violently yank your arm away. “Take your hands off me, or I swear to God, I’ll bind you with your own fucking cap!” Eyelids squeezing with autentic ire as you snarled in his face, fiercely smacking his hand several times and managing to get out of his grasp; yet, when you tried to leave the pub afresh, his imposing frame promptly interposed between you and the exit, his left palm firmly leaning against the jamb, so to cover the whole open space and preclude you every possibility to find your way out. “Get out of the fucking way, I said!” Frustration filled your yells, you had recourse to all your strength in a restless effort to shove him off, continuing to insult him and punch his chest, still your blows felt like nothing more than tickling to him. Thomas rolled his orbs and, at the same time, raised both his eyebrows, in a plan expression of his nuisance. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, love” Thomas was perfectly aware that he was being a total asshole, afterall, he had never even thought of May in such a way, but, for some strange reason, he wanted to tease you that night, he wanted to see you detonate. His imperturbable tone, together with his absurd words, totally made you lose your temper, you sensed your knuckles itching to crash with his perfect jaw, again and again and again. “Overdramatic?!” your voice raising of a couple octaves “You bloody bastard! You lied to me, God only knows what the hell’s been going on between you and that bitch. What’s more, you let her fucking flirt with you, in front of me!” Hot tears were now forming in your eyes while you kept shouting till you felt your throat hurt, Tommy simply kept watching you, not daring to pronounce a single syllable, but never changing his stoic countenance, nor moving from the doorway. “You were flirting back, letting her touch you that way, you fucking humiliated me, Thomas! In my place, you would’ve killed any man, without even thinking ‘bout it!” Tom’s look somehow softened as he observed your features contract with anger and sorrow, he knew he had unnecessarily and foolishly hurt you, he only was too proud to say it out loud; so, he kept his mouth shut and just came closer to you, carefully attempting to stroke your shoulders with tenderness. Nevertheless, you were too full of wrath and delusion to let him make it up to you that easily: actually, you desperately needed to cry, your cheeks were flushing with resentment, blind choler streaming in your veins. And, suddenly, a dull smack resounded in your and his ears. You slapped him so hard, that his head automatically tilted in the opposite direction, leaving both you and him speechless for a full minute; Thomas remained in that forced position, frozen, without going back to face you, consequently giving you the opportunity to finally pull him aside. “You don’t fuck with me, Mr. Shelby” That was all that you hissed, then leaving the Garrison and not looking back.

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @mclfoybaby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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the one real thing

title: the one real thing pairing: yoo kihyun/reader genre: baker!au/neighbors!au summary: the deliveryman of the bakery beside her own normally presents himself with a serious expression, trying to get his job done as quickly as possible, but when their bosses start to rival against each other, they are left in a limbo of hidden laughter and new friendships. it’s innocent, it’s sweet and it’s the one real thing in their lives. type: angst/fluff/romance/humor word count: 16,802 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The ways of connecting with people are endless—the phone, an email, a call, physical touch, emotional relations…all matters of being practically touched by the personality of another individual, whether for good or for bad.

Nowadays, in this rushed state of life she constantly goes with, she can connect with individuals in two ways the majority of the time: through her pastries, baked by her own hands, dough sticking in between her fingertips, hands mixing with the utmost desire to please the foodies that exist in the bakery she works in; the second option would be through that window in the middle of the bakery, a bad decision by whoever designed the infrastructure of the bakery…and the one next door. This falls on the fact that there are two rival bakeries placed one next to the other, communicating through a window, practically doing their best to eradicate the existence of their enemy’s bakery, and while her boss’ pride makes her unable to ever cover the window in between the two spots, all in the name of being pompous and stuck up, she doesn’t mind.

How to mind when the only person that accompanies her through her nights of preparing the doughs for the next day is none other than the deliveryman next door? Yoo Kihyun, a man that works far too much for how little he gets paid, who often sports his hair underneath a cap that reads the name of the bakery he works for, most of the time wearing a white t-shirt with jeans, getting on his small motorcycle and delivering as many pastries as he can. Even when the bakers are long gone, he still works on some deliveries—she thinks there are times she has seen him bake, as well, nothing too extraordinarily difficult given that bakers normally left pastries ready to be on the oven, but it took some patience and watchful gaze for the task to be finished excellently.

An ache settles on the lumbar part of her spine, bringing a hiss out of her mouth as she kneads the dough with more force, the hyperlordosis suddenly making itself aware on her lower back, the hollow of her spine something she keeps hidden under her uniform. Not only had it deflated her confidence in her body when she had been diagnosed with it, but it also stopped her from doing plenty of things she loved—going on adventures with her friends, for she can’t stand for too long, or simply standing up while baking, doing the best out of her talent. It’s something a baker shouldn’t be—unable to stand for too long, because no one works while sitting down in that industry. It’s what she hides…or keeps the most secret in her job, the aches that settle on her back, the rigidness of her movements when she works for too long or how she, sometimes, when she is alone in the bakery, has to lay down on the floor and help her back soothe itself with the tough and straight flooring.

Everyone has secrets, she imagines, but hers is not quite as eventful as the one she gets to discover that night. Her ears are blessed by the sound of music, cutting through the silence completed by her huffs of pain, lifting her gaze to look through the window in between the two bakeries, making her presence unknown with the dim lights if Kihyun does not look close enough. Unlike in most occasions, he is not entering from the outside, neither is he wearing his cap only. He has taken it off, actually, sporting a red leather jacket on top of his usual uniform t-shirt. The doors of the cooking section open in a swift motion, almost with a swoosh, dramatically opening his arms as a grand entrance when the beat takes its natural rhythmic elegance.

Like something taken out of an old movie, perhaps in the start of the action part in which the bad guys get away with what they wanted since the beginning, that’s how she would describe the start of the song that she can recognize but can’t quite put a name on until it develops further. Then, the rhythm of the drums has her stopping on her kneading of the dough simply to look at Kihyun snapping his fingers, seriousness taken upon his features as he looks down, an artiste to anyone who doesn’t know him. A smile appears on her features, getting away from the far away kitchen to get a better glimpse of him.

When the guitar joins in, he finally starts to let loose. Kihyun is the type of man to look too uptight, too perfect to be real, so seeing him move his neck to the rhythm of the song, back turned towards her slightly, has her lifting her eyebrows in pure surprise. Only knowing him to certain extent, she thinks they are…acquaintances, as good as they can get with the rivalry in between their bosses, but this side of him is brand new even for someone who barely knows him. His steps are good, not to be misunderstood, taken out of the eighties with Michael Jackson’s voice in the background—

He could have been a back-up dancer back then, bringing laughter up her chest the more she looked at him, suddenly aware of how he starts to sing the song at the top of his lungs.

With electricity in his eyes, his fingers grasp the broom nearby, using it as his microphone as he moves around, letting his red leather jacket fall down his shoulders with his movements, probably practiced in front of a mirror. The title of the song makes itself known rather quickly, with the repetition of Beat It in the lyrics that suddenly has her leaning forward on the window, wanting to see more of this side of the serious Yoo Kihyun she has gotten to know. Also, leaning on something could probably help her case with her back, easing happiness inside her body now that she is not preoccupied about the aches of her body.

The sway of his hips is almost comical, swinging in the air in circles when he turns around with his eyes closed, using his microphone (broom, if she’s being sincere) to sing the lyrics at the top of his lungs. A magical voice, one that she did not expect from him, captivating and enticing the more she listens to him sing the chorus:

“Just beat it, beat it. No one wants to be defeated.” The bent of his hand and his movements suddenly come to a halt when he opens his eyes, ready to give his imaginary crowd what could be the fiercest gaze when he suddenly comes face to face with the woman on the opposite end of the window. His broom falls to the floor messily, his face suddenly growing red when he reaches for his phone quickly and turns off the song quite messily. His lips part at that, running his fingers through his hair and fixing the jacket that had fallen down his shoulders with a shudder in his tone. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb you?”

She leans her elbow on the railing of the window, her hand pressing to the side of her face as she shakes her head. “Not at all,” She admits, suddenly aware of how she has to lean her weight somewhere to feel better. Maybe, she should continue with her back therapy instead of making herself out to be the tough one. “I’m quite impressed. I didn’t even remember that song.”

Kihyun tries to chuckle, but it comes out rather awkward as he runs his fingers through his hair, his nice physique suddenly highlighted by his, the apples of his cheeks lifted when he smiles softly. “Yeah…I thought I was alone…Sorry, you had to see all that—”

“Did you take it out from the music video?”

“Excuse me?” He asks, suddenly getting closer to the window and taking off his jacket, tossing it on top of one of the tables nearby to hear her from up close. Just then, she sees the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, perhaps coming from the heat of his embarrassment.

“The steps, the pushing the doors open scene…I think there’s something like that in the music video.” She retorts, well aware of the fact that this is only making Kihyun more uncomfortable…but it comes from a genuine place of curiousness. She widens her eyes softly, almost innocently, and when Kihyun frowns for a second, he lets the furrow go and releases a soft sigh that welcomes a smile in.

“Yeah…”

“You did great, I mean it. And that voice—where did you even get vocal lessons?”

“I didn’t—”

“And the hip thing. It was so awesome!” Now she’s rambling, perhaps because she has always leaned into the observational part of dancing. She has never danced, to be quite honest, not properly or for long periods of time, pushing the imagery of the aches of her bones away the moment she starts to think about it. It would be nice, for once, to let go and not worry about the consequences later—to stop being so insecure of something that she had not even opted to have and just live for once. It’s not as easy, either way. “How did you do it?”

Kihyun chuckles at that, now all tension dissipating from his body when he crosses his arms over his chest. Something about him has always been beautiful, the sight of him on its own or simply that his personality is enough to capture all the eyes in the room. Caring, soft, gentle, with that edge of him when he gets stressed or upset. Definitely the best of both worlds. “What hip thing? What I did back then was ridiculous.” He downgrades himself, something that she is familiar of, and when she pouts her bottom lip, she releases a sigh.

“You were having fun, Kihyun. That’s never ridiculous.” She settles the matters straight, pulling away from the windows and hearing her bones crack obnoxiously, suddenly well aware that the position had stiffened her and made it difficult to get back into a normal stance. “I wish I could do that.”

“Why can’t you? It’s easy.” Kihyun replies, voice soft when he speaks, eyes gleaming under the golden lights of his bakery. “It’s just…dancing. It doesn’t have to be good; it just has to be felt. Fun, like you said.”

Sometimes, she wonders what would have happened had she not gotten her back problems to care about—maybe, she’d be in culinary school, working with all her might, even more than she does right now, doing her best, living her life…but that is not the case. Always settling for less, she does, even in the dating expense. She feels as though she needs to take what is given to her and not give a damn about it. “You don’t know?”

He shakes his head, taking a good look at her face before whispering: “Should I…know something?”

“I have hyperlordosis, so my back is kind of hollow, I guess that’s the best way to explain it. It creates a lot of pressure on my lower back…which is not helpful when standing or sitting for long. That mixed with a few slipped discs, I was never one to be lucky with my bone structure.” She tries to joke around, though a smile is not welcomed in her home the more she thinks of it. Kihyun is a lively person, deep in his way of living, someone who just looks like he had lived what he needed to and tried what he wanted to. She could not say the same. “…It’s not that I can, it’s just that I feel insecure doing it. What if my bones creak or if it suddenly hurts too much and someone sees me? People judge the dance, not what the dancer must be going through.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Kihyun replies, leaning forward on the window and looking to her sides before giving her a tight smile. “Actually, is there anyone with you in there right now?”

“The guys left…and my boss is rarely here, so…” She whispers, scrunching up her nose at his words. “Why?”

“Let’s dance.”

“What?” She asks in a rush, rolling her eyes and smiling out of irony, turning around and going over to her spot with the now dried dough to keep working on it. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to do the whole Michael Jackson thing you just did. No, I’m just not built for that.”

“Please?”

She looks at him, finally, aware of the beauty of him that she has never been able to forget. After all, even one of her coworkers had the biggest crush on him before letting it go completely. Kihyun’s brown hair is ruffled from how much he had touched it and from the dancing, parted in the middle delicately, face heated and with patches of red, sweet eyes looking at her that could only match the pastries that she bakes early in the morning. Her wide-eyed gaze must have brought that smile upon his features, hands resting on the dough and digging her fingers inside of it before nodding. “Not tonight, though. I owe you the dance and you’ll get to choreograph me.”

The deliveryman seems happy, looking over at her before releasing a laugh, one that shakes his shoulders even when she was the one laughing at him earlier—this is a memory that she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget, not when Kihyun made a stage out of a bakery. “I’ll make sure to think of a good dance.”

“Crack my bones, if you will.”

“I would never do that to you.” Kihyun replies, sneaking out some air out of her lungs without noticing, finding herself looking down and biting down on her bottom lip to release a smile. “Uh…are you going home now?”

“I have to leave the doughs ready and I still need to finish the dough for the bread so…no.” She says rather too quickly, moving her legs back and forth to ease some of the ache there. “Why?”

“I planned on waiting for you…maybe, give you a lift?” He asks, only to have her shaking her head.

“No, no worries. I always catch the bus at nine, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” He questions, suddenly hyperaware of the fact as to why one of her coworkers was so deeply entranced in him. A nod is the only thing she could give him, knowing far too well that her voice would probably be too dreamy for it to be friendly. Kihyun lifts up the helmet he wears when in his motorcycle at that, not aware that he waved goodbye with it as he says the word softly.

“Bye, Kihyun.”

That is the end of it, or so she thinks, bitten by pain and coldness the moment she steps out of the bakery, closing the door after turning off the lights and blowing on the air just to keep herself warm. Her baker uniform is changed for something simpler, a plaid shirt and leggings, nothing interesting or cute, simply something that makes her feel comfortable and hidden. The moon and the lights of the street are her illumination as she steps away from the door to go back home. It’s only then that she gets to hear the roaring of an engine, watching as a motorcycle appears right in front of her, the helmet reading the enemy bakery’s name on it fairly common as the driver speaks to her.

“That ride back home is still up, if you want it…” Kihyun whispers, looking up at the moon for a moment, only showing his eyes from behind the helmet. “I don’t know, I just can’t leave you alone to go home on your own. Besides, it’s almost nine and the bus stop is not too close from here, you won’t get there.”

Her eyes trail over the watch that rests on her wrist, realizing that he is not wrong and that, sincerely, she should just take the ride to get home faster and just lay down for a while and sleep. “I’ll take it, then.” She replies, plopping on the small spot behind him on the motorcycle. She wraps her hands on the box on the back of the motorcycle, clear as day that it is for deliveries.

“Are you safe and sound in there?” Kihyun puzzles.

“Yes,” She says, instructing her address to him in a quick mannerism before hearing him hum.

“Okay. If it gets too hard for you to keep still in there, you can hold onto me.”

She almost wants to scoff, because Kihyun treats her like she is made out of paper, but this completely changes when she starts driving and the wind blows on her hair, quickly grabbing onto his waist and pressing her helmet to his back for reassurance. She swears she hears Kihyun laugh, something less melodious than his singing earlier now that it is thrown towards her, but it is not an uncomfortable position. For the first time in a while, even years, she doesn’t have to walk home alone.

###

When her shift is over, she loves leaving the door of the kitchen open—it makes her feel accompanied, free, as if the bakery is her own and everything becomes dreamy. Sometimes, she’d get a glimpse of Kihyun, as well, or a small conversation that naturally flows after conversating that one night she had caught him dancing, but nothing more happens. A ride home, perhaps a smile here and there, it feels like the blooming of a friendship more than anything. After all, there are matters that they need to care about: their career, and on her case, not to hold too much hope on that supposed dancing class that he wants to give her.

In the mornings and afternoons, however, when her coworkers are there, the people are visiting the bakery and her boss is sometimes hanging around, as well, she likes to keep the doors closed, that way she can concentrate on what actually matters: baking. The heat is insufferable, sometimes leading her to roll up the white sleeves of her uniform, basking on the natural light that seeps through the windows, doing her best to keep time and check the temporizer, not wanting anything to be under or overcooked. The smell of honey and mangos are prominent today, trying out one of the new recipes that her boss had pleaded her to bake and it was going good, until she heard the sound of the doors of the kitchen opening loudly, enough to have her jumping on her spot in front of the oven and widen her eyes at the person in front of her.

Her boss.

Degrading and obnoxiously childish would be the best way to describe her boss because, surprise, she really is both of those adjectives. Choi Haeun, a well-known baker and businesswoman that had put everything and anything on this one bakery, leaving her days of being in front of the oven behind and simply investing on other people working for her. Everything has to be pristine to her, which is not wrong, but she didn’t like spending money for the best of products…much less did she like paying on the exact day towards her workers, no matter how safe she was economically. There was a reason for someone like Haeun to hire her, and it was well voiced out by the older woman, that she was cheap—talented, too, but no one would want a baker or a cook that could not move with expertise, quickly, without complaining of pains and aches.

“Someone stole our recipe!” Haeun exclaims, taking her by the arm just in time for her to turn the oven off and walk along with the older woman. The least she wanted was to have the casually cruel Haeun scolding her for burning her precious kitchen.

Our recipe, at least, Haeun had done something to include her…but she knows better than to trust the woman with the suit and the white head of hair, simply because she had done nothing for that recipe to start with. She doesn’t like to believe that there are recipes that are unique in this point of time; after all, most things have already been tried and a cook only twists things sporadically to add their own flavor to the meal, but Haeun thinks otherwise, much more when she pays no attention to the clients around them, leaning over the window and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Lee Kwangho, you stole my recipe!” Haeun said with certainty, having her eyes inspecting the place to see that she is being looked at, along with her boss, her body brought forward and towards the window for the owner of the other, rival bakery to look at her with a surprised look on his features. “Look at how overworked my poor baker is with the release of our new pastries only for you to be selling them at the same time. And you consider yourself a businessman with that attitude?”

Her eyes settle forward, catching the surprised expression on Kihyun’s face as he stands beside his boss, stopping his movements on holding the box of pastries on his hold to concentrate on the argument. Apparently, Kwangho is not so happy about the allegations, because he immediately rushes towards the window and speaks just as quickly.

“Look at that, you are always taking the credit of recipes that are not even yours. I found it in a blog, just like you did!” Kwangho adds as a matter of fact and she knows the reality of it, mainly because her boss had been the one to send her the link, but her lips part simply to ask for help.

“A-Ah, I think I shouldn’t be here on the first place. Can I get back to—?”

Haeun tugs at her arm a little harshly when she tries to pull away, keeping her in between her and her ex-boyfriend like the daughter they didn’t have. Kwangho and Haeun used to be a couple around the nineties, long ago…over twenty years in the past, and yet they can’t seem to get away from it. “No.” Haeun tells her in a low voice before returning to her confrontation. “So, you admit that you don’t think of real recipes and simply look them up online?”

“There are no real recipes in this world, Haeun.” The man with the long beard adds, something that she nods along to but her boss pays no attention to, speaking through gritted teeth.

“That’s something a fake baker would say.” She replies, opening her mouth to speak even louder. “People who are eating in that bakery, come over to ours, at least we don’t have cockroaches in the kitchen.”

Kwangho frowns deeply, clearly moved by the way she spoke as he retorts: “We don’t have cockroaches. Stop lying. That’s what you always do—”

Why?

Just why?

She tries to get help from Kihyun, mouthing the word just in time for him to let the box rest on the counter before placing his hand on top of his boss’ shoulder.

“Boss, I think you’re making a scene. We should—”

To no avail, Haeun keeps talking over the young man, her chest pressed to her back, asking for too much out of her. She deserved a normal job, a normal boss, the only thing that keeps her there is the opportunity of something better—maybe, this is how every baker starts their life in the industry. “The first cockroach would be yourself, Kwangho. Or should I say the man that slept with another woman while I was away in Rome?”

Kwangho’s ears perk up at that, gleaming in the red color of them when Kihyun tries to tug him bag again, his breath caressing the window uncomfortably, having her move her face away absentmindedly. “…It was a mistake, get over it.”

Kihyun gets in between the window and his boss, extending his arms and speaking a bit louder than his tone. “Get this over and done with, you two. You’re making a scene and putting our clients and your staff in an uncomfortable position.” The seriousness of his tone is almost scary, in the way his chest expands and his nostrils flare, the peacefulness that he brings her enough to have her lungs filled with air when her boss pushes her out of the way, turning around to look at her clients and apologize with a frown over her features. The stomps of her heels towards her office do not match the sound of her door closing with a loud thud. Some people never really get over a messy, toxic relationship, as it seems, much more when the two of them are bad towards one another.

“I’ll apologize on behalf of my boss, please, keep eating.” She says in a soft tone, the silence around the room cut short as people started to talk in between them about the scene that developed just then. Weak, she feels, like she doesn’t belong in such place and she has to bear with it for the sake of her career. For some reason, she feels like she’ll never be good enough to get out of there. Her steps are dragged when she tries to move towards the kitchen, looking over her shoulder and past her worried coworkers to see Kihyun lifting the hand he holds his helmet with waving at her, per usual, though his smile is small, saddened, a bit angry, like he can’t believe the issues that developed just now.

She can’t believe them, either.

The reason as to why she had learned how to bake was quite funny—with burnt thumbs and the stench of equally as burnt food had been her initiation, seeking for something that could be hers in a world of limitations. Lots of free time, she had, all thanks to her own judgement of being unable to live her own life without that shred of embarrassment and now that she is older, she finds the therapeutic side of her work to be the only reason her breathing goes back to normal. Baking is the only place in which she feels like she fully belongs, as if nothing could wrong as long as she is in the kitchen. Solitude is welcome, not wanting to hear anyone as she works through the meals, pushes them on the counter to send them over her coworkers’ way and then, she is off to another baking session.

At some point, she is left alone again, in the same cycle of preparing the dough for the next day. The curtains are now closed, the natural light that normally seeps through the windows, her chef hat long tossed somewhere else, leaving her hair on a low ponytail. Her hands are stained with the usual flour but this time around, the smell of sweet bread on the oven is different. Baking at night is not normally something she does, but out of thankfulness she can only come up with the idea of making something for Kihyun. The man who had read her eyes, wanted to protect her, the reason Haeun did not go further with such an ignorant fight…and really, she doesn’t believe in the concepts of princes that are charming or knights with shining armors…but a reality is a reality. A caring soul, Kihyun seems to be.

Enough for her to notice that he never grabs a bite of anything as he is working, eating something and then leaving it to make his deliveries. Everyone else’s meals are more important than his, as it seems, and this is her way of payment—if he is there, truthfully, she knows that he doesn’t always stay as late as she does, but hoping that he likes the sugar-coated bread should be enough.

Closing earlier and stepping out of the bakery, she is welcomed by the sight of the dark bakery by the side of her own workplace, lively and bright, while his held more of an elegant outlook to modernism. Luckily for her, the lights are on, leading her to push on the door only to let herself inside. Kihyun’s face is practically glued to a notebook, eyebrows drawn together and small lips pouted as he writes something down, perhaps the orders of the day to make sure his boss checks up on them earlier in the morning. All it takes is for her to let the door close behind her to have Kihyun looking up, sending a smile her way as he breathes out her name happily.

It’s enchanting—charming, in a way, to have someone like him going over to her to get closer and establish a conversation. “What are you doing here? Do you want me to give you a ride home? Uh…I haven’t kept track of time, is it past nine?” He asks, already searching for his phone in his pockets when she chuckles softly, pressing the box on her hands to his chest, causing his brown eyes to trail down and connect his gaze to the box.

“I decided to give you a ‘thank you’ gift for saving me from Haeun’s and Kwangho’s post-marital issues.” The simplicity of it all has him grinning, taking the box in between his hands and lifting it up to see some bread, one that he could slice and eat with something sweet just like chocolate or with something interesting like cream cheese. “…And I may have noticed you don’t eat enough during work hours…which is not good, really, you should eat more.”

Kihyun’s lips wrap up in a smile at that, pointing towards the seat across from him when he sits by one of the tables. She follows his steps, taking the seat across from him when he takes a deep breath of the freshly baked treats. “I’d have more food here if I actually got to eat warm, soft, delicious bread. I only get the old pastries.” He tells, already spreading the bread in two parts before trying to give one to her, to which she shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s all for you.”

Kihyun quirks an eyebrow at that, releasing a soft breath when he puts the slice of bread down. “You really are a handful,” He utters, taking a bite of his food before trying to give her the piece once again. With an eye-roll and a sigh, she takes a bite of the slice he had given her, watching how his eyes shine at the mere sight of her eating. “Which, by the way, I was doing some research…and don’t you want to lay down?”

Confusion, she feels almost immediately, accidentally biting on her bottom lip when eating and hissing at the action. She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed when she asks: “Wait, what? Why?”

“Your back, I read it’s worse for you if you stay seated or standing up for too long—”

She smiles at his words, because no one had ever given two shits about what she feels or doesn’t, not that she has ever done the most out of it to tell how she really feels. Instead, she shakes her head. “I’ll be alright, you don’t have to treat me as if I’m made of a paper.”

His cheeks flush at that, shaking his head with parted lips. “I didn’t mean to. Really. I’m sorry—”

“…It’s good, thanks to you I got out of that situation with my boss.” She sighs, moving her legs under her seat when she leans her weight on her elbows over the table. “What do you think they’ll do if they knew we talk?”

“They’d lose it, probably. No, not probably, certainly.” Kihyun adds, laughter in his tone when he leans forward as well, moving his head to the side when he whispers. “We should pretend we hate each other.”

“No, I can’t.” She replies, shaking her head before watching as he slices another part of bread and plops it inside his mouth. “…Should we?”

“I mean…for the sake of our jobs, maybe.” Kihyun replies, shrugging his shoulders before leaning back on his seat. “Haeun is…clearly hurt that my cheating boss is still the only man she has ever gotten to love, it’s clear.”

With a gasp and yet, interest in his words, she slaps his arm softly from over the table. “Kihyun!”

“I mean it!”

“I know!” She replies, lowering her voice to a whisper so they can talk to each other, even when they are alone. “…I mean, talking in between us both here, who do you think had the blame in between the two?”

“Kwangho, definitely.”

She puckers up her lips, the bite on her lip making it difficult to do so. “Yeah, but Haeun is…I mean…she needs to get over him, too. They were crazy the moment they decided to make bakeries, one next to the other.”

“Not so crazy.” Kihyun says, standing up from his spot and closing the lid of his box before grasping the keys that settle over the counter, ones for his delivery motorcycle. “Because had they not built the bakery, I would not have gotten this job and…you know…” He lifts his gaze, sending one of those smiles that reach his eyes towards her. “Gotten to have someone to accompany me to my drive home almost every single night.”

Warmth, that’s something that she had always considered to be Kihyun’s word. He spoke with warmth, lived with warmth, as if he was summer itself. Some people didn’t like it…and even she had considered herself to be someone who liked colder weathers rather than hotter ones, but this thing that he brings upon her in the sense of friendship is not so bad after all.

Voicing it out, she does, when the heat on her face is clear and she grabs the helmet that he tosses towards her. “That makes two of us. I’m also very glad.”

###

It’s fantastic how the world has become so small now with the existence of social media. Planes are not necessary, much less phone calls when the swipe of fingers against a keyboard can make the distance less palpable, laughter more heartfelt, worries of being awkward thrown out of the window and suddenly, creating a pattern—a routine. She had never thought that one day, that number that she had saved as Yoo Kihyun on her phone would be the contact she’d see first in the morning and last at night, that she’d have a companion for when the night is too quiet…even a pin falling to the floor makes a sound along with the roaring of his small motorcycle, pure and static in her memory.

Nonetheless, there is still someone that bites at the back of her brain, that dings a bell and reminds her to stay away from Kihyun. Haeun. What would her boss say if she got to know the reality of their relationship? That, what started as simplistic conversation, had now turned into bravery as she tries to step a foot into flirtation. Sometimes, she’d catch herself smiling at him through that window and trying to avoid the glare that Haeun would send her way. A terrific lullaby, she’d say it is—someone like her could not just lose her job thanks to someone else, much more when Haeun is such a person of power in the baking industry.

No one would ever hire her as a baker…

The thought makes her sigh, seated next to the counter in the kitchen as she inspects the messages on her phone—Kihyun has taken pictures of this cute dog he saw while delivering some of the pastries for the day, and now they are embarking in a conversation of all the pets they’ve had. It’s simple, sweet, it’s realistic, for everything to feel like it’s going smoothly, because that’s the type of person he is. This warmth that he brings, like the moment of settlement after a storm, when not a single thunder rakes through the sky, is what has her back into conversating with him. That, and the clear attraction that she feels towards him, feeling forgiveness for that one person in her team that had been crushing on him a while back.

A smile graces her features, clicking on Kihyun’s picture to inspect him. It was one of the first pictures they had sent each other in the weeks they had been talking, one she had taken of him when laughing after he had dropped her off at her home. Kihyun had a frown on his features, probably from the endless teasing, and a middle finger up in the air that could never compare to the sweetness that followed the picture after that—a smile her way, clearly because he had given up on being the joke of the night and accepting his reality. That night was one of the many where her world had stopped being silent, stiff, achy, and had simply let go.

When she is about to respond to his text, however, she hears the sound of the door closing and she half expects the youngest of the team to be tagging along with her, for he is her pupil of sorts. However, the young man was nowhere in sight when she turns to look at the door, instead being met by Haeun in all her glory. Her hair is put in a bun on top of her head, looking as professional as ever as she nears her with a smile on her face. That is never something good, for Haeun is never the type to enter the kitchen with a smile—it’s always to complain about something, but a smile must mean that she is asking for a favor.

Silently, but she gives him a few seconds before she voices out what really is bringing her there.

Haeun wraps her fingers around the edge of the white hat over her head, putting it in place to cover the small baby hairs on the roots of her hair before clicking her tongue. “Silly, you shouldn’t let your hairs show. You should know this.” She tells her, that familiarity and warmth on her tone one that could never compare to Kihyun’s. It’s not genuine, it feels gut-wrenching if anything, swallowing thickly and nodding her head in favor of her boss.

“Y-Yes, sorry, I must have not tightened it enough.” She replies, already reaching up for the back of her hat and tightening it. Haeun smiles at that, leaning her weight against the counter she is seated by before sighing.

“You know, you should change that. Be more…assertive, in a way. Be braver when talking.” Haeun replies, a jinx with the way she moves around her words before lifting an eyebrow. “Just like how you are when you talk to the deliveryman next door. What’s his name…Kihoon?”

Kihyun, she wants to correct, but her heart is already at the pit of her stomach, having dropped at the mere realization that Haeun is not blind and she has completely caught her staring at Kihyun, perhaps going home with him every single night and having him drop her off. It wouldn’t surprise her, really, if Haeun was able to catch Kwangho cheating back then, she’s perfectly capable of catching her imminent crush. “Boss—Ah, I doubt you’re getting it correctly. I know who he is but we don’t hold any type of correlation towards each other—”

“I know, I know, you’re the most loyal of my team.” Haeun speaks, all too highly because, if anything, she is the least loyal of them. She is the one that has started this friendship with Kihyun, with a second-nature of flirting with each other, and that’s the exact opposite of what Haeun is looking for in this thought that she is about to voice out. “…But Kihoon, he really seems to be into you. That window has served its purpose, I’ve finally found the way that we’re going to stab Kwangho’s business right where it needs to be. The deliveryman likes you, let’s start there.”

It’s not an impossibility, but it’s not confirmed that he likes her—they are just having fun, thus far, planning to go on a date to test the waters of their connection with each other. A date that has not been clearly stated as a date, but two people going out together while flirting and meticulously trying to look better in the eyes of the other sounds like a date. Still, what Haeun seems to be thinking has her frowning and straightening her back on the seat she is on. “I don’t get what you’re saying…Boss.”

“It’s simple, honey.”

“…What is?”

Haeun’s whitened teeth become more prominent with the huge smile she gives her. “I’m asking an eye for an eye here. You give me something, and I give you something.” The sound of that is already difficult to comprehend on its own, but she keeps listening to Haeun. “If you…use your power over the deliveryman to ruin Kwangho’s business in any way, I’m thinking avoiding Kihoon—”

“Kihyun.”

“Same thing.” Haeun shrugs, continuing with her rant. “Avoiding that Kihyun delivers on time, for the matter. That would make a huge difference and people would stop ordering from them.”

“Boss, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She whispers, looking down and jutting out her bottom lip out of pure awkwardness and uncomfortableness. She doesn’t feel at ease, the overpowering existence of Haeun suddenly wanting to manipulate her is the least she needs right now. “I’m—I’m not a good actress at all, I don’t think it’ll be good.”

Haeun pats her shoulder, weight that is not welcomed before she says. “ But…let me tell you about the catch, don’t get too ahead of yourself. If you make their sales drop, I’m going to pay for your dream of culinary school in the school that I went to years ago. They’d be more than happy to have my best baker in there.”

Culinary school, the only place that she has been unable to go, both for monetary and health reasons, and now the idea of being in it is enough to perk her up in her seat. To betray someone simply to get exactly where she wanted, that’s nothing like whatever sin she has committed in the world—sure, she has told white lies, but that could not equal to whatever Haeun is asking out of her. “I don’t think I can do it, still.”

“Do it and I get you to culinary school. Don’t do it and…” Haeun pulls away from the kitchen, walking backwards as the worst words that could escape her mouth touched the thick air. “I’ll see how long I’ll keep you here for. Think about it, honey, not a lot of people would want you in their kitchen…and I’m planning on giving it all for you.” The doors open, her hands grasping the material of her pants to keep her sanity intact, only to hear Haeun chuckle. “I’ll wait for those sales to drop.”

This is the reason as to why, two days later, she can’t even look at Kihyun in the eyes on their date.

A night out drinking—it sounded simplistic enough, something that could lessen all the tensions of the past month of work dealing with insufferable bosses and a lot of late-night laughter from the two of them, mixed with spilled sessions of talking about their biggest worries in the job (or just a night of complaining about the racers that make too much noise in the street). It’s not a club, thankfully, just a bar that Kihyun said frequented when he is looking to let go with his group of friends. Nice music, not too hectic, neither too soft—after all, she is a bit of a sulky drunk—, with love seats and soft cushions on the chairs, nicely decorated drinks and some kind of entertainment, a comedian that is not half as interesting as the red-faced man in front of her, now laughing with more glee, smiling with all the might in the world. He’s infectious and the best kind of it, in a way, Kihyun seems to be having the time of his life as they share a bowl of fries, coated in cheese and a few vegetables, and talking about deep thoughts, embarrassing stories, whatever crosses their heads…

Though, her mind is only filled with masking the insecurity that pools at the back of her brain, hits her badly for ever wanting to go to culinary school and for hiding from him that Haeun, the crazy woman herself, had asked her to betray him, seduce him in a way just to get in between his line of work. Looking at him, listening to him should be a blessing, much more when he has taken off his denim jacket because of the heat and now he’s rambling excitedly about a movie, something that she should have put her input in had she not been completely conflicted.

Kihyun is…well, candid, and real, and not obnoxious in any way but the type to sit anyone down when he doesn’t like what is being told. If he got to know Haeun or worked for her, he would have probably dropped out of the job in a second…but she’s not him. That’s their difference, she realizes, how he takes his drinks with ease and poise, only a bit tipsy while she is already on the highway to hammered with how the rose gold cocktails had her with her vision blurry, mind too clouded with guilt and this weight on her chest.

“…We should have a movie marathon sometime.” Kihyun says, legs parted, the necklace around his neck taking her attention when she looks towards his Adam’s apple, up to his chiseled jawline, his reddened and thin lips, his nicely shaped nose, pretty small eyes and his tussled hair.

“Are you meaning to say you’d go out with me again?” She asks, braver than ever and playing with the edge of her oversized shirt as she says that. The corner of Kihyun’s mouth lifts at that, smirking when he nods his head and finally connects his gaze with her. The drunkenness and the hyperawareness of her active persona when drunk keeps her looking when he says:

“Of course,” He utters, turning on his side until they are face to face. “I’ll tell you something.”

“Mm,” She hums, fluttering her eyes softly at him, trying to capture a picture of how he is with her right now—how he is friendly and nice, captivating in a way, and she is thinking about the possibility of going to culinary school while destroying this man’s career. No, she couldn’t do such thing. “Tell me.”

“I’ve been trying to go out with you since the moment I met you.” Kihyun instructs, bringing a big smile to her face that she can only hide by bringing her cocktail up to her lips and taking a nice, long sip.

“And why didn’t you ask?”

Kihyun snorts at her words. “Did I just have to enter the bakery, ask you out and be like: ‘Hey, from the window I get a good sight of you baking and I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful’?” Those words bring a flutter to her chest and a pang to her stomach. Haeun wants to ruin someone like him, and now it’s clear in his eyes, in the way they glisten and stare at her, in the way his skin forms goosebumps when her hand reaches for the collar of his shirt to fix it from falling down his collarbone, that he really feels something. Attraction, just like her, perhaps something strong, like the tip of the beer that goes down his throat when he leans his head back. “Yeah, no. You were always…in this bubble, almost unapproachable. I said to myself I would do it, but if you hadn’t discovered me dancing to Michael Jackson, I’m sure I wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Kihyun, don’t put me on a pedestal.” She replies, looking up at him and blowing out some air from her lips in the form of a sigh, touching his skin softly, coating his lips in warmth. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. “I’m not…the most dateable person out there, you know. Once you realize how much I stop myself from trying new things just to live in this bubble of mine, you’ll notice I’m not the type of person you want.”

“…I didn’t say you had to change.” Kihyun tells her. “Besides, don’t say shit like that. I’m not perfect at all. I’m obstinate and a perfectionist and I always have something to say—”

“But I like all of those things.”

“And why can’t I like you as you are?” That’s the tipping point, the last thunder in the sky before the rain falls miraculously. Maybe, she had wanted to know him best—to learn the shape of his lips better, the aches on his soul to fix, the memories of him to fill with more and more happiness, or the alcohol was speaking—she is a sulky drunk just like how she is an emotional one, and breaking Kihyun almost feels like breaking a promise. It’s tough, it’s heartbreaking, it’s enough to light a fire in the root of her bones, bring so much electricity to the neurons in her muscles to contract, bring her forward, take the strength she lacks and send a kiss his way in the form of the touch of their skin. It’s not an intimate kiss, but it feels warm—somehow, like she belongs there, like Kihyun hands is supposed to gravitate towards her leg and rub up and down as she softly lets his lips caress hers after taking the initiative.

Though, she’s drunk, and the feeling of him breathing in and out only makes her feel worse because…he doesn’t know in what kind of predicament she is in. Losing her job or losing him. It shouldn’t be complicated, not in that little-street bar, not in the way he holds her, in how suddenly she feels his hands going to her spine and the depth of her back, those spots that she feels the most insecure about and covers with big clothing, and he doesn’t utter a word, doesn’t pull away. He feels her, in soul, in depth, in what is romance. A soft breath leaves her lips, pushing at his chest and laughing against him, closing her eyes tightly as she gets lost in the feeling of him. “I’m sorry, I’m…so fucking drunk.”

“It’s okay.” Kihyun mumbles, chuckling along with her and fixing the hairs around her face, looking into her eyes and when she opens them, she’s welcomed by that smile that she has grown to like. No. Adore. “I never thought you’d do that. Or that you’d be the one to initiate it.”

“I didn’t know I could do that either.” She continues laughing, drinking the last remaining bits of her cocktail before settling the glass down. Kihyun is still looking at her, she can feel it, but what completes the masterpiece of them is when Kihyun’s hand reaches for hers and interlocks their fingers together, breaking her apart more than she is supposed to do to him.

Silence settles around them. She spares him a glance and he looks at her from the corner of his eyes, the apples of his cheeks lifting until he trails his gaze down. He reminds her of confidence, something that she hasn’t had in a while—if ever, actually, and if being brave is being with Kihyun, she wants to do just that.

###

“One day, I’ll bake something for you.”

Her chest vibrates with a laugh, elbows resting on top of the railing of the bridge they had just come across of, part of their walk together after a dining date. “…Mm, I’d like to see you try. Bake whatever reminds you of me.”

If violins could play in the background, they would, for such complicatedly beautiful scenery could only be found in a bridge like this one, part of their home. The moon seems to touch the lake, a few houses illuminated in the faint distance, some buildings that take most of the spotlight mixed in between there. On the other side of the bridge, the cars pass by quickly, rushing through life like most of us do. She remembers the times in which it was easier to breathe in, as something more than just the necessity of continuing to exist, when there weren’t sins in her head or thoughts to crowd her. The moments in which she was younger, with snacks in her pockets and a smile on her face, rushing towards her friends, not caring about whether or not they were going to think less of her. Sometimes, she wonders if she is nostalgic of what she didn’t have or she’s just seeking for memories of a past she never decided to take part of. Enjoyment is not for her, neither is work, her life simply consists of what is given to her. Haeun or nothing. The bakery or nothing. Her friends or nothing.

But Kihyun…Kihyun is an option she had taken herself, and to be picked as well feels like the damned most joyful feeling she has ever been captivated by.

What is it about him that suddenly reminds her of her purest moments? With a soul that is not stained, a heart that has forgotten and forgiven. To be happy is possible by his side, much more with his sly jokes, the smile that is always plastered on his face and those comments he makes that make her feel heat around her face, the waist that she has held for the past few weeks, over months now, simply reminding her that Kihyun is real…the one that would accompany her in this tough moment of her life. Not that he knew anything, for Kihyun everything around them was peachy, excellent, bursting with excitement and the newfound romance that they are taking their time with—if she doesn’t count the few kisses that they never make comments about.

It’s difficult when they work most of the time, and they only get to see each other when he takes her home, or in some weekend in which they do their hardest to finish their shift earlier. Underpaid, perhaps into each other, she finally realizes that this warm feeling that she feels for Kihyun has been burning nowadays, much more with the constant glares from Haeun inviting her to talk to him and while he had been delighted to be able to talk, even through the window, but also slyly weirded out. After all, they are supposed to be acting like they don’t even acknowledge each other as another human being in this world.

Reaching forward, with this habit she has of fixing Kihyun’s collar or scarf, she helps him with the badly done scarf that wraps around his neck, making sure that it is fluffed out, not covering his chin too much and that it isn’t too tight, when she avoids his gaze as he says. “…That reminds me of you? I was thinking a cake. Is vanilla a way of me to call you bland? Is chocolate…a way of calling you bitter? What does that even mean?”

“Don’t overthink every cringy thing I say, Kihyun.” She replies to him, though the comment makes him laugh and she simply gives him a tight-lipped smile. He notices, apparently, pressing the warm drink on his hand to her cheek, heating her skin slightly before asking.

“What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

“You.”

“Apart from me.”

She rolls her eyes, finally giving him a big smile and a tug to his red scarf before speaking softly. “I mean it, I’m thinking of you.” Though, it’s lingered with the thought that rummages through her head and tells her that if she dares voice out what has been going for the past two weeks, of Haeun practically pushing her to be Kihyun’s seductress before stopping him from doing his job. His cheeks heat up at that, looking over to the side when she says: “Kihyun, I seriously have to tell you something and I hope you don’t get mad at me for this…”

His smile falters, vanishes, disappears, becomes a memory of the dull moonlight in that eventful night when he tilts his head to the side and says the most truthful thing, typical of Kihyun. “It depends on what it is. Tell me and we’ll judge from there if I get mad.”

Okay, so that much is expected. Honesty is his policy, the only reason as to why Kihyun has always been…a gush of fresh air, so with shaky hands while trapping her fingers around the railing, she finally decides to be truthful. “Haeun said to me a few weeks ago that I either had to seduce you and make you do your job badly or she would fire me—” She cuts herself off, lifting her hands in the air when Kihyun’s frown deepens. “But, before you think I was just playing with you—I wasn’t, I’m not. The day of our first date, she told me she had seen us get close and that she’d give the opportunity to go to culinary school if I broke your heart, and if I didn’t, she’d toss me like I mean nothing.” Once again, she squints her eyes, wondering why the words can’t leave her mouth properly, why they don’t sound good at all. “…And that night, I kissed you because I meant it. I have meant everything that has happened between us, but I don’t want you to think there’s some other hidden reason…I don’t want to break your heart, much less for my job, so I’d rather just let you know before anyone else told you and gave you the wrong idea.”

Kihyun raises one of his eyebrows before scoffing. “Your boss really put you in that position?”

“She has never been a good boss…”

“Clearly, and not a good person either.” The soft wind hits them, her hair moving under her beanie, inspecting his face as he looks ahead to the scenery past the bridge, fixing his position until he is not facing her but instead to the front before sighing. “Tell me…everything has been real so far, right?”

His question tugs at her heartstring, nodding frantically at his words. “Yes, of course, I—Everything has been real, which is why I’m telling you. I don’t want to interfere in your job for culinary school, no matter how much I desire to go there—”

“She threatened to fire you?”

“…Yeah, kind of.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes, looking ahead with a tight jaw before releasing a thick sigh. “Maybe, there’s a way around this. We could really…pretend that you’ve done something to my job or something.”

“No, Kihyun, that’s—no.” She cuts him off, taking him by the cheeks and making him turn towards her. Looking at him, pushing his hair away from his face, everything heightens when she reaches forward and traps his bottom lip in between hers, kissing him softly, barely audibly, before pulling away from him, cheek now pressed to his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve been nothing but nice to me…and I’m just not that kind of girl.”

Kihyun’s fingers end up over her back, tracing the skin softly, filling her with warmth when he says: “But it’s your only chance to get to culinary school.”

“Not if I save money.”

“You can’t save money if you don’t have a job.”

“…Kihyun…” She threatens, some depth in her voice when she pulls away from him, taking the scarf in between her fingers and bringing him closer, pecking his lips once before shaking her head. “I won’t lose my job. It’s just an empty threat, I’m sure of…let’s just not think of this again, okay? Let’s continue as if this isn’t an issue.”

Kihyun breathes in through his teeth, letting a cloud of dense air out as he takes her by the face, shaking her head from side to side. “You’re so caring, it’s going to kill you one day.” He points out, eyes inspecting her features and looking for something she doesn’t know if she is giving him. It’s a cliché, what she feels for him, but she holds onto it—something about him feels like reality, like the one moment she had to live, all the hardships in love coming to his conclusion. Romance is dead, some say, but she is simply enjoying the dulcet one that grows in their hearts, much more when Kihyun accepts her as she is. For once, there is a person that she doesn’t feel like she needs to settle with, but that she gets to grow with…and that’s magical.

###

Resting her back against the cushions of Kihyun’s sofa, his fingers scrolling through his phone, his other hand settled on her waist as he lays sideways, over the center of her body, barely getting the corner of the sofa and seemingly not bothered by it, she really considers falling for him. Really, with all her might, much more when he had done his best to prepare dinner for her, fueling her stomach with more and more dishes, all from his plethora of unknown talents that she has gotten to know with the passage of time. Music softly plays from his phone, something that has to be ever present in their lives, because it relaxes her and because it is part of him.

It’s only when he locks his phone and rests it on top of the coffee table that he captures her gaze and catches her staring. He gives a smile, one that she’d frame if she could—sometimes, she thinks she has forgotten how to smile properly. It has always bit her in the back of her brain, smiling is an insecurity thing that she rarely gives herself the pleasure to give up to, but Kihyun crawled on the thin walls of her heart and kicked the door to get inside, just something that he was bound to do the moment they met over a year ago. It took months for them to even take the first step towards a romantic setting, but now that it’s here…she doesn’t want to let go.

“I have something for you.” She almost doesn’t catch his voice, tiny, soft, unlike how he usually speaks—he’s not loud, per say, but he is loud enough to be heard. In her heart, she knows everything he says comes from the depths of his soul, his beliefs, always voiced out with certainty.

“What was that?” Her voice is more levelled than his, letting her hand caress his hand as a smile blooms on her face from the blush on his cheeks. It’s not usual that he blushes—ever, for anyone, but for her…she’d get to see it a couple of times.

“I have something for you.” Kihyun says in between a groan, leaning back until his weight is resting over her abdomen, bringing a hiss out of her body before he fixes his position. “Sorry. It’s actually two somethings.”

She sits up then, being dragged away with her hands settled on his shoulders, surprising her by his hands resting on the lower part of her thighs and lifting her up to be half resting on top of his back, his weight leaned forward, barefoot and tapping away on the flooring the more he neared his small kitchen.

Never had she thought that resting her head against someone’s back would give her such leverage, that hearing the patterns of his breathing would become even more numbing than a night of sleep…and that she would like it. Someone would accept her, just like she is, with the spots she dislikes and the ones she wants to highlight, with the stories that have her shredding tears and the ones that have her wanting to go back in time, they all built the person that Kihyun likes today…and that’s something to be thankful for. Once he lowers her, softly and in front of his refrigerator, she watches him wrap his fingers around the door of the refrigerator, looking at her from over his shoulder before huffing.

“You’re not going to laugh, okay?”

“I never laugh at you, but with you.” She explains, something that has him opening the door in a hassle, standing in front of it and taking out what seems to be a cake, perfectly decorated in strawberries and whipped cream, a bit big for only two people eating it, but Kihyun licks his lips and talks about it as he closes the door with his foot.

“I baked something for you. It’s one of those wet cakes, it has cream in the middle and I don’t know if I undercooked it, but…also, I had to learn how to prepare meringue and I’m not sure if I got it down.” The man makes the most out of rambling, taking a knife with him and slicing a bit of the cake, just in time for her to grab two plates and let him place the slice down for her. “…But, I wanted to do justice to who you are as a baker and the reason why I started to look at you…so I hope you enjoy it.”

Would it be stupid to confess that no one has ever done anything like this for her? It would, but it’s something that she keeps thinking about whenever Kihyun does anything. No one has taken her home every single day without pointing out how annoying it is, much less has someone looked at her as if the world was held on her precious hands—no one has taken off their jacket to give it to her, much less have they kissed her with such casualty that it almost feels like they have been together for a lifetime. Once she takes a bite of the cake, she wonders if this is what normality is going to feel like for her as of lately. Like she deserves to be loved, past the physical aspects that she dislikes and the doubtful nature that coexists beneath her.

“This is spectacular for a first try, Ki.” She tells him, licking her bottom lip when he finally decides to dive into his own food. “You spoil me rotten.”

“…You really think I’m spoiling you?” Kihyun asks, something that makes her nod and the man can simply sigh deeply. “This is just…normal. It’s what you deserve, to have someone that gives you as much as you give.”

The words deserving rarely crossed her head, for she thought all the bad and the good in her life had happened because…it just did. There was no more answer to it, no seeking for better options, simply wishing for another day in which she can exist. The music still plays in the background when she takes a big bite of her meal, chewing while she speaks. “So, that means you’d do a lot of things for me, right?”

Kihyun moves his head from side to side, pondering. “A lot, not all, of course…but yeah, why?”

Bashfulness, typical of her to feel but not around him, only in certain occasions. After all, everything still feels damn fresh with him. “…Well, when I caught you dancing and all, you said you’d teach me how to dance…”

His lips part in one of those big grins of his. “You want us to dance now?”

“…If you want.”

This is all he needs to stand up, taking another bite of his cake before extending his arms towards her and sweeping her off the chair that held her weight up. Kihyun finds gravity in her waist, usually going a bit further until his fingers are splayed on each side of her spine, directly in the spots that have always hurt like hell…but feel cherished and loved when around him. The oxygen is taken out of her lungs when the song plays some ballad, one from a show she remembers Kihyun saying he doesn’t even watch—or maybe, he just hides some things. “Actually, dancing is pretty easy.” He instructs, her hands resting on top of his shoulders, a bit stiff when he moves his left leg to the side. “A step to the left, a step forward, a step to the right, a step back. It’s simple, just do a…square? Yeah, a square.”

Kihyun’s eyes lower to look down at her lips and she notices that she is not following his steps, staying still while she presses her chest to his. “…Am I going to look dumb?”

“I mean…dancing in the kitchen is quite dumb.” He admits. “But the point here is to be…dumb and cheesy together.”

Finally, her feet move with his, enjoying the fact that this is not as difficult as she thought it’d be. A bit awkward, yes, but still enough to have her smiling in his embrace. “Since when are you the cheesy type? I’d never take you as that kind of man.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re the epitome of cheesy with me.”

“…That makes you special, then.” Kihyun points out, making her hide her face in his shoulder, hearing the sound of his breathing while he chuckles, hands playing with the fabric of her shirt. “I never thought I’d end up like this with you, either.”

Not boyfriend and girlfriend, still, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up asking him if he doesn’t take the first step soon enough. “I also didn’t…think so.” She replies, looking up and resting a faint kiss on his chin, one that leaves her lipstick splayed on his skin before humming. “But you’re the realest thing I’ve ever lived.”

“What does that even mean?” Kihyun asks in between laughter, throwing his head back slightly before looking down at her.

No one has ever had stars in their eyes when looking at her, though she has dated in the past—it has always felt like she has had to, not that she has wanted to. Breathing with him comes with acceptance, coexisting at the same time as him feels like a blessing—to hear such mindsets, to be held with such tenderness, such delicacy, and yet such empowering nature that comes with him, with the energy he brings her, is the reality she has always looked for. “Oh, you know,” She tries to shrug it off, but he doesn’t settle for that, keeping the moment going when he shakes his head. “I—No one has ever liked me…you know, for the real me. And I have never met someone as realistic as you: kind but also rough, torn at the edges but yet so complete. That’s real, that’s you…and that’s who I want.”

Kihyun lifts his eyebrows, perhaps a bit emotional but not showing it, wrapping his arms around her and stopping any dancing they had started to simply cage her in his embrace. Kihyun kisses her cheeks, her shoulders, takes her hands in his and presses soft kisses to them before looking up at her, from behind her knuckles, sunlight in him even when moonlight seeps through his windows. “…And then, I’m the cheesy one.”

“Sorry, that’s how you make me.”

“Come on,” Kihyun says, clearly enjoying the attention before letting out a shaky breath and reaching forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. No one has made her feel like the rain in her heart is making flowers grow instead of making her sulkier, but there he is, the reality that she has always looked for in the form of a deliveryman—of someone he should technically not be dating. “Do you want to keep dancing or…?”

“Just kiss me, Kihyun.”

“I can make that happen.”

###

Aroma of coffee, nicely decorated tables and perhaps a man who is ten minutes late.

It sounds far more interesting than it really is, but the romanticism of the place has brought her to be thankful of finally having a free day and to be able to spend it with none other than the deliveryman that should have started his lunch break ten minutes ago—hence, he is still probably delivering around the city and leaving her waiting. While looking down at her nails, she wonders when is the last time she has done them…probably before she even got into baking, and when she takes a sip of her coffee, already a bit lukewarm, she realizes just how much she has missed since she started her career. A coffee date shouldn’t be such an impressionable part of her life, much less to Kihyun, but it is—spending money on herself, on having a nice afternoon, suddenly has turned into something that she should appreciate, and she does, but the lack of enjoyment that she had gone through in the past is almost…impossible to think about.

Everything feels right for once, like hiding is not so wrong when she is her happiest. It only took a few days after her encounter with Kihyun in the kitchen, dancing like two madmen, for him to ask to be in a relationship, perhaps not long-lasting, that much she doesn’t know, but productive, serious, eventually fulfilling for the two. This romanticism is not necessary to exist in someone’s life—but hey, fuck it, she wants to enjoy her life for once, feel like she can be loved and worshipped just as much as she can love and worship someone else. It is then that she realizes that not having Kihyun by her side would be too much of a strain for her heart.

Sometimes, she imagines what Haeun would say if she got to know the truth, or she’d think what would happen when…eventually, in the future, she has to come clean about it. What happens if the relationship becomes more serious, if one day they decide to take a step into marriage or living together, of making it less than juvenile dating and more of profoundness, when she gets to work for the first time and can’t simply stop looking at him or when they go home together, and it could happen that someone could simply have forgotten something and encounter the couple. Damned, she is, to ever think of such a thing…of the end before the beginning, of the culprit of their break up, but it’s something that clouds her brain in judgement.

You have to ruin him.

…Haeun had said so, and while the subject rarely came back up, and if it did, she changed the subject, it is only a matter of time before Haeun notices. It settles uncomfortably on her chest, it has her clinging onto the cup of coffee and wishing things were different, that she could find a job just as easily as anyone else, as if her world was not going to be destroyed by some top baker in the continent.

Nonetheless, her train of thought is changed when she sees someone rushing through the streets, hands raised in the air, making some of the cars honk at his mere presence, wind blowing on his hair and almost knocking off his typical hat as he finally crosses the street and makes his way inside the café. His breathing is raged, cheeks tinted pink, lips connecting in a smile when he goes over to her. Kihyun does this for her, and for him too—because he likes her so much that he has decided to be with her, even when he could also potentially lose his job if his boss knew who exactly he was dating…or where she worked at.

“Kihyun, don’t do that ever again.” She tells him, pulling him by the sleeve of his t-shirt and placing a kiss to his lips, the taste of coffee exchanged from her to him before he pulls away with a smile. “Hey, don’t be smiling about that, I mean it. You could have gotten ran over—”

“I put my hands up for a reason.” He says, perhaps not thinking straight before he sits down, letting out a big sigh along the way. “…And I definitely won’t do it again because I feel like my balls are now in my throat and…yeah, it was scary.”

Her hand comes forward to feel over his heart before hissing near his face. “Don’t be saying stuff like that in public. People are going to think we are into some…questionable shit.”

“Like eating my own balls? No one is going to think that.” Kihyun whispers, chuckling at her words before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. Maybe, it’s worth trying simply hiding the most precious thing she has had in her life, better than the aroma of pastries or baking, better than some culinary school. Maybe, she’d get to have both worlds—her reality and the one that is more-so like a nightmare and a dream at the same time. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

With a squint of her eyes and a push of the small plate that holds his favorite muffin towards his way, she speaks through gritted teeth. “It’s okay. I’m going to make fun of this moment someday, but that day is not today.”

“You know, some girls would think it’s cute.”

She frowns at that, smacking his hand that has reached forward to interlock with hers. “…Oh no, baby, which girls? Ones that are into ghosts of their boyfriends?”

The sound of his laughter, joyful and loud, is the only acceptance she needs to get ready for. As long as he is there, the future could only fall into place, connect into perfect puzzle pieces, promises to be mended, lives to be lived. No one could stop her, or so she thought.

###

Macaroons are such simplistic, necessary, craved for pastries that she is used to making, but she finds herself having a difficult time today, out of all days, to prepare them when she feels a set of eyes landing on her. Her boss, typical of her to be a judgmental person even from afar, seated by the door, phone resting on her lap and inspecting her every move. She should get used to this—bakers and chefs alike are supposed to get used to being watched, but Haeun is there for other reasons. She can sense it deep in her bones, wanting nothing but to get out of there and pretend that her boss doesn’t exist.

Just when she is happy, there is someone talking in the back of her head—the voice belongs to Haeun, most of the time, and it reminds her that it’s either Kihyun or a job, Kihyun or culinary school. As much as she likes the man, dating him is a risk she is taking because she wants to…even if it would cost her the career that she has worked so painfully to craft. Haeun has said it a thousand times—who even wants a worker that can’t stand up for long periods of time? That sentence had been told long ago and it still bothered, irked her, mostly because she knows she’s not broken. With predicaments? Yes, just like everyone else in this world, but a condition should not be a matter for her to be judged as a worker.

Her name is called, making her hum but keep her attention on the bowl in between her fingers, whisking and mixing just in time to hear Haeun’s voice. “You haven’t updated me with our little seduction plan for Kihyun.” Our, because suddenly Haeun wants to drag her into this, make her an ‘us’ problem instead of something that she has thought of on her own and wanted to manipulate her to do. “The sales seem to be going fine for them…”

“I’d know if I worked for them, Boss.” She replies, wanting nothing more than to shape the mixture, plop it in the oven, and simply forget about Haeun’s existence. The woman continues to pry, however, like the people she has always been used to…sadly, her reality, those who cling at her, dig their nails, take the best away from her and leave a broken part on her soul. Destructive, in a way.

“…Fair enough.” Haeun says, releasing a big sigh into the air, chair creaking under her weight. “He’s still very into you.”

Silence. She doesn’t want to say anything, much more when she is into him, too.

“And my offer stands. The booking for culinary school will be in a month. I think you have until then to do something about—” Culinary school, Kihyun, her boss, everything seems to be too much, enough to bring a headache that no number of painkillers could suffice. “Kihoon? Kihyun? Honey, culinary school is difficult to get into, not to say expensive, I really think you should just give it a try. Besides, it’s not like you’d like him all that much. I have never seen you like anyone, to start with.”

But what does she know? What does an old woman that has never really gotten over her nineties love affair know about her current love life? The only thing she has known in her life is manipulate her, twist her and turn her into the little marionette she wants to play with. “Ah, Boss, I don’t know…I really don’t know the guy.”

“But you do.”

“Huh?”

“He talks to you sometimes, that should be enough.” Haeun replies, not standing by her side and contrasting her with her height, a tad smaller than the baker. “You know, these insecurities you have will take you nowhere,” That much she knows, it’s second nature for her to know that she has stopped herself from being just because she fears existence itself. “You need to make more decisions. Don’t worry, it’s something that can be fixed. The moment you learn how to grow up, how to take matters into your own hands and turn into the woman you have always desired to be, it’s the moment you finally realize that no one is worth your career.” She claims with pride, chest puffed out, letting out a dreamy sigh that had taken away any concentration she had on the macaroons. “I did that, and look at me: great car, great bakery, great…life. I don’t mind stepping over a few people to get to the top.”

The top, she had never imagined ever being one of the best. That’s just not her. Shaking her head, she looks towards the mixture once again, taking the dough in between her hands and rolling it softly. “Sorry, Boss. I’m afraid…I could try but I don’t think it’s going nowhere. Kihyun and I hold no type of relationship.”

“…Are you really that willing to lose your job?” She asks, tapping her fingers against her back. “Don’t make a bad decision. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I said—”

“…I don’t care, I said don’t disappoint me.” Haeun points out softly, giving a pat to her back before turning on her heels and getting out of the kitchen.

The waterfalls would have started if only she hadn’t given a deep breath, scared of the situation she was placed in. As long as Haeun did not get to know the reality of the situation, then everything should be alright, she promises herself, knowing fully well that Kihyun is also getting scolded by his boss—for even looking towards the bakery or smiling her way. It seems as though being in a bad economic state suddenly makes the rich people in the world willing to destroy their lives. She closes her eyes tightly, smacking the dough back into the bowl and leaning her weight forward, limbs shaking when she covers her face and lets out another sigh. Breathing, that’s all she needs to do, she’d keep her job and her boyfriend, her job and her boyfriend, there shouldn’t be ever a decision, she doesn’t have to pick something in her life for once and simply enjoy both worlds.

Worlds that are colliding, crumbling, falling apart. Worlds that she had never imagined on having, that had once been happy but now seem to want to break each other apart, even when she is the most at ease she has been in a while. Tears fall from her eyes, a loud sniffle and her back straightening her actions to stop them, leaning her head back and wanting them to go back into their place. If Kihyun knew about this…he’d probably say something to Haeun, he’s honest, he would totally eat her boss alive, so she’d rather stay quiet. For her sake.

If she wants to have him, she just has to stay silent. A secret, maybe Haeun will forget…

Before any of her coworkers could barge in, the youngest to be exact, and catch her in such a state, she pats a napkin onto her face, not caring that she rubs a bit of her makeup off, letting out a deep sigh and returning on her task of making macaroons. Maybe, this will clear her mind.

###

“Kihyun, you know I really don’t like the whole ‘covering my eyes’ thing—”

“Is that you saying you don’t trust me what I hear?”

She grabs onto the hands that are latched over her eyes before sighing. “I trust you, baby, I just don’t trust your intentions with the obvious surprise party you’ve been preparing for two weeks.”

Though, nothing eases her heart more than knowing that this birthday she woke up to the sweetest message from Kihyun, and that he has been running around for the past two weeks, obviously leaving some trails of his preparations in his apartment when she went to visit him. It’s a different celebration, of course, but she doesn’t know why someone like Kihyun would even bother preparing such a thing when he already knew that she guessed his intentions.

His hands let go of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and speaking close to her ear, taut chest pressed to her back, lips hovering over her ear when he speaks softly, wiggling with each step forward, almost giving penguin steps together. “Listen, there are a lot of people who care about you and love you inside your apartment and I just need, like really need, you to pretend like you’re surprised.” A fleeting kiss is pressed to her ear, the noise making her bend her neck and let out a small giggle. Once standing in front of her door, Kihyun whispers. “Promise me you will at least make the effort of being a good actress?”

Shrugging her shoulders and pressing further into his body even when he is using her keys to get inside her apartment, she hums in delight. “I don’t think I can, just to get you riled up…you know.”

“Please?” He begs, a whine in his tone when he leans his weight forward, opening the door slightly. “I really prepared this with all my heart poured into it, I never do shit like this.”

He really does look like a gift from heaven right now, white button up tucked into some slacks, a few buttons opened that give a glimpse of his chest. While she would have definitely not been mad spending some time alone with him, probably watching movies and receiving all his love and affection, for now she settles for a kiss on his lips and a few thankful words that have him smiling. The moment would have been even more precious had someone not opened the door in a quickened manner, bringing Kihyun stumbling forward—and for this, her body as well—thanks to his hold on the door.

Cheering and clapping fill the air, her lights being turned on and in her small apartment, she just knows she’s going to get a noise complaint and probably some words from the people downstairs about the noise of the immense amount of footsteps that come when people wrap their arms around her. Some friends, some from high school, others from her first job, others that she has met along the way, some family members—or the ones that still live in the city—and definitely some coworkers. The smell in the air is dense with alcohol, mixed with a fruity scent, and the baked goods that she just knows have to be in there. It’s only when she gets some time to breathe and she feels Kihyun pressing a quick kiss to her temple, that she realizes that there is someone that has still not congratulated her, moving forward and looking out of place in such a spot, such casualty and simplicity of an apartment, when she wraps a loose arm around her shoulders, leaving her frozen.

Haeun chuckles against the woman’s skin. “I’m guessing you really are having the happiest of birthdays,” She says, sparing a look towards Kihyun before the man takes the hint. His hand on her waist falters, disappears as he moves away and tries not to look her way. They had been caught, apparently, and in a light that had Haeun really think that she had been able to betray Kihyun’s trust simply to go to culinary school…or to get her job. Once the man is gone, Haeun gives her the biggest grin, jutting her chin forward and chuckling. “You had it hidden, sneaky one—”

“Boss, I—How did you get here?” She asks, looking around before the woman shrugged her shoulders.

“You see, I heard my workers talk about this surprise party of yours, but I didn’t expect to see what I saw. The innocent, sweet baker of mine is getting it on with the deliveryman.” Shame, she has never felt like so, everyone else chatting and living their own lives, dancing and thinking that she is having a great time when her heart feels like it might come into a sudden stop at any given moment, breaths coming in short pants. Her eyes look to the right, seeing her boyfriend making some kind of sign, using his hand to go over his neck in the form of ‘cut it out’. “But that’s…eventful. I was planning on giving you the news that you’d be fired today, but seeing that you were only keeping it from me.”

“Boss—”

“I shall tell you—”

“Boss.” She speaks louder, only to have the woman shaking her head, smiling brightly when she says:

“I got you into culinary school. You’ll be going to Paris to perfect your craft, then become the head baker of my proximal inauguration in Paris, as well.” Haeun speaks with certainty, power, like she has always had—over her, over the world, she’d never take no as an answer. Her chest deflates at that, seeing the opportunity that is suddenly put in front of her. Someone like her has never thought of travelling, much less has she thought she’d be good enough to go to a Parisian culinary school, being the head baker of a place is also something that in her solitude would have been impossible to even phantom inside her head. “That is…if you break it off with him. I don’t want to have any connection or…rather, peace offering with Kwangho.”

The world shatters at that, paralyzed in her spot as she tries to remember who she really is—the woman that Kihyun had fallen in love with, the one that he touches with all the love in the world, of lust and adoration, of complete happiness of having her as his and vice versa. She can’t get rid of him, like he means nothing, breaking up would take a part of her away, would turn her into the person that she has never imagined being but always desired to be. Maybe, she is happy as she is—as her imperfect self, that would stutter when speaking to someone of importance and that is a bit on the insecure side. Maybe, there doesn’t need to me strength inside her if that means stepping over other people—hurting others that had done nothing but love her unconditionally.

“Boss, let me speak for a second.” She says, lifting her hands in the air and looking around the room before biting down on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can break up with him.”

Haeun seems surprised by the news, lifting her eyebrows and fixing the glasses that fall down the bridge of her nose. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

The issue has always fallen on her boss, on how she pushes and pushes until she gets the most out of someone—until she drains them and turns them into someone like her. “Well, I’ve given you an opportunity of a lifetime just in one condition. You don’t know if Kihyun is even going to last forever. Your knowledge does.” Haeun replies. “Loyalty does. If you stay with him, you’d trash all the years of us working together away. All those moments in which I believed in you…gone to waste.”

She should know what Haeun is doing, she should concentrate on the man that is looking for her—or her birthday, god, completely ruined at the situation that is suddenly put over her hands. “I’ll think about it.” She whispers, hearing the sound of Haeun’s giggle when she moves away and goes towards Kihyun, only being able to give him a hug and a kiss on the lips to shut all the words that scream inside her head, that want more answers, that need to decide something to make it her reality.

Kihyun has always been the realest thing she has ever lived, the perfect night, the perfect day, the immaculate in imperfections. The memories, all cherished, all loved by her, all caught in between her fingers after months of dating. Not too many, but just enough. Just enough to love him.

To feel him.

To not want to hurt him.

“Is everything alright?” He asks with his wide-eyed gaze, something that she can simply dismiss with a sigh and another hug to his body.

“Yes, I was just taken aback by everything.”

But that’s a lie. Kihyun may be the most honest event that happened in her life, but maybe she isn’t his.

###

When she started her reality with Kihyun, did she ever think it was going to end?

From the start, maybe, she had done so…she doesn’t recall. What she knows is that she had never imagined the future with him—she liked to live in their present, in what makes their endless love palpable, how he simply took her out of her shell and showed to her that there was nothing to be ashamed for. The depth of her back, the aches of her body, the sighs that would leave her lips out of tiredness—even what hides underneath those oversized clothes of hers, inside her head in her biggest questions about life. He loved all of those, after all those days, he continued to love those moments in which he could see the magic of her working, when a touch of his hand is enough to electrify something inside her head and a smile to appear on her face.

He even almost got ran over because of her, and that just goes on to show that, yes, Kihyun was scared of whatever they had gotten to…of being their real selves with each other and letting the other love the most intricate of things about the other, but he still kept on. He’s brave, unlike her, not insecure of what she feels for her. He thinks there will be many chances of a job but not a lot of chances of having her—romance can be found, but she can’t be found again, in a way.

After a long day at the job, laying on the flooring of her apartment to keep her back straight, she realizes she has been staring at the ceiling for far too long, thinking of the promises she has made, the times she kissed over his bare chest, right on top of his heart, and whispered that she loved him…and she did. She really does love Kihyun more than she has loved anyone else, with all her might and glory, with all the confidence that she doesn’t have…but the questions in the back of her head tell her that she’d be homeless, rather destroyed if she didn’t take this opportunity up. Haeun would do anything in her willpower to destroy her career, something that Haeun could do in the matter of seconds.

All the tears would not have meant nothing.

All these days of worrying would have gone to waste.

Her eyes close when she finally presses the red button on the screen, calling Kihyun and pressing the phone to her ear. Lately, he has noticed how strange she is acting—it has tipped him over the edge, released the tension from him and made him say one or two things out of pure frustration, he just needed her to speak, but she couldn’t. Now, in a position in which she had to say something, she wondered what exactly she was doing. That’s the answer, she doesn’t know, there is nothing else she can do other than call him and—

“Hey babe, what’s the matter?”

Time won’t fly anymore, it has…with how much she has enjoyed their relationship, but something tells her that this night will go obnoxiously slow. She finally opens her eyes, blinded by the light on the ceiling, by the ache on her chest—it has always been her back that bothered, but now it feels like her heart just no longer wants to function with her, with this body that she no longer proclaims as hers but of life. As always, she makes the decisions based on the flow of time, not on what she wants— “Kihyun, I think we need to break up.”

Kihyun is honest, he always has been, he seriously should have been mad and out of his brain when he heard those words coming from her lips, but with a deep tone of his voice—almost downright coming from his chest, he asks: “Why?”

“That day…that night of my birthday, a few weeks ago, Haeun offered me to go to culinary school—”

“I really can’t believe you.”

“She said I needed to break up with you because she had found me a spot in a culinary school in Paris and—”

He actually sighs, expected of him to do so when she already feels tears threatening to appear in her eyes. No. She’s actually crying by now, aware of what she is doing—or has done. “That’s not an excuse. It has always been about your job and what you could lose, not about what I was betting when getting into this relationship. Because I love you, you get that?”

“I’m so sorry,” She whispers, wanting nothing more than for him to forgive him for the plane ticket that Haeun has sent her and the clothes that she is thinking of preparing just to leave to Paris. “I love you, too, Kihyun, but you know how difficult it has been for me to get a job in this industry and I don’t think I will get an opportunity like this.”

“You could continue dating me, even through culinary school.”

“What if Haeun got to know this? She’d—”

“Haeun, Haeun, Haeun. When will you stop caring what she thinks?!”

Something breaks inside of her, the sound of his voice enraged and torn, much more when she says: “I’m just being honest—I need to be loyal, to my dream, to my boss…you know I will have zero chances of getting an opportunity like this—”

“You know what? Fine.”

The sound of the phone on the other end finishing the call leaves her in absolute disdain, knowing that she’d never live a reality as beautiful as the one she had with Kihyun. Perhaps, reaching a good level in her career would never feel quite as real as the pain tearing her apart, now holding her chest to control the soft sobs that leave her lips.

She had broken all her promises, just in the name of loyalty.

But she had not been loyal to his love for him.

#kihyun scenarios #kihyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #the anti-love club #writing #monsta x au #monsta fluff #monsta x angst #kihyun au #kihyun fluff #kihyun angst #thoughts?

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cutelittlestar · 4 years

Text

Maniac: Chapter 3 || Peter Parker x Detective!Reader

Summary: While resourceful information is unveiled, it feels as if Y/N and Peter are right back to square one, further complicating their investigation.

Note: I’m sorry for posting this chapter hella late, but I hope you enjoy it :) I know these past chapters have been a bit slow (plot wise), but I needed to introduce a bit of background info. BUT, I promise you, shit is about to go down in the next upcoming chapters.

As always, feel free to provide feedback. Until next time!

Warning(s): topics of death and murder, prostitution, violence, blood, angst, cursing. MATURE CONTENT, 18+

Word Count: 6.6k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Your eyes were glued to the bright screen as you watched your captain give a formal and live statement on the murders of the three victims, conveying to the public that a possible serial killer was roaming the streets of New York; you retained every word that came out of her mouth, yet you remained motionless, unable to believe that this was happening. Despite the training you endured, it never prepared you for something like this. Peter watched from behind, noticing how your hands were tightly clutched but visibly shaking. He was afraid to come closer, worried that you would push him away; ever since he took you back to his apartment, you remained on the couch, not listening to Peter as he attempted to get you to lay on his bed. You were still shaken by what happened a few hours ago; the killer informed you that he knew of your every move, and you began to grow anxious by the minute, feeling horrible that you dragged Peter into your mess. The television was turned off, and you stared at Peter through the reflection of the screen before breaking eye-contact.

“Y/N, you should rest,” Peter softly conveyed, moving closer until he was sitting inches away from you; a frown formed on Peter’s face as he stared at your void eyes. It was as if your soul was drained from your body. He hoped that you would listen to him, but as usual, he was wrong. Instead, you shook your head, leaning your body further against the couch, rubbing your eyes. Despite that you were showing clear signs of distress, you were absolutely terrified to sleep, becoming paranoid that the killer would enter the apartment when you were most vulnerable.

“I can’t,” you confessed to him, moving your hair that fell onto your face, “I can’t sleep, they know where I am, they could come here and-” you stopped talking, noticing how your voice was shaky. You were embarrassed as Peter watched your panic become stronger by the minute, but he didn’t seem to mind, moving closer until you felt his body radiate warmness. You didn’t fight Peter as he moved his arm around your shoulder, causing you to stand up as he led you towards his room. He had already laid out pajamas on the bed, but you remained frigid, not wanting to complete the steps that would follow after.

Peter felt you tense up, but he reassuringly held you, gingerly squeezing your shoulders. “It’s alright, I’m right here,” he softly whispered, causing you to melt into his arms. You slowly walked towards the bed, grabbing the clothes, and Peter turned around, giving you privacy to change. Once he heard the bed covers being untucked, he turned back around, a soft smile resting on his face as he watched your body be engulfed by his thick blanket. Your head rested on the pillow, but you bit your lip, tearing the skin as your eyes wandered around the room. Peter came closer, kneeling beside the bed as his hand went out to lay on the pillow, inches away from your head. You gazed into his eyes; they were such as deep chocolate color, and it brought you relief. His fingers instinctively reached out to touch your face and his thumb rubbed the side of your head, delicately tracing shapes.

“I’m here for you. They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them, I promise,” Peter heartedly confessed, his heart aching at the sight in front of him. Your eyes still portrayed a significant amount of uncertainty, but he also saw a hint of hope in your eyes, knowing you were safe with him. Peter gave you one final reassuring simper before standing back up, walking around the bed, and grabbing a pillow before walking towards the door. As he was about to leave the room and turn off the lights, your whimper caused him to stop.

“Peter?” you called out, your frail voice making Peter want to stay longer with you. Your eyes landed on Peter’s chest, unable to make eye contact as you were afraid to say what was on your mind; Peter felt his heart beat faster as he watched your face heat up, and he hoped you were going to ask him to stay. “Do you think that- um -,” you fumbled out your words, quickly ending your sentence as you felt your body shake, too scared to continue speaking. “C-could you stay? Just until I can fall asleep?” you quivered.

“Of course,” Peter grinned at you, nodding his head before closing the door and turning off the lights. You heard his footsteps come closer until you felt his presence near you, and you scooted further into the bed, allowing Peter to move the blanket so he can join you. The mere presence of him made you feel secured, but you wanted to get closer, disliking the significant amount of distance there was between the both of you. Your heart speedily palpitated as you yearned for him, but you were scared that it would be too much to ask of Peter. Instead, you turned your body away so you wouldn’t find the urge to move closer, but you suddenly felt the bed move as Peter came near your body. Your breathing came to a stop as you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you in closer to his chest until his head rested on your shoulder; Peter let out a sigh of relief as his body relaxed into yours, utterly content that he found the most comfortable position. He gave you a soft squeeze, his strong arms securing you in his grasp.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his breath tickling your exposed neck. You felt shivers run down your body, but then you soon relaxed, dissolving into his embrace. Your hands reached down to interlock with his, to which he happily accepted, and you bit back a smile, feeling completely protected by him.

“Goodnight Pete,” you replied, shutting your eyes. You knew this was wrong to do because the emotions you were feeling at this moment were the same ones you felt years ago when you were completely in love with Peter; you feared that they would come back, if not, stronger than ever before, but you quickly silenced the voice that told you to stay away from Peter. This felt right, being in his arms, and even if meant nothing to him, it meant everything to you; so, you quietly mesmerized the moment, taking in every detail that you could remember, and you silently imagined a life with Peter Parker because you knew that in the morning, it would be completely gone.

- - - - - - - - -

The photos of Elizabeth, Amanda, and Glimmer were neatly taped in a straight line, placed directly in the center of the board, surrounded by personal notes, crime scene photos, a map, and a small list of suspects. You hoped that the longer you continued to stare, something vital to the case would magically appear, but you knew it was too good to be true. Despite there were several items scattered around the board, it meant nothing to you because it didn’t help you determine who was the killer. Your eyes briefly landed on the victims before you quickly looked away, feeling as if they were watching your every move. You brushed off the ridiculous idea, assuming your mind was playing tricks; must be because you barely slept last night, even though Peter was beside you the whole time. While your body screamed at you to rest, you decided to ignore it; you knew it was wrong of you to not properly take care of your mental health, but you were so desperate to catch the murderer, willing to do whatever it takes to get justice for the victims. In reality, you were only making up excuses. You constantly repeated in your mind that the precinct brought you comfort, giving you the privacy to continue your investigation, and if you ever needed to rest, you could go to the locker room; however, you knew you were lying to yourself.

Ever since the incident that occurred in your apartment, the last thing you wanted to do was rest; it made you feel guilty. A part of you felt slightly bad for leaving Peter alone in his apartment, not having the courage to wake him up nor bother him with your issues, but you left a note for him, hoping he would understand. You don’t even remember what time you left Peter’s apartment, but you did remember the awful dream you had, which caused you to wake up in a cold sweat. Ever being in Peter’s arms didn’t shake away the terror you felt, and you discreetly got out of bed without waking up Peter. You had the urge to continue your investigation, despite your heart telling you to stay longer.

You leaned yourself against the desk, rubbing your eyes, trying to remain awake; dark circles began to form under your eyes, the color of your skin looked as if it was entirely drained from your body, and you looked frailer, but the way you looked was the least of your concerns; there were only a handful of officers taking the night shift, and it wasn’t like they were going to judge you. They knew it was best to stay out of your way. However, you knew the minute Captain Parish and Michael would arrive, they weren’t going to ignore your change of behavior.

So, you decided it was best if you didn’t speak about last night; if they ever knew that the killer broke into your apartment and left a threatening letter, they would kick you off the case and make you go under witness protection program. You knew it was stubborn and wrong of you to keep this secret between you and Peter, but you needed to find the killer.

“Didn’t expect to see you this early,” a voice said, causing you to take your eyes off the board and turn around. You greeted your Captain, making sure to avoid eye-contact that was longer than five seconds.

“Morning Captain Parish,” you addressed, “the early bird gets the worm, right?” you added, faking a laugh, hoping she didn’t get suspicious. Your Captain narrowed her eyes at you, taking in your physical state, her eyes darting to the board that stood behind you, knowing something was off. Before she could say anything else, you interrupted her.

“I was thinking about the case,” you started, getting her attention, “and I think it would be best if Michael and I went to Midtown School of Science and Technology to get some answers from Elizabeth’s friends. Maybe they know something that her parents don’t.” You bit your lip, waiting for your Captain to respond.

“Sounds like a good idea,” she approved, nodding her head. You were right, Captain Parish was certain she kept some secrets from her parents, despite the close relationship she had with them. “Call the school and let the principal know, maybe they can pull Elizabeth’s friends from class or make them stay after school.”

“Will do, Captain,” you asserted, pulling out your chair and immediately looking for the school’s phone number. Captain Parish stood beside your desk for a few seconds, looking at you and the board before heading towards her office.

“Detective Y/L/N?” she said out loud, stopping by her door and turning to look at you. You held your head up, holding the phone in your hand as you waited for her to say something. “Eat something, looks like you’re about to pass out,” she remarked before turning back around and closing the door. You softly cursed to yourself, realizing your captain was aware of your state of being, but you promised yourself that you would eat something after you made the call to the school.

After you called the school, the principal agreed to let you question some of Elizabeth’s friends, but he had to make calls since some of the students were minors and needed to have permission from their parents; you were allowed to question them during their last period, which was roughly around two-thirty in the afternoon, so when Michael arrived, you would notify him of your plan. On the other hand, you dreaded seeing Michael, not knowing what to say to him since your last conversation ended rather abruptly; you knew he cared for you, and you cared for him, but at this moment, your top priority was the case. There wasn’t time for you and him to have a personal conversation about your relationship. More importantly, you feared that Michael would bring it up again when he had the chance, and you were still uncertain of how you felt about him. You had a great partnership with him, and you didn’t want to ruin what you had; however, you were willing to give him a chance, but now that Peter was back in your life, it was all too stressful for you, and your emotions were all over the place.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice asked, causing you to pick your head up; your smile grew as you watched Michael stand beside your desk, weirdly eyeing you; he held a coffee in his hands but placed it on his desk, which was right in front of yours. “I don’t believe my eyes, you’re here earlier than me? I’m surprised, really,” Michael joked around, taking off his jacket and placing it on his chair; you rolled your eyes, pleased that Michael was acting like his usual self.

“Surprised? Michael, I’m always here before you. I should be the one that’s shocked you’re even here.” Michael playfully pouted his lips as you sassed him back, upset that you didn’t continue his little game but still content that he saw a smile on your face.

“Damn, I was really hoping you forgot your memory so I can make you think you were a really bad detective,” Michael goofed around, a smirk settling on his face.

“Haha,” you said in a monotonous tone, letting out a soft chuckle at Michael’s remarks. It felt like everything was back to normal, but you knew you had to get back to work. Before you could tell him of your plan, he continued to speak; his goofy personality was completely gone and he analyzed you, a hint of worry etched in his facial features. “You look like shit, did you not sleep?” You flicked him off, hoping that what you were about to say was going to be a convincing lie.

“I’m just not wearing any makeup today, this is what I usually look like,” you confessed, giving him a mean glare, “thanks for making me feel ugly, though.” Michael’s eyes widened and his face turned red from embarrassment; it took every fiber in your body to not burst out laughing as you watched Michael panic. “Th-that’s not what I meant!” Michael announced, attempting to save himself as you continued to give him a deadpanned expression. “Er- you’re a beautiful woman, Y/N! Did I forget to mention that you look like Beyoncé?!”

“Anyways,” you stated, rolling your eyes and ignoring his comments. “I called the Midtown school, and they allowed us to question some of Elizabeth’s friends around the late afternoon, so we’ll be driving there.” Michael opened his mouth before he closed it, nodding his head.

“Cool, cool, cool,” he calmly stated, watching as you neatly placed a pile of paperwork on one side of your desk. You, unaware of his stare, continued about your task, stopping until you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. “Can we just ignore what I said?” Michael pleaded, hoping you would forgive him, but you weren’t paying attention to him; you noticed the notification was a text message from Peter.

Pete: Meet me in the roof

You turned off your phone, glancing at Michael before picking up your jacket and putting it on. Michael waited for your response, but you decided to continue to stretch out the little game you were playing with him. You let out a long hiss, tilting your head to the side, placing your fingers on your chin as if you were pondering Michael’s plead. “I don’t know, Mike,” you playfully said, a smirk on your lips. “I’ll think about it.” However, when you called him by his nickname, he knew you were messing with him.

“I hope you know it’s not nice to mess with someone’s emotions!” Michael shouted as you walked away from him; you let out a laugh, turning around to give him the middle finger before walking towards the back exit, heading towards the roof. The cold instantly hit you once you opened the door, causing you to shiver, but you continued to walk up the unsteady steps. Your eyes landed on Peter, who was wearing his Spider-Man suit. He was leaning against the edge of the building and holding a paper hot cup in one hand and a small white paper bag in the other. The sound of your footsteps caused him to raise his head, and he stood up, anxiously holding the items as you came closer. He read your note the minute he woke up, but he wasn’t angry that you left, just worried because he knew you didn’t get enough sleep or eat well.

“Hey Pete,” you replied, your voice a bit hesitant as you were unsure of how Peter was going to react.

“Hey,” Peter greeted, a blush forming on his cheeks, to which you, thankfully, couldn’t see. Last night was the best sleep he ever got, and it was the first time he woke up with a beaming smile on his face. Although he was a bit disappointed to wake up and not see you in his arms, he understood your determination; you were just like him, wanting to resolve conflict before it got too out of hand. Peter hoped that he would have another night with you in his arms again, but he mentally laughed at himself, knowing that wasn’t going to happen.

He quickly held out his arms, shoving the items in front of your face. “I know you didn’t eat well, so I got you a sesame bagel with cream cheese and hot coffee. Three creams, two sugars, just how you like it.” Peter carefully eyed you through his mask, watching your eyes widen at his sudden movement and rushed out words, but then he felt his heart jump in his chest as he watched a warm grin grow on your face.

“You remembered,” you whispered, unable to believe that Peter knew how you liked your coffee, something that Michael would always forget. “That’s so sweet of you Pete, thank you so much,” you flustered out, completely swoon that Peter went out of his way to bring you breakfast. You pulled the cup towards your mouth, carefully sipping the coffee. You hummed in delight, feeling your body become warmer as you swallowed the drink. You leaned against the edge as you continued to sip your coffee, and Peter followed your movements, sitting right beside you. He decided to wait until you finished your food before telling you what he discovered.

“That was amazing,” you sighed in satisfaction, turning to give Peter a grin. “Five out of five stars.”

You waited for Peter to laugh at your remark, but he remained quiet, causing you to become alert. You quickly took note of Peter’s silent behavior, wondering what was on his mind. “What’s up?” you asked, completely unaware of what he was about to tell you. Was it something relevant to the case? Was that why he came to see you or was it about what happened last night? While you were working at the precinct, Peter decided to go to the Avengers facility, using the advanced technology to analyze the note that was left in your apartment, hoping that Friday would detect any traces of substances, DNA, or anything that could give him a possible lead.

“I analyzed the note,” Peter announced, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, making you more worried by the second, “there were traces of vibranium on the paper.” You cursed to yourself as he unveiled the information, but you were a bit shocked once you heard that the infamous metal was left on the note. “Vibranium?” you said out loud, unable to believe his words, “are you sure?”

“95% positive,” Peter affirmed.

“Fuck.” You rubbed your head, confused; while the new intel was good, it also further complicated the murder cases. “I don’t get it, ever since the Wakanda Policy, it’s extremely difficult for anyone to easily obtain the metal. It was supposed to ensure that criminals were unable to distribute the substance to others or through the dark web,” you told Peter. He let out a sigh of frustration, knowing that this possibly meant you were right back to square one.

“There are only two companies in the U.S. that were given access to use vibranium, and both are located in California, so why the hell is it in New York?” you continued to speak, your fists clenched by your sides. Peter carefully eyed you, worried that the intel was going to make you more stressed. "Our chances of finding possible locations in New York will be difficult to find. They could be anywhere, ranging from several to hundreds of locations.” You were beyond angry, not only at the fact that a smuggling operation had been occurring under the government’s nose, but that this also meant it would be harder to find the murderer. You stood up, pacing back and forth as your mind swirled with thoughts; you had to tell your Captain, but she couldn’t do anything because you didn’t have sufficient evidence. If you showed her the note, she would be infuriated, causing even more problems for you.

Peter remained silent, trying to think of possible solutions to this setback. “I can use my suit to help me find locations that have high traces of vibranium. It may seem like a long shot, but it’s all we got,” Peter suggested, waiting for your answer. You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking of Peter’s idea. He had a valid point, the chances of finding the killer were slim to none, but it wouldn’t hurt to start a search. “That sounds like a plan,” you stated, dropping your arm and looking at Peter. “While you do that, I’m going back to our high school to find more information about Elizabeth Monroe, maybe there’s a connection to her and the other victims.” Suddenly, the sound of police sirens echoed throughout the area, causing Peter to stand up and turn to look at where the sounds were coming from. Karen immediately informed him of an ongoing bank robbery a mile or so away, meaning he had to go. Before he went towards danger, he turned to look at you, upset that he couldn’t stay longer.

“I’m sorry, but I-,” Peter tried to explain, pointing his thumb to where the sounds were coming from but you cut him off, a reassuring expression sitting on your face.

“It’s alright, you have other priorities,” you assured him, letting him know that it was okay if he couldn’t complete the plan that was made moments ago. He was a superhero, meaning that he had to fight other crimes, as did you; it wouldn’t be right if you held that against him. However, Peter couldn’t help but feel as if he was disappointing you. You wanted him to stay longer, hoping that you could discuss what happened last night, but you knew it had to be put on hold. Instead, you instinctively gravitated towards Peter, wrapping your arms around his waist, making Peter flustered at your sudden movements, but he happily returned the hug, holding you tighter.

“Be safe,” you whispered, placing your head against his chest. If Peter had the chance, he would hold onto you for as long as he could, but he had responsibilities; it was moments like these that made him regret being a hero. He was never able to live the life he wanted, and he always dragged away from those he loved the most. You broke away from the hug but your arms were still wrapped around his waist; you stared at his covered face, making Peter think that you could see him through the mask. Peter was beyond grateful that the mask prohibited you from seeing his face, which was completely red, but he maintained a calm posture. “Always,” Peter said, stepping back until he hit the edge of the precinct building. He stared at you for a second longer before he jumped off; you stayed on the roof, watching Peter swing from building to building until he was out of your sight. Your heart swelled as Peter was now gone, leaving you alone, but you knew it was selfish of you to make him stay.

You ignored the tingling sensation that coursed through your body, pushing away the thought that circled in your mind before heading towards the entrance, going back to your desk.

- - - - - - - - -

As you walked down the hallways of your high school, you were immediately flooded your mind with memories; you began to take note of what stayed the same and what changed while you were gone. You let out a sigh, fondly remembering the good memories while also sulking, thinking about the times you wish you could forget. Nevertheless, it was nice to see the school again, however, you stopped those thoughts from continuing, morosely remembering the reason you were here. Upon entering the principal’s office, you were met with several other faces, the friends of Elizabeth Monroe.

“Detectives, it’s nice to meet you,” the principal stated, walking around his desk and coming towards you. You offered him a smile, shaking his hand, “I’m Mr. Yeung, but you can call me Brian.” Your eyes landed on the four students who awkwardly stared back, the color immediately draining from their faces; you gave them a curt nod, but their eyes widened, terrified that two officers were here, but you couldn’t blame them. Mr. Yeung stood back, allowing for you and Michael to properly face the students. “There are two classrooms that are at your disposable, so you can privately ask them questions regarding Elizabeth.” You watched all of their faces fall as he mentioned the name of their beloved friend, seeing their melancholic expressions become more evident. You frowned, knowing the topic was going to be sensitive and difficult, but you knew it needed to be done.

“Thank you so much,” you responded, giving him a smile. Since there were only four students, you and Michael evenly split the work, each one of you questioning two students. “We’re just going to ask you a few questions about Elizabeth, anything that could help us with the case,” Michael informed them, “so, how about we go into the classrooms so you guys don’t have to stay after school. Sound good?” The students awkwardly nodded their heads, and two students stood up, volunteering themselves to go first. A girl timidly walked towards you, and you gave her a reassuring smile, opening the door and walking towards the room Mr. Yeung told you about; the room was spacious with big windows, and you took a seat near the closest table, the girl following your moves. You watched her play with her t-shirt, anxiously tugging the end of the fabric, stretching it out.

“Alright, sweetie, if you ever feel uncomfortable, please feel free to let me know and I’ll stop asking questions. I know this is a difficult topic, so I’ll respect your wishes,” you started off, getting her attention; you watched as her body became less frigid, and you smiled at her. You took out a small notebook and a pen, jotting down the date, time, and location, “let’s start with something simple. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Maria Salgado,” she whispered out, placing her hands on the table. You nodded your head, writing out her name.

“Could you tell me how you met Elizabeth Monroe?” you continued to ask.

“We met at the beginning of the junior year in Biology class; she was my partner for our final project,” Maria responded, twiddling her thumbs, “she was a really sweet person. I just transferred not too long ago, and she was the first friend I made.” You smiled as you listened to her words.

“Do you remember the last time you spoke to Elizabeth?” you inquired. You watched as Maria went silent for a second, trying to remember the last time she interacted with her. “It was the night before she was murdered. I had called her, asking if she wanted to hang out Friday and watch a movie with me.” You watched her face fall, saddened that she was never able to see her friend again.

“Are you aware of anyone who could’ve been threatening Elizabeth or who was willing to injure her? Did she have any enemies in school?” There was another moment of silence as Maria pondered once again, but she shook her head.

“No, everyone loved Elizabeth, she was the nicest person you could ever meet. She was popular, so I wouldn’t be shocked if someone was jealous of her, though.” You thanked Maria, jotting down her words, but as of right now, Michael was right. Elizabeth seemed like a smart, nice, and good student, so there’s a low chance of her being a sex worker, but your gut was telling you that something was off, and you intended on knowing what it was.

“Do you know what Elizabeth was doing on 84th Avenue street and New Garden Road at around three to four in the afternoon?” Your eyes remained on Maria as she looked at her thumbs, picking at her skin. You immediately took note of her how she remained quiet, deciding whether or not if she should tell you. “Maria?” you added, breaking the silence; she took her hands off the table, placing them on her lap.

“Sorry, I don’t,” she spewed out, “can I go back to class now?” Her eyes frantically pleaded withs yours and she forced an awkward smile, hoping you would stop asking her questions. While you wanted to continue, you respected her wishes. “Of course, Maria. You can go.” As you and Maria walked out of the classroom, you turned to her as you reached into your pocket, giving her a little card.

“If you remember anything else, here’s my card,” you softly explained, hoping that when Maria was ready, she would talk to you again. You watched Maria smile, but judging by the tight line of her lips and her distant behavior, you knew it was very unlikely. Maria nodded her head before excusing herself and walking down the hallway. You let out a heavy breath, heading towards the principal’s office, ready to bring in the other student. You opened the door, noticing how there was only one student left, and her eyes hastily landed on you before she looked away, an expression of anger embedded on her face; she stood up, brushing past you before exiting the office, going towards the room. You ignored her slightly rude behavior, understanding her rage. Once you were in the room, the girl harshly pushed out the chair, plopping herself on it, her arms crossed. She meanly glared at you as you sat down and opened your notebook, ready to ask her the same questions.

“I don’t know anything,” the girl spat in frustration, a grimace on her face. She impatiently tapped her foot, looking around the room, dreading for the conversation to be over. You gave her a curt nod, disregarding her snarky behavior, ”we’ll see, how about you tell me your name?”

“Maggie Swartz,” she snarled, pushing her hair behind her ear. Despite her attitude, you weren’t bothered by it; she was still a child, so you knew the death of her friend was hitting her hard, and she was releasing her anger to anyone that frustrated her. You continued to have a calm approach as you repeated the same questions, but each time you did, Maggie’s irritated tone became stronger, her sentences becoming shorter. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what was irking her, but you also saw a hint of sadness and fear in her eyes. “Can I go now?” she rudely interrupted you, scoffing as you tried to act as if you cared about the death of her friend. She knew the police really didn’t give a shit; they would do some investigation, but sooner or later, they would forget about Elizabeth.

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. “Not yet,” you remarked, “do you know of any private activities that Elizabeth was doing that her parents weren’t aware of?” You attentively saw Maggie purse her lips as her eyes darted back and forth; she started to scratch her cheek, a small drop of sweat rolling down the side of her face. “No,” Maggie quickly responded, but you knew she was lying to herself and you. You let out a deep breath, placing the pen down and closing the notebook, staring into her eyes.

“I know you’re lying, Maggie,” you told her, causing her to shake her head.

“I’m not!” she argued, her facing growing hot by the second, “I don’t know what Liz did in her spare time, so just - just shut up!” You remained quiet as you watched Maggie reach her limit; she slammed her hands on the table, and stood up, causing the chair to slide back. She huffed and stormed away, but before her hand reached the doorknob, you spoke to her.

“I can see it in your eyes that you’re terrified to tell me the truth, but I’m here to listen, not judge.” Maggie stood still, listening to your words; she bit her lip as her hands began to shake but she didn’t turn around, still contemplating if she should stay or just leave. “Maggie,” you stated in a cold tone,” your friend was murdered; if you have anything that could help us catch the person who did this, then you need to tell me now before another person dies.” You didn’t want to resort to using your intimidating voice, but you thought that if Maggie was bluntly told the horrible truth, she would feel guilty and confess. You knew that Maggie wanted the person who murdered her friend to go to jail and face justice just as much as you did, but something was holding her back.

“I promise,” you continued, hoping your words would coax her back to you,” you’re not going to be in trouble if you tell me the truth.” Maggie’s body swayed back and forth, a melancholic expression plastered on her face as she was reminded of her precious friend. Your reassuring declarations lured Maggie, and she turned around to face you, slowly grabbing the chair and sitting down.

“You promise?” She hesitantly demanded to which you agreed, “you have my word, Maggie.” You opened your notebook, prepared to write when she spoke. She let out a sigh, feeling horrible that she was about to unveil something dark about Elizabeth, but if it meant that it would help Detective Y/L/N, then Maggie felt obligated to speak up.

“Liz told me what was going on at home,” Maggie sputtered, “her oldest brother got into a car accident; he was in the hospital for a couple of months, but when the bills came back, they had to take him home. Her mom had to quit working so she can take care of him.” Maggie wiped the tears that were falling down her face, and you respectfully waited until she was ready to continue. “Elizabeth starting working a part-time job to help her parents pay off the bills, but the money wasn’t enough,” Maggie bit her lip, stopping to look at you, hesitant to tell you the rest. “You can’t tell her parents, not after what I’m about to tell you, it’ll destroy them.” You gave her a reassuring nod, letting her know that her secret was safe with you.

Maggie rubbed her eyes, placing her hands on her lap, “She turned eighteen a couple of months ago, so she started to go on... dating apps,” Maggie stammered. You stopped writing, pausing to look at Maggie. “What kind of dating apps?” Maggie closed her eyes, embarrassed for her friend; she didn’t want anyone to think less of Elizabeth. Liz was desperate and needed more money.

“Dating apps where you could talk to older men, men who...” Maggie didn’t want to continue speaking, hoping you would get what she was referring to. You closed your mouth, your lips forming a straight line, understanding what she was saying. Maggie moved around in her chair, starting to get more uneasy.

“At first, she would just text them, send them sexual photos every so often in exchange for money, but it wasn’t enough to pay off the medical bills, so she started going out, meeting up with various men to have sex. I tried to warn her, but she got mad at me, saying I didn't understand. She started going out to parties late at night, doing drugs, all that kind of stuff,” Maggie revealed, tugging at the skin that was hanging around her fingernails. You continued to listen, asking a few questions from time to time, and Maggie would respond as best as she could, but sometimes she wouldn’t know how to answer.

“Do you know where she went after school on the day she was murdered?” you inquired, but Maggie shook her head, “she didn’t show up to school at all.”

“Do you know where she could’ve gone?” you wondered, hoping that Maggie would know, but as she remained silent, it gave you the assumption that she didn’t. “I’m sorry, no.” You shook your head, comforting Maggie that it was alright if she didn’t know, what she said was helpful enough. You ended the conversation as you noticed Maggie becoming more uncomfortable by the minute, and you stood up, Maggie following your actions.

“Thank you Maggie for your time,” you replied, walking around the desk and escorting her out of the room. Once again, you gave the student your business card, telling her that if she remembers anything that might help the investigation, she should give you a call or show up at the precinct. As Maggie held the card, she remained still, getting your attention as she didn’t walk back to her classroom. “Do you think you’ll catch the person who killed Elizabeth?” she softly asked. In her mind, she assumed the worst; she didn’t trust cops, due to her past experiences, and she feared that the police would forget about her closest friend. However, Maggie felt a sense of comfort and hope as she stared at you; deep down, she knew you would try your hardest. Looking down the hallway, your eyes momentarily gazed at Michael, and you remained silent, not knowing how to properly answer her question. Your mind automatically wanted to say yes, but you didn’t open your mouth, not wanting to give Maggie a false sense of security; this case was complex, as was the killer, but you wanted to remain hopeful. You diverted your attention back to her and placed your hand on her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

“I’ll do my best,” you declared, rubbing her arm before walking away.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @averyfosterthoughts @lukesbabylon @spideylovin @juliebean247 @fangirling12566

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mediaevalmusereads · 3 years

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A Rogue By Any Other Name. By Sarah MacLean. New York: Avon, 2012.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, The Rules of Scoundrels #1

Summary: A decade ago, the Marquess of Bourne was cast from society with nothing but his title. Now a partner in London’s most exclusive gaming hell, the cold, ruthless Bourne will do whatever it takes to regain his inheritance—including marrying perfect, proper Lady Penelope Marbury. A broken engagement and years of disappointing courtships have left Penelope with little interest in a quiet, comfortable marriage, and a longing for something more. How lucky that her new husband has access to such unexplored pleasures. Bourne may be a prince of London’s underworld, but he vows to keep Penelope untouched by its wickedness—a challenge indeed as the lady discovers her own desires, and her willingness to wager anything for them... even her heart.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, gambling

Overview: I don’t know how to rate this book. On the one hand, MacLean has a knack for writing addictive romances, and I found the heroine to be fairly complex and the crux of the plot to be compelling; but on the other hand, there were a lot of tropes I personally do not care for in this book, so enjoying it fully was difficult. I ultimately settled on giving A Rogue by Any Other Name 2 stars because of my subjective experience, not necessarily because MacLean is bad at her craft.

Writing: I found MacLean’s prose to be fairly well-crafted; not only does it flow well, but it also balances showing and telling. Sentences and descriptions are lush and emotive when they need to be, and slow and sensual when appropriate. MacLean also paces her novel fairly well; on the whole, the story (and sentences) moves along at a quick pace that doesn’t feel rushed, and moments that were more emotionally weighty felt like they had room to breathe.

Perhaps the most interesting thing MacLean does with her book’s structure is insert small excerpts of letters in between scenes or between chapters. These letters are written primarily from the heroine’s point of view, showing her attempts to write to the hero from the time he goes away to Eton to almost the present day. In my opinion, these letters were a good way to show that the heroine had a long history of trying to reach the hero, and I think it worked better than MacLean simply telling the reader in some flashback or climatic scene.

Plot: The main plot of this book follows Michael (the Marquess of Bourne) as he seeks revenge on Viscount Langford, the man who took his entire inheritance in a game of cards. After nearly ten years, he finds that Langford has lost his lands to the Marquess of Needham and Dolby, who has added them to his eldest daughter’s dowry. Bourne thus traps the eldest daughter in a compromising situation which forces them to wed, and he must devise a way to get back at Langford while also dealing with the angst that his marriage stirs up. Not only is his wife, Penelope, one of his dearest childhood friends, but Langford’s son is the third part to their inseparable childhood trio. Bourne must thus figure out whether revenge or love for his childhood friends is more important.

On top of that, Bourne is notorious for not only losing his inheritance, but for building back his fortune by running one of London’s most dangerous gambling dens. His reputation, as well as the scandal should the circumstances of his marriage leak out, is sure to cause harm to Penelope’s family by making it impossible for her younger sisters to marry.

Honestly, I was pretty intrigued by this plot. The question of what matters more, revenge or love, was a really interesting promise with a lot of potential for angst and moral dilemma. I think in general, MacLean handled the plot well by making Penelope a formidable force and making the details of the drama feel real. The thing I really didn’t like, however, was how the initial “marriage trap” went down. Bourne puts Penelope in a compromising situation by having her spend the night alone with him. To her credit, she tries to escape, and Bourne was 100% a horrible person for making her stay with him. I honestly felt like that wasn’t the problem, since it created high stakes and a flaw that Bourne had to atone for. Where it went wrong for me was in Bourne’s character and his actions. I think if Bourne had just blocked the door and prevented Penelope from leaving their shared room, it would have been sufficiently bad, but Bourne also picks up Penelope and spanks her before ripping her dress so that even if she escapes, she’s well and truly ruined. To me, picking up a woman and spanking her feels infantilizing, and it’s a misogynistic flaw that I simply can’t get over. I also feel like ripping her dress and exposing her constitutes sexual assault, and I couldn’t get over that either.

Characters: Penelope, our heroine, is fairly likeable at the start. She’s the eldest in a line of daughters whose spinsterhood threatens to ruin her sisters’ chances at finding matches, and her dilemma between doing right by her family and doing something for her own happiness was a compelling one. I liked that she was sharp-tongued to the point where she would say or withhold things from Bourne to hurt him; it made her seem flawed without being overly petty, mainly because most of the things that hurt him were borne out of her frustration over her situation. The main thing I didn’t like about her was that she didn’t seem to have any female friends, and when she met another woman who was beautiful or who may have shown interest in Bourne, she got absurdly jealous. To MacLean’s credit, Penelope never acts in hostility towards other women and eventually develops a kind of friendship with Bourne’s gorgeous housekeeper, but I found this jealousy over a man who does nothing but hurt her disappointing.

Bourne, our hero, is an archetype that I really don’t like: self-hating, brooding, controlling, and violent. While I liked his revenge vs love dilemma, I hated that he was self-loathing to the point of destroying everything around him (when he could have easily just... not). I think more could have been done to make him a selfish, obsessive, manipulating character without making him so controlling of Penelope. His actions regarding their marriage are bad enough; I really didn’t need him to try to control Penelope’s life by giving her no control over the household, over where she goes, etc. and I really didn’t need him to be so violent and jealous that he thought about murdering anyone who so much looked at Penelope.

To be honest, I was hoping Penelope would run away from Bourne and end up with Tommy, a childhood friend who seems to treat her with genuine kindness and worries about her happiness. Tommy was interesting in that he loves Penelope as a brother would, not as a suitor, and respects her decisions even if they are obviously toxic or self-destructive.

Other characters were interesting for their potential to offer commentary. I liked Penelope’s sisters, who embody different personality types and have different views on marriage and scandal. Watching Penelope worry for them was honestly touching, and provided unique opportunities for reflecting on romantic expectations versus realities. Bourne’s colleagues at the gambling den were also pretty great in that they seemed to be more respectful of Penelope than Bourne was. I liked that they called Bourne out for his behavior and didn’t try to control Penelope on his behalf.

Langford, our primary antagonist, wasn’t present enough for me to have an opinion one way or the other. Honestly, I didn’t feel that much animosity towards him - he was an ass for taking the entire inheritance from a 21 year old, but I felt like the blame was more on Bourne. I only reveled in his eventual demise because he got pretty sexist in the final showdown.

Romance: I’m going to just say it: I wasn’t rooting for Penelope and Bourne to be together. Most of their “love story” involved a lot of manipulative, controlling behavior on Bourne’s part, which would have been something to atone for and could have been a good story had Penelope not forgotten about it the instant Bourne showed some basic human decency. A lot of their fights consisted of Bourne being manipulative, Penelope realizing that everything he does is for selfish reasons, then forgetting it because she finds him attractive or because he does something nice. There was no acknowledgment or atonement for him hurting her or using her, and Penelope decides she loves Bourne because he raised himself above his scandal by building back his fortune. For some reason, she finds that admirable, but because we see Bourne ruining people in the same way he was ruined at the beginning of the book, I couldn’t see him in the way Penelope did.

Bourne’s redemption also felt pretty empty. Throughout the whole book, there’s this constant lamentation that he’s not good enough for Penelope, that he will only cause her ruin, but he wants her anyway. He’s also so obsessed with revenge that everything he does hurts Penelope, whether it be ignoring her happiness or going after Langford by way of Tommy. Instead of a slow, steady process where he comes to value love over revenge and where he makes up for all the hurt he caused her, he seems to turn on a dime with maybe 25% left of the book. Honestly, I found their whole romance exhausting after the first hundred pages, and I wished there was more of a gradual ennobling of Bourne’s character, rather than the self-indulgent pity party he seems to exhibit.

TL;DR: Even though A Rogue By Any Other Name has quick, witty prose and an interesting crux at the heart of the plot, the self-loathing, controlling hero and exhausting romance ultimately prevented me from enjoying this book.

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Will you write more about the foursome where reader's Duncan's soulmate ? Please, I need more drama and fluff with them !! I need to see Michael and Jim trying to be nice with her (and failing like idiots), Duncan trying to please everyone, Reader finally having the chance to know them better and... get closer in every senses of the term (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So I have been having an hard time finding time for writing lately and I am very sorry about it, because... a lot of the prompts you sent me are beautiful so... I can’t help but feel sorry, but things are getting in the way!

Still... I should be able to publish something more this week!

Sorry again lovelies and thank you for your patience!

I am going to tag @angel-langdon, because I know she enjoyed the first part of it, but if I am wrong, I am sorry I tagged you and with this being said, I am leaving you to the fic!

WARNINGS: Sexual Themes, Idiots, Slight Mention of Trauma and Fights.

Since the revelation that Jim and Michael didn’t hate you, your relationship with them had surely gotten better, mostly due to the fact that they had started treating you with less coldness and much more gentleness, although they both had still their limits when it came to you.

Still, it was nice to actually not have to deal with them in awful and fighting moods, mostly so that you could relax and have truly fun with them and Duncan, who was literally the happiest man alive.

You had started taking surfing lessons with Jim in the weekend, although you sucked terribly at it, but you didn’t mind it, even when the boy would tease you endlessly, mostly because the same boy would appreciate completely the moments spent together, showing it to you in a much affectionate way than Michael.

It wasn’t that with Michael it was more difficult, because Jim with his abandonment issues wasn’t definitely the easiest of the two, but you had much less interests that you could share, mostly because not only the man was pretty closed off, but he still held some kind of distrust in you.

Still, talking with him about either Jim and Duncan was an amazing experience to bond over, mostly because he would soften up a bit and if you took care of his favorite boys, he would be the one to take care of you, pampering you at home or outside.

That period, the one under the Christmas’ months, you and Duncan had been pretty busy since it wasn’t easy for either of you to pull off your jobs, mostly in such an active period, although you wished no more than to crash in bed with your lovers.

You had been surprised that Jimmy and Michael hadn’t tried to stop you and Duncan from going to your respective job, as they always did with Duncan when they were feeling like he was neglecting them, like two spoiled children, but you just guessed they knew and understood that you were both struggling to give them best you could.

What you and Duncan hadn’t taken in account was the fact that those two weren’t being respectful of your jobs and lives, but were secretly plotting something in silence, to bring you together.

And it all started working when you received a rather cryptic message that morning, about Jimmy having felt sick t the airport and Michael needing a help with him.

Hadn’t you been so worried about Jimmy Boy you would have probably questioned why you had had to go to the airport, but you had been simply too worried and when Duncan came out of the car in front of you, also warned by a similar message, you knew that there might be trouble on your way.

You and Duncan both rushed to the position in the airport where Michael and Jimmy were supposed to be, the departure lounge where you found your boys… completely fine and with two sets of luggage each, in vacation attire and flowery shirts.

Both you and Duncan threw a look at each other, wondering in which strange reality you had wandered in, the moment you had entered the airport, but were quickly ushered in by your lovers, and meanwhile your “sick boy” literally welcomed you with kisses and hugs, Michael stood beside him, happy to see you both but a trace of uneasiness showed in his face.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Duncan, meanwhile you were too taken by cuddling Jimmy who literally purred against you, trying to slip a hand in your jeans “… Jim?! Michael told us that you were sick!”

“… yeah sick of you being apart from us!” he commented as if it was the most obvious choice ever, gaining a dreadful look from Duncan, meanwhile Michael shifted from the side of his lover to yours, clearly ready for Duncan to debunk the entire plan Jim had brought him into.

Duncan took his head in his hands:

“Jim, I have told you…!” he mumbled annoyed, since one of the most obvious causes of fights between Jim and Duncan was how much time the latter spent on his job, instead of spending it with him.

‘You know that I have to go to work to make the money you and Michael spend, don’t you?’.

‘But you just spend any second you can on your work, even when we are together! You always take calls and never make time for us!’.

And although you understood that Duncan was a busy man, you had to agree with Jimmy about Duncan needing some kind of rehab from work that he could spend with you, which you and Michael had discussed many times, having similar ideas on this.

‘I just wished that he would be less… tired from his work… I know that he can take some time off, but he just doesn’t think that those things can work without him, but we can’t also work without him’.

You had comforted both the boys and had tried to talk on your way with Duncan, explaining that, although your work took much less time than his, you understood what he was going through, but this didn’t oblige him to constantly work himself up to the bone, mostly neglecting others.

‘… I am trying, it’s just the most difficult thing ever to balance my relationship and work… I honestly wish that I could stay with you, but I am also worried that something will blow up my empire and who will want me without the money…’.

You had acted as a mediator between them, and you though you were making some progress since Duncan tried to use the phone less and less when he was with you, meanwhile the boys could count on your attention, when Duncan was away.

But then Jimmy decided to throw the entire thing away.

“And you think that giving me and (Y/N) a heart-attack was a perfect idea to get our attention?” Duncan was trying to keep his tone low, mostly because he didn’t want to give a scene, but Jim didn’t seem to care about anything.

“... it was the only way I could get your attention! You constantly are away, huddled up in your office and thankfully there is (Y/N) or we would just be alone for the entire time…!”.

What was the worse thing was that Jimmy looked close to crying and Duncan close to an emotional outburst.

Michael was the one who had the coldest blood and tried to bring some kind of peace:

“What Jimmy did was wrong, I am not going to lie, but we wanted to have your attention, and to make you relax since we know how much time you spend to make money for us to have a nice and comfortable life and we wanted to give you some kind of break”.

Jim immediately pushed himself so that he could side with Michael to reinforce the proposal, meanwhile he looked at you expecting to do the same, but you couldn’t help but be slightly conflicted: Duncan was your soulmate, but you were slowly learning to love those two idiots.

“… you organized a vacation on your own for me?” Duncan mumbled surprised, his voice little, almost as a shy kid receiving a gift.

“Yeah, we did!” giggled Jimmy, meanwhile Michael muttered darkly, sending you an obvious look.

“… but it isn’t simply for you, we also did it for (Y/N)” mumbled the blonde man, turning to you with a shy glance, that got your heart to lightly beat faster, meanwhile you blushed.

“Ah, that is too nice, sweeties!” you didn’t know what to say, because you were speechless due to the fact that they went from literally ignoring you to buying you a vacation in the span of a few weeks “… I am honestly… I don’t know what to say”.

Which meant that you honestly felt like crying a bit, and Duncan, recognizing your emotion immediately, hugged you close to his chest. Kissing sweetly your forehead, before he sent a look to your other two lovers, inviting them to join the hug.

Which they did with no hesitation, immediately hugging you closer with extreme gentleness, squishing you lightly and making you laugh through your tears, meanwhile Jimmy muttered something about ‘not wanting to make you cry for his stupid ass’, meanwhile Michael mumbled about the fact that he couldn’t believe that he had fallen in love with three idiots.

A few minutes later you were boarding in first class for an unknown location since the boys wouldn’t tell you and Duncan where you were going, but it was nothing that champagne couldn’t soothe.

In the end you ended up reaching a tropical island in a five star resort, with a beautiful sight on the beach and even more beautiful room service that you and Jimmy took immediate advantage of, mostly ordering fruit and some other delicacies, starved after the journey.

But Jimmy didn’t seem tired in the least and dragged you and the others, who were barely able to put on your swimming costumes, to the beach, and Duncan had no choice but play volleyball with him, meanwhile you and Michael researched whether this place was perfect for surfing or not.

It was more a cover mission not to be dragged in the “hurricane Jimmy”, meanwhile you two looked at your boys playing heavenly in the water, with you blushing and with Michael having that smug smirk of his which was like ‘Well, he is all mine’.

You both gossiped sipping on your drinks, meanwhile the boys tried to tire each other out in the water, trying to dunk each other, and to steal each other the ball, till they got tired of each other and in the end moved to annoy you and Michael, with cold hugs and splashing you.

You were more cooperative and accepted to immerge in the water, with your hands around Duncan’s neck and Jimmy linked on your back, trying to steal a piggyback ride.

Michael kept, as a cat scared by the water, to himself, till all your stomachs grumbled, and the brats of the relationship had already helped themselves to booking for an entire night the main room in the hotel you were staying, so that you could have a rather romantic and private dinner.

Michael and Jimmy helped you get ready, although it was more Michael, since Jimmy only ate up all the snacks in the minibar and “booed” any dress that he thought was too conservative (which was everything to you), meanwhile Michael gave you some suggestions about what to do with your hair and make-up, even applying your eyeliner, since you simply couldn’t.

Duncan had been waiting outside, although he hadn’t wanted you to know, he was probably phoning some of his companies to let them know he was on vacation, and when you all walked on him, his phone literally fell from his hands, as it happened in the movies.

Michael coughed pointedly to make Duncan close his open mouth, meanwhile Jimmy just thought about snapping a picture at his cute face you just blushed compulsively, and as you moved to get Duncan’s offered arm, both the boys brought you back, grabbing an arms of yours each.

“Brats” he mumbled annoyed, making another attempt, but both the boys growled light.

“… you don’t get (Y/N), because you are a meanie”.

“Can you not treat me like a toy?” you whispered, not wanting to be caught in this war, and they all seemed to settle for a truce.

… till you all settled down and ordered and meanwhile you were waiting for your food, you felt a leg brushing lightly against yours.

You didn’t mind it too much attention, mostly because accidental brushes weren’t uncommon, and although Duncan was pretty affectionate with you, “the brats” hadn’t tried to make a move onto you, in that sense, although Jimmy could get pretty handsy and, more time than not make-outs, with him were messy.

But you had never been all together with the four of them.

You didn’t mind it too much thought, when it happened again, talking calmly with Duncan about work, meanwhile Jimmy sometimes intervened and Michael mostly nodded, listening softly to the both of them, his hand gently caressing Duncan and Jimmy’s back, since he was settled between them and in front of you.

But the third stroke was definitely much more intrusive and clear in its intention, caressing the entirety of your thighs from your ankle to the inner part of your thighs.

You almost bumped your knee against the table at the pleasurable sensation, definitely not expecting it, and all the eyes were on you, and you couldn’t help but feel like it had been Jimmy, because he was at your left and smirked like he knew what was going on, but the next time the stroke happened, Jimmy was turned to Duncan, who you thought was the culprit.

And you sent him a pointed look: couldn’t he stop acting like a horny boy, just for a romantic dinner?

He looked confused, after receiving your glare, but you knew all too well that your soulmate was sneaky, but he was also ruled out as Michael’s hand moved onto your thighs and his legs caressed you again, this time making it clear it was him.

When you turned to chastise him, he just had this beautiful smile on his face, completely smirking at you, knowing what was going on and worst of all, that you were unable to do more, and as he reached down the skirt of your dress, he sneaked his hand into the slit and onto your panties.

He had been the one to suggest the dress with the slit and now you understood why.

Michael had been the most cold to you, so you definitely weren’t expecting it, as he pushed himself through the fabric of your panties and brushed your most intimate place, gently caressing your folds in a distracted way, meanwhile he involved himself in the conversation.

The pleasure going through you was gentle and soft, but it kept you distracted and when Jimmy asked you if what the waiter had brought you was yours, you had to almost get him to repeat the phrase, but worst of all as you were answering it, Michael inserted one finger in you, making you feel every inch of his thick finger, and you were unable to hide a moan.

Thankfully the waiter was graceful enough to disappear, but as he went away Jimmy ducked his head under the table to see what was going on, immediately grumpily mumbling:

“You little shit, Michael!” he screamed, meanwhile Duncan understood what the heck was going on, smirking at you, probably understanding the horrendous teasing that you were going through, right now “… we said we would wait till tonight”.

And Michael, although heartbreakingly, retreated his finger from you, sending Jimmy an annoyed look, before he showed you a teasing smirk, gently enveloping his fingers stained with your juices in his mouth, making you not only blush but molten heat was immediately poured again in your center.

“I just wanted a little taste” he mumbled, almost as child caught with his hand in the cookie dough.

“Well I can’t blame you… lovely (Y/N) here tastes just like cotton candy” mumbled Duncan, sharing an intense look with Michael, a light smile on his face, meanwhile Jimmy just pouted, before he drifted down under the table and before you knew it, your dress was brought up to your hips and your panties down.

“Then it’s only fair that I take my taste”.

#michael langdon #duncan shepherd #jim mason #michael langdon reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon moodboard #michael langdon ask #michael langdon drabble #michael langdon blurb #duncan shepherd reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd moodboard #duncan shepherd ask #jim mason reader #jim mason x reader

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oddaodd · 3 years

Text

· Unwanted Surprises ·

Summary : The reader wonders if she and Tommy have fallen out of love.

Author’s note: I started writing this on Christmas morning and then I forgot all about it. Now, I know we are long past Christmas, but since today I woke up feeling particularly angsty I decided to finish this. So yeah, buckle up.

Warnings: season 3 and 4 SPOILERS, mentions of smut.

The morning before Christmas Y/n woke up feeling melancholy. If it had been any other year she would be downstairs in the kitchen helping Frances prep everything and waiting for Polly, Ada and Tommy’s brothers to arrive. In years prior they always spent the days leading up to Christmas together, but not this year. Y/n had spent the most of the year feeling aloft, it being mainly Charlie and her and sometimes Tommy when he bothered to be home with the occasional visit from Michael ,who was the only one who still stood being in Tommy’s presence after what he had done to his family.

Y/n rolled to the other side of the bed and found it empty, Pristine and intact. Indicating that Tommy hadn’t even slept next to her the night before which as of late wasn’t uncommon. She ran her hand over the cold bedsheets on Tommy’s side an felt a strange twinge of anxiety. A strain of a foreboding feeling she chose to ignore as she got out of bed with a sigh.

She couldn’t contain the silent tears that fell across her cheeks as she made herself look presentable to go do some last minute Christmas shopping with Charlie.

“And can we get those chocolate biscuits I love from the bakery?” Asked Charlie excitedly as they made their way downstairs.

“Sure we can” smiled y/n “and also lemon scones and strawberry cake”

Charlies eyes lit up at the mention of scones “ We are going to get fat” he giggled.

“Well, a bit of extra fat is good for the winter” Reasoned y/n poking his nose.

Y/n stopped by Tommy’s home office before leaving just to let him know that they were going shopping.

“Do you want anything?” She offered softly.

“No” he dismissed. Again, there there was the pang of pain she felt when touching his side of bed.

“Okay, we won’t be long”

“Alright” he muttered nonchalantly.

The Christmas shopping helped uplift her mood. She got lost between decorations, Charlie’s smile and the joy that just seemed to float around the people shopping around her. Making her all forget for a while of her own and her husband’s gloom and of the shitty year they’d had.

When she and Charlie got home they unpacked what they bought before going to the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate to go with the pastries they had bought in town.

She put Charlie to bed and read him stories, once he fell asleep she pressed a kiss to his forehead and went to find her husband who was still in his office.

“What’s this?” He asked looking at the neatly wrapped tiny box she handed to him before sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Just a little something” she smiled. “Go on, open it” She hoped the gift could warm him up and make way for her to spend some time with him.

But Tommy didn’t open it, he just placed it on his desk next to the array of papers that were scattered there “Thanks” he muttered before turning his attention back to the papers and worrying about the black hand he had just been delivered. Of course he hadn’t told Y/n about it yet.

Y/n sighed and pondered on wether to go on with what she had planned to do before entering the room. “Fuck it” she thought and walked towards Tommy. Completely oblivious to his worries about the Italians. She took away the pen he had in his hand and placed it on the table before crawling on his lap, finally earning his attention.

“Y/n” he began in a warning tone.

But Y/n payed no heed to his tone and ghosted her lips over his “I have another surprise for you” she said unbuttoning the top buttons of her dress revealing straps of lacy lingerie she had bought several days prior and hadn’t had the chance to wear. It had been a while since she and her husband had had sex. She understood he was mentally exhausted but she missed his touch and yearned for it.

She felt his hands on her waist, holding her in place and sighed internally in bliss at his touch before pressing her lips to his. Tommy followed along corresponding the kiss for a few moments before pulling away, earning an inaudible whine from Y/n at the loss of contact.

“Not now” he whispered with a sigh leaning back on his chair with Y/n still on his lap.

“Then when?” She asked feeling her heart grow heavy “We haven’t had sex in months” her voice raising ever so slightly at the end.

Tommy rolled his eyes “I don’t know, alright?! I have more important things to worry about” he said rising his voice more than Y/n’s.

Y/n couldn’t contain the tear that rolled down her cheek at his response. She quickly wiped it away before buttoning up her dress. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, unwanted and beyond embarrassed she got off her husband and began walking away from his desk. Her arms wrapped around herself for comfort without another word.

She stopped before opening the door, a question she had very present in her mind scratching inside her heart to be asked.

“Do you still love me?”

As her question spoken in the most broken of voices, rang through Tommys ears, he felt his heart stop. Had his negligence been too powerful to make her question his devotion to her? He hated the answer her question provided and got up walking towards her.

She heard his chair being drawn and remained where she stood, wiping away the tears that had followed that first one. She didn’t want him to see her cry, but she couldn’t hold back her silents sobs when she felt Tommys strong arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

“How can you ask that?” He asked.

She turned in his arms and sunk into his embrace as she snaked her own arms around him. The smell of his cologne and his cigarettes filled her nostrils coaxing more tears from her eyes. It had been a while since they last hugged.

“I love you” he promised pressing a kiss to her hairline before cupping her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers.

Y/n felt all her emotions fluttering havoc inside her at the spark Tommy’s touch caused in her and parted away from his lips, tears still decorating her face. He looked into her puffy eyes with utter adoration and wiped away her tears with his thumb.

“I will never stop loving you” he professed in honest earnest before hugging her again, this time tighter than the first time. “Don’t ever think I will “ his mind traveling at all the times he had pushed Y/n away during the year and beat himself up for it.

The sound of the door opening earned Tommy’s attention and when Frances walked into the scene she immediately apologized for not having knocked.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby, Mrs. But the chef insists on knowing at which time your guests will arrive, he’s foreign” she rushed.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @writeroutoftime @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby angst #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders

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bebewheezy · 4 years

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hi! i’d like to request an ashton fic where ash and the reader go clubbing as friends and he get’s really jealous when a guy would come up to her so he’d basically scare them off 🥺

Notes: this is low key shit lol i’m sorry it’s so cringe but enjoy anyways my loves :)

word count: 1211

The flashing lights illuminated the dark and crowded club I was in with my friends. I couldn’t remember why we had come here, some sort of celebration, probably to signify the end of another tour for them. I was on the middle of the dance floor, squished in between Sierra and Calum’s giant sweaty body, but I was just as drenched. Her and Crystal had managed to convince me to actually wear a dress tonight, which I rarely did, and with how tight it was hugging every curve of my body, I could feel a number of unwanted eyes on me as I was drunkenly twirled around by my two closest friends.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want to come with me?” I yelled to Si as I halted our, no doubt, embarrassing excuse of dancing.

“Yes! I need more vodka,” She giggled while we snuck away from Calum and the rest of the horde.

I was beyond parched, Sierra and I had been dancing together for almost the entire three hours we’d been here before Cal joined us. Knowing I’d have a bad hangover the next morning if I kept going, I went against my irrational side and ordered an ice water to sip. Right as our drinks arrived, Luke came up behind his girlfriend, eliciting a squeal of joy from her, and she downed her glass faster than she should’ve, then tried to pull me back onto the dance floor.

“I’m gonna hangout here for a bit, Si,” I sat down on the bar stool closest to me to rest my aching feet and squeezed her arm. “I need a break, go have fun with Luke.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N/N.”

I was by myself at the bar, I couldn’t find any of the others in our group who tagged along, and I was too tired to go searching for them to make the slight feeling of anxiety from being alone go away. I was only going to be here until I finished my first water, then order another and I’d be back on my way to Sierra or to find Michael and Ashton sitting at the table they snagged when we first arrived. My mind wandered to Ashton, in my still drunk state. We’d been good friends for as long as him and Sierra had known one another, I knew all of them thanks to her, and we’d occasionally flirted while clubbing or smoking a joint at one of Calum’s notorious parties, but lately it felt deeper than casual flirting between two friends. I always had a soft spot for the drummer, but I didn’t know if his feelings were mutual.

Before I could delve more into my dreamy thoughts of the raven haired boy, I felt an unfamiliar arm snake around my waist. When I looked up, I was met with more unfamiliar features. I knew men had been watching me all night, but I didn’t think any of them would have the guts to actually approach me, guess I assumed wrong.

“Hey pretty thing,” His voice slurred.

“Hi,” I shakily said. “Do you think you could let go of me? I’m happy to have a conversation with you, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch me.”

“Pretty thing’s got some spice to her, yeah?” He spoke into my ear. “I like that in my women.”

I pushed him off of me, causing him to stumble backwards a bit, but his arm was still clutching my waist, and I fell off my stool with him. I stumbled into him more, and my heartbeat started racing. I turned my head away from him and closed my eyes, trying to think of a way to get myself out of the potentially dangerous situation without causing a scene, but before I could act on anything, I was being pulled away and into someone’s chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing to my girlfriend?” Ashton’s normally giddy voice sounded pissed, and filled with venom.

Girlfriend? She’s been sitting at the bar alone for the past twenty minutes, some boyfriend you are,” The stranger scoffed.

Ashton didn’t respond, only tucked me closer into his large body and started walking away from the scene, with the man still on the floor, staring up at us. Once we got back to the table, he sat me down in between him and Michael, easing my nerves to know I was hidden between the two bulky Australians. As the night went on, I clung closer to Ashton, feeling comfort in the way he scared off an unwanted stranger, but also called me his girlfriend.

“Hey, Y/N, are you feeling alright now?” He ducked his head to be level with my ear.

“Yeah,” I softly spoke while burying my head into his shoulder.

“Do you wanna head home soon? I was gonna order an Uber once Calum came back to let him know I’m heading out.”

“Yes please,” I responded. Ashton pulled away from me slightly to take out his phone and get us a ride back. My mind back to daydreaming about the man in front of me, how his gorgeous hazel eyes looked concerned every time they had met mine tonight, how he made me feel safer just by being around me. Calum came into my peripheral vision while Ash put his phone away.

“Cal, Y/N and I are gonna head out,” He said as he stood up with me.

“Okay, have fun mate,” He winked at Ashton as we started to walk away. He grasped my hand and led me out the hot and overcrowded club, out into the much appreciated cool night air. Having my hand being clasped in his only made my swirling head worsen, I couldn’t deny the attraction I had for him anymore, I needed to either confess or let my emotions consume me.

“What was that about? With Cal before we left?” I asked once we arrived at a small bench to wait on. I made the mistake of looking into his soft eyes, they changed into ones of embarrassment and worry after I asked him my question.

“I should’ve told you this a while ago,” His gaze fell to his boots instead of looking at me, and my heartbeat spiked in anticipation. “I like you Y/N, a lot, so much that I think I’m in love with you.”

My breath hitched in my throat, he just admitted to what I had been feeling for almost two years. I wasn’t sure if my feelings were as strong as love, but I knew I wanted to grow to love him the same.

“I like you too, Ash,” I said as my left hand reached out to cup his cheek and pull his forehead against mine. “I don’t know if I love you yet, but I can definitely see that happening in the future.”

His hand went behind my neck, and Ashton crashed his soft lips against mine. It was the best kiss I ever experienced, there was undeniable chemistry between us, and it fueled us as his tongue slipped into my mouth for a moment, before he reluctantly pulled with a smirk on his beautiful face.

“Let’s get you home, baby.”

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cr-scribbles · 4 years

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🔪Children:Rekindled Review Chapter 4🔪

Wow, it’s surely been a while since I’ve posted one of these, right? Well welcome back to my Children: Rekindled Review! I went away from this for a bit due to losing motivation to keep on going with these, but due to Children: Rekindled taking up most of my life again and I can’t escape from it, I’m back!

This time, we are going over chapter 4 which is definitely one of my favorites! I love most of the chapters for many reasons and I hope those are went over well during this. This review is going to be much more of me rambling on about the certain situation they are in now since I just spent an entire day writing this at some point and forgot to post it here. The second part is coming soon as well, although it might take a bit.

Here’s the link to the comic itself if you want to read it!! I highly suggest doing so -> http://children-rekindled.top/?c=1&p=1 <-

And also the three other reviews I did which I suggest checking out if you haven’t already!

https://cr-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/190279246139/cr-incorrect-quotes-hello-welcome-to-my-first

https://cr-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/190281892974/cr-incorrect-quotes-oh-no-whats-this-its

https://cr-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/190287963009/cr-incorrect-quotes-i-need-to-go-to-school Let’s begin again, shall we?

Starting right off, Sammy is already being a heckie! Well sort of. While I understand how he wants Michael to come along to listen, he should also realize that pushing it a bit more would just make things worse! Either way though, surely an interesting way to start a chapter. As someone who has read the original, I already knew what this was going to be about when I read the first line since of course that plan is murder. I just didn't expect it to immediately start off with some interaction between Sammy and Michael? I have been loving their interactions recently and especially the one in Chapter 5.

WONDERFUL THING TO DROP ONTO MICHAEL SO QUICKLY HUH?? It would have been funny to be if it wasn't. Like Sammy just says that and Michael is like 'nah I'm just feeling sad because I blame myself for this' and then it's just awkward. What a turn of events that would be! Either way though, Sammy knows something is up and honestly it makes me wonder how much he really knows. He already knows the fact that they don't care about them so would there be anything else? I wonder if that is gonna be expanded on later, but who knows! Sammy probably does. Thinking about Sammy finding that out and only being six years old is heartbreaking to me as well. If he was alone during the time he was able to see that/wrap his head around it, that must have been a really hard time for him. At this point, I just wanna know more about what Sammy went through in the past, but is my babey heart ready? No.

For one, Sammy yet again shows the fact that he knows a lot more going on than he probably should and honestly that has me quite interested. I wonder if he just listens in to conversations that the others have quite often, although with the more recent chapters, he can't really do that at the moment huh- What Sammy says in the middle panel really makes a strong point! It's sad just knowing that this company will hide the fact that multiple murders have happened there, just to save themselves. It's so understandable as to why Michael doesn't want to believe any of this. Once you realize the fact that the company is really this bad, everything just falls apart. I'm sure he's feeling absolutely awful now! Oh no!

Sammy saying that Michael isn't the only one has me curious. Is he referring to himself not wanting to believe it either in the past or something else like the others? I wonder if he believes it's just a common feeling that someone shouldn't believe this is all going on and that's why he says that Michael isn't the only one. I really just hope Michael is going to be ok since being alone with your own thoughts already isn't that great on it's own, but being alone with all of those thoughts about the fact that you brought your friends to their deaths and also yours on your own birthday? That must be awful. I just wonder how Michael is doing even after this chapter, but after it ends, when we actually see him again, it's a week after.

For the first panel, of course he gIVES EVERYONE THE CREEPS, HIS FIRST INTRODUCTION WAS SO STRANGE?? Like he got out of a puppet and was laughing like a crazy person before going to his friendly little self. Being alone in this place for who knows how long really does something to your head and I'm sure of that. I really wonder how long they even think he had been there before he tells them? Also I find it interesting and even a bit funny how no one even seems happy in the slightest when he comes. I mean of course being dead surely does something, but everyone just seems upset that this isn't going to be as important as he's saying or just nervous. Poor Daniel can't even see what's going on even still which already has me sobbing!

OH GOD OH FUC WHY IS THERE THREE SAMMYS OH NO THEY'RE MULTIPLYING all jokes aside, I really do like the little detail of drawing Sammy three times in the first panel. I know it's most likely supposed to show his emotions throughout each of the lines he says and it surely does it well! A personal favorite of mine has always been the one in the middle. I don't know what it is about it, but it has that expression that just draws me in! Sammy all straightened up an with open eyes,, me and the boys love him! I also adore that smile of his a lot!! He looks so smug when he's saying that, just poking fun at his own wounded heart like it's nothing. We do get some more for Sammy which is nice! I really want to see one day how he was even like when he first came there, but that is for another day! I wonder if the way Sammy is not getting to the point right away is causing the others to get somewhat worried about what he's going to say. I would surely be impatient if someone made me wait all day and then just doesn't get to the point, but then again, maybe him just going over it slowly was good to settle them into the fact that they're going to murder soon. Saying it right away would have been much more of a chaotic time because they would have thought he was joking or something.

We finally find out that Sammy can actually take out his knife! What a wonderful thing, but I wonder how painful it is! It's basically taking apart some wound you had gotten, but I would if the pain that was already there increases any bit when he takes it out. If he has to put it back in later, would that hurt as well? It would surely be painful if anything changed with the position, but then again, his appearance and how he was before he died never really changes so I'm sure it just goes back into place. Either way, the feeling must be surely painful! It's like dying all over again by placing the knife right back into the wound that had killed you before. Everyone also lOOKS SO SCARED AND I WANT TO HUG THEM ALL SFDJGFDS Yet again, poor Daniel can't even see what's happening, but I'm sure from his expression that he knows something is definitely off. Sammy laughing and Bianca putting her arm around Daniel to make sure he's safe could have obviously made him realize that something is definitely not right here. Francis also protects Charlie and honestly I love that so much! Francis is a caring boy to Charlie and my poor babey heart just goes sfjdhgfsd

UHH MR SAMMY??? THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT WHAT THEY WANTED!! PLEASE RECONSIDER YOUR OPTION- I adore how his page looks though! The stab wound detail where his knife would be and also his eyes is just such cool details to add! The white and red also shows the intensity of this page, obviously being like 'this is something that is very important', since that is often what the white pages have been. First it was the deaths, not it was Sammy telling them that they have to kill the guard! Sammy convinces you to start killing guards ASMR I also like how this is how it's introduced that Sammy is insane! It's not like the original where he just ends up talking to himself and we all know immediately that trusting him is not a good idea, but in this, a new reader wouldn't really know fully till this scene which is a great place to reveal it! The hints were there, but this is where it's fully confirmed.

Francis being the first to react is so reasonable to me especially considering his personality already. He is so protective, yet can also be aggressive and not really up for taking what people say. When Sammy is just telling them to murder, I'm sure Francis is showing his shock through absolute anger. Sammy basically just told them that what they need to do is be just like their murderer and go and murder innocent people! That's not good at all! Poor kids need someone to get them out of there, but of course no one is there for them. Also I love how Sammy still has those spiral eyes! I love that detail a lot and adore how it stays throughout his insanity since it really makes him terrifying. I always just imagined that it's either constantly swirling or even pulsating. Either one is terrifying to imagine, but it's also great because it fits him and his evil self so much.

"Until we find the right one" So basically they just plan on killing innocent people for the sake of being free? I really wonder if there is a better way to do that than doing this. If the murderer is even smart, he would see the deaths of the night guards and begin to realize that something is going on. He would avoid taking the night guard shift because he wouldn't want to take that same fate. Even if they're hiding bodies, that is still so many people that they are going to end up murdering and stuffing all because they are attempting to find someone so they can be free. It's so sad to think about all the lives that are destroyed due to these murders, but then again, all of them had to go through the same, merciless fate. It's really sad to think about. Also I still adore how the puppet and even Sammy looks. The puppet has such a eerie and terrifying energy to it, especially with the cracks along the mask that are near it's eyes. The teeth in the mouth are also terrifying as though there is something inside of there. It makes me curious as to how it's moving. Could Sammy just possess it while talking about this conversation? If so then he's fast. I also love how the pictures in the background even changed! They look absolutely terrifying back there, just the puppet's face with those teeth and the eyes. It stares into the soul if you look long enough. Also can't Sammy just possess one of the other animatronics? If he wanted to use something stronger than the puppet, he could have just done that, but who knows.

Something I really quickly wanted to point out is how much denial Charlie has been in so far. First it was her thinking that when Sammy said they were dead, it was all a dream. Now it's her not wanting to believe any of this is real. Honestly I really just want her and the others to be ok. This isn't a good situation at all and seeing them all just completely freak out is so sad to me. Like Bianca looks absolutely in shock that she had really waited all day, only to be given the option that they were going to become murderers to find their own murderer. Before, they thought they would only be there for a week or so, but this is much worse. All it is is chance. They could possibly get the murderer in a week, or they could get the murderer in a couple years. Or never depending on if the murderer ever even becomes a guard in the end. They could just be stuck there, having killed so many people, and never actually find the one that had killed them. While Sammy is reasonable to think that the world is unfair cause yes they did die and they were all innocent, but that does not mean that murder is ok. They should be more open for a choice that isn't just going around and killing innocent people till they find the right one, but in the end, from how the fnaf story goes, that is what they end up doing and it's really sad to me.

oHOHO FRANCIS HAS SNAPPED!! BABEY BOY STARTED SWEARING, LET'S GOOOO Bianca is really not wrong with her statement either. I'm sure it is really horrible to be waiting for something all day and in the end, it's just someone trying to convince you that murdering innocent people to find your murderer is ok. I'm sure especially upon hearing that he has been doing this for around 10 years, everyone is terrified because they thought they would be getting out of this quickly. Back in Chapter 3, it was shown how absolutely exhausted everyone was and how impatient they were with waiting till the night. They're going to have to wait much longer than just one day and that is probably scary. Having to stay with this constant pain for years on end. I wonder how alone Sammy was. Was he really alone for 10 years? I thought at least by then, he would have entirely snapped to no return, but apparently he still has a good hold of himself if he wants to be kind. Also it's even more going along the fact that Sammy is insane cause while they are all yelling at him, he's just trying to balance the knife on his finger! His poor finger that is being stabbed by the point of the knife. I wonder if he's numb to stabbing at this point. Throughout the years, I'm sure he would be by now. aLSO OH NO THIS IS THE SADDEST PART OF THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER IM GONNA SOBBB Daniel just beginning to realize that they might be here for a while and Sammy just proceeding to make it worse has my heart. Daniel doesn't deserve any of this! None of them do! But they are still here and the fact that they will probably not leave for so long really is something scary, especially for Daniel. I'm sure for all of them, it's bad, but him being someone who can't see and will have to stay along with that for years to come must really be terrifying. Poor boy needs a hug right now.

This is the second time Daniel has genuinely broke down and it really is a sad sight to see. This time though, it was much worse because he actually fell to the ground since in the last panel, him and Bianca are sitting and he's leaning into her, with his hands covering his face. I wonder exactly why he places his hands in front of his face. Was it a habit he used to do when he was alive where whenever he was about to cry, he would try hiding his face so that no one would see? It would surely be sad since I'm sure putting his hands along his empty eye sockets already hurts enough and is just a constant reminder that he really has nothing in there apart from the blood and flesh that is exposed. Daniel went from doing alright before back in Chapter 3, although he did have some emotional content when thinking about Mina, to him just entirely breaking down over the fact that he is going to have to stay there for so long and he really doesn't want to. Also the others have to understand that if Sammy has been there for 10 years, killing people would definitely just become a normal thing for him which is why it's not 'such a big deal'. Everyone is about to break down into tears and it's so sad to see here. Bianca is the only one that has not shown any sign of being about to break down and honestly I congratulate her for that. Probably one of the reasons for why she is one of my favorite characters is because she is always there for the others when they can't handle the situations going on. I relate to her character or at least my past self does because helping others instead of caring about my own mental health was a habit. I really wonder if we are ever going to get a scene where Bianca genuinely breaks down after she had been there for everyone else in the past and she just gets some comfort from Daniel that time since she had been helping him the most. I really want to either write, draw, or end up seeing that in the comic because that sort of content always has my heart.

Wait a moment- Was Francis actually about to beat up Sammy just then before Bianca stopped him? That would have been really funny if he did, I do want to see someone put some sense into that insane boy. I wonder if Sammy is actually wrong when saying that they don't have a choice. Is there another way they could do this that isn't just going and killing innocent people until they find the right person? They could always try waiting till the murderer comes back to kill and then going after him then, but if that was possible, why wouldn't Sammy have just done that in the first place when the others were dying? I'm sure they were loud enough for him to hear, yet he didn't come to the rescue at all to get them and instead, only appeared when they came out of it. He would want to leave as much as them so of course he would take any opportunity he got to go kill their killer, but he didn't do a thing in the end and now they're all stuck here. I really wonder what happened. I really wonder how Bianca and Daniel are both feeling when hearing them yelling at each other. I'm sure Daniel is not having a nice time at all, especially once hearing what they were saying in the first panel about being stuck there forever. His trembling is just getting worse, poor babey. I'm so glad Bianca is being there for him to give him a protective hug, but apparently it really has done something to her too due to her comforting energy collapsing as she begins to cry. Poor girl also needs a big hug and it makes me so sad that they both just have to sit there and hear this while everyone else is about to beat one another up. Her offering to do it is what Sammy wanted, but I'm sure it's not how he expected this entire thing to go. I don't know what else he expected though, to be completely honest.

Oh the first panel always hurts because you can just see the disbelief for a moment of Charlie's face as she proceeded what she just heard. Sammy also seems pretty surprised which is funny to me because he was the one who wanted to do all of this in the first place. I wonder when that eye effect stopped going over him too since by the time his eyes are shown again, they are gone. Did they leave just now or were they gone by the time he was arguing with Charlie and Francis about everything. I'm so curious as to when it even will show up again, but I love those eyes a lot. What an interesting ghost he is. The blood on Daniel's face looks like it's so much more than before and honestly that hurts a lot. Either it's just more detail on the blood or it's there to show he had been crying before and that made the blood just flow a lot more than it usually did. Either way though, the way he reacts to how Bianca is going to go kill the guard has me so sad. She was the one that was protecting and holding onto him and all she wants is for all of them to be ok, but now she is going and doing exactly what Sammy wanted her to do. Poor Bianca doesn't even realize that it's not going to be ok, especially from what she ends up saying later on in Chapter 5 about this night. It really saddens me how Daniel is just seeing his own best friend go and kill all to make them feel better. I wonder if he feels so helpless at the moment since there isn't much he can do to change Bianca's mind.

I am afraid no one would be joking about the fact that they are going to go murder some possibly innocent person for the sake of their friends being free. I feel so bad for them all since just reading through this page makes me realize how terrified they are of Bianca doing this. Of course no one would believe being murdered on a special day and then coming back as a ghost, only to be told that they need to murder people to actually leave, but what could have prepared them for that either way? Bianca just looks so serious and done with what Sammy had to say. I'm so surprised she is just able to get away those tears so quickly to stand in front of her friends and tell them what she wants to do. She's doing it so that they can have a chance at being free and if it doesn't work, they don't need to worry about it anymore and can just move on to something else that could let them be free. I still don't know exactly what they would try to get that, but either way, it would be a lot better than killing people hopefully. Daniel's small "What if the guy is innocent" is honestly a line I really want to draw because that is most likely something that is on all of their minds. Anyone they harm could be entirely innocent and they are just taking someone else away just like how they were taken. It's so sad knowing how these kids end up getting later on in the story and how they no longer act like this later. I just want to hug all of them and tell them that there is going to be a happy ending..or at least Daniel, Bianca, Sammy, and Francis. I don't think Charlie and Michael could really be hugged anymore.

Oh I absolutely adore this page since we get to see how Sammy goes from being this crazy murderer who is trying to convince everyone to this small child that is afraid Bianca might actually hurt him. Something else I really wanna draw one day is Bianca just looming over Sammy since she is obviously MUCH taller than him, especially in the first panel. If Sammy takes another bad move, he would definitely be hurt by her and that would surely be something interesting to watch. Could ghosts even get hurt? If they have the form they had before they died and it stays like that, I wonder if any of them can actually feel pain or get any more bruises. Is double death real? Honestly I would doubt it since that wouldn't make any sense. You can't just kill something that is already dead. I love how done Bianca is so much. She has been through enough with Sammy and at this point is just not wanting to deal with it anymore and Sammy knows that for sure. Even with the last panel, he looks sO NERVOUS AND IT HAS ME DYING

With the first panel, I love how everyone looks shocked or just sad. Like Francis looks as though he can't believe any of it and the two others just look so distraught that their good friend is going to go kill someone. If I was in this sort of situation, I would probably be either both or just breaking down in tears in the corner of the room because I'm dead and my friends are going insane. I'm still really interested in how there is still those drawings up of the puppet. What causes them to change to be like that? That is obviously too ominous and eerie for it to actually be something around there so do they just change depending on the time? Like if Sammy is going crazy, does the other items around him begin to alter to show that craziness? Either way, both drawings are pretty creepy. Sammy's joyful self surely came back quickly and honestly I love what he says here. He sounds much more happier and less all psycho? Bianca surely isn't having any of it and I'm sure she just wants him to shut up at this point since they both know this person isn't going to be the one. It would be so rare to get it first try, especially after the murder and all, but they are still hoping, I assume. I also wonder how hard it would be if one of the animatronics ended up actually tripping and they needed to get them back up? Like would the one possessing them need to push themselves back up or actually get on the ground as well to do it. I don't really know how possession logic works anymore.

This really makes me curious about if there is a way Bianca can just not possess Bonnie for the time being. Like does she have to be paying attention to be able to possess him? Could she ever do something like what Sammy does where he just gets entirely inside the animatronic, only really coming out when it's necessary? I don't really think that will happen to any of the main five or Sammy anymore due to the story being focused more on them, although it would still be them if they were just possessing the animatronics. Either way though, I wonder how hard it was for Bianca to get rid of those cables attached to the robots and how difficult it's going to be to get those back into place. Do they even put them back into place afterwards or do they let the employees that come around go ahead and do that? That's a question that might never be solved, but hey I'm still curious! Bianca just slamming the guitar on the floor is also pretty funny to me because Sammy seemed to get so upset at first about it just suddenly being dropped, but then he was like 'wait nah i don't even care for this company.' I just want them to mess up with all of the animatronics' stuff, but if that happens, the place would close and they don't want that cause they need more guards!

Not much to say here apart from how I love how they added the shaking to Bonnie. Since Bianca was electrocuted, she would be constantly shaking. It's almost like Bonnie is just a part of her now so her shaking is just transferring over to Bonnie in that way. While it might also just be because it's hard to control such a huge robot with powerful strength, I just love how it's done here. That small detail is really great! Also Sammy still wanting to be on Bianca's good side is really funny to me. He's just trying his best and it's not good due to what he is doing.

Bianca talking about how conflicted she is about this entire situation really pulls at my heartstrings and I entirely believe that it's supposed to be like that. With what she says in the middle panel, she knows well that what she is doing is going to completely harm her relationship with the others, but she also just wants them to be happy. She is conflicted and doesn't know what to do so she's taking the only option she has at the moment which is just follow what Sammy says and get it over with. I feel like through this, she slowly begins to doubt her plan on killing this person because they could be entirely innocent. There is so many difficulties with this risk, but it's the only risk they can really take at the moment because there is nothing else they can really do.

It is really sad to just see Bianca realizing that she doesn't even know what to think anymore. She acted so serious around the others and especially around Sammy, but right when she's actually alone, she just talks to herself about what she should do and what she wants or not. With how she was talking about how she hoped everyone forgave her, I really wanted to see her say 'I hope I can forgive myself' because honestly I feel like that is how she's feeling right now. She knows what she's doing is bad, but is taking the risk for everyone. If it is not the murderer than of course they'll just have to forgive her for what she did, but she would also need to take some time to forgive herself too because that probably stays on her chest for a long while. The fact that she could possibly kill an innocent person and she was really just hoping it was him. Watching these kids slowly fall into what Sammy wants them to do surely scares me for the future because obviously they are going to eventually do it, but it's just going to be so sad to see them go down that path. It's like the path of no return.

~~ fINALLY I GOT THIS DONE!! this took much longer than expected. The next part shall be out soon since I finished it up last night. For now, you have this! Remember to always scream. See y'all next time when I bring the other post!

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf comic #children rekindled #children rekindled review #gore warning #Daniel #Bianca #Charlie #francis #Michael #Sammy #bon's art

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