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earthtooz · 2 years

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in which you give bakugo katsuki the silent treatment

warnings: 2.3k words, fluff fic, slight hurt but mostly comfort, bakugo is sad :( he doesn't like being ignored, i wrote this weeks ago i can't remember shit about what i put in this. UNEDITED ASF!!!

a/n: this was not supposed to be a standalone fic, this was actually meant to be a multi-character thing about giving them the silent treatment but that didn't turn out as planned bc i have no time so i only have bakugo ready lol! hope you enjoy

there’s a pair of crimson eyes burning holes in the side of your head and you can feel the gaze penetrating further and further into your skull with each passing second.

you almost have the nerve to ask when bakugo katsuki learnt how to use his armour-piercing shot with his eyes.

but alas, you bite the inside of your cheek and continue ignoring him, fingers tapping away on your keyboard to finish up your report.

it’s now day three of your silent treatment. your boyfriend has endured 48, painful hours of the punishment that he rightfully deserved and he’s been restless for all 48 hours. it’s a miracle that he’s survived this long because you totally would’ve expected him to blow up already.

how ironic that he’s acting sensible now yet couldn’t hold his tongue when you two were taking down the villain.

the event that caused bakugo’s predicament was actually the report you were finishing, a gang of villains - experienced ones, had broken into a high-end jewellery store and stolen majority of their dazzling diamonds and you and bakugo just so happened to be on site.

you were expecting a robbery chase that happened at least every three days. what you weren’t expecting, was that they were good. like, really good.

one of the thief’s quirks kept grazing you and it didn’t help that the communication between you and bakugo was off that day, so when you meet up with him again after splitting up, unconscious villains in tow with a few injuries to pair with it.

he failed to stop the big words that tumbled out of his mouth.

“what the hell was that? you seriously failed to listen to some simple instructions? you might wanna go back to being a fuckin’ sidekick because of how shit that was and you have the nerve to call yourself a pro?” thundered the explosive blond, whose face was getting closer and closer to yours with each passing second.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you took down the villain, what was the big deal? “excuse me?” you muttered lowly.

that seems to tick him off even more, “you heard me! that was embarrassing to watch, kept getting hit and injured by some shitty extra. we don’t need heroes like you to screw things as simple as a robbery chase up!”

bakugo had been ticked off the second he first entered the agency this morning, so you were aware he was in a bad mood and you probably were the final strike to him letting loose of his temper- but that was not an excuse for the venom he was spitting. no matter how desperately you wanted to retaliate, you kept your cool for the sake of your relationship and also because you were in public. you didn’t need anyone listening to realise that it was you that bakugo was shouting at, so with no sound, you turn around and meet up with the police, villains in hand.

that seemed to shut him up pretty easily, thank goodness to your eardrums.

“we took ‘em down,” you said the second the police scrambled out of their cars. you tried to keep the frustration and anger out of your tone but the way you threw the villains with a little more force than necessary against the police car caused the officers to flinch.

a certain blond appears not long after, now calmer and more guilty-looking.

“thanks you two. we dug through our records and found out that these criminals have been wanted for a while. kept escaping under our noses,” one policeman says with a grateful smile. you don’t bother to return it, blaming it on the cut on your cheek.

“no problem. just call us if you ever need us again,” you tell him with a proper nod.

you and bakugo watch the policemen secure the villains, not moving until the last car leaves your sight.

he turns to you and finally says something to break the suffocating tension between you two.

“you should probably get some first aid for those cuts.”

bakugo tries to sound normal- really, he tries, because the second you turned around and left him in the alley, he realised the magnitude of his stupidity and felt his heart drop to his stomach, fearing for the worst.

with a small ‘tch’ from you, you’re gone the next second from his sight, probably flying back to the agency.

you don’t speak to him. even when he spams your phone with check up texts, even when he returns after patrol, even when he walks into your office whilst you rapidly type away at your laptop furiously, making more typos than you’d like to admit.

“hey,” he says sternly, trying to capture your attention with little success. “c’mon, talk to me.”

bakugo rounds the table and bobs down beside you, careful not to aggravate you by touching you even though it was hard to resist the temptation. natural boyfriend instinct.

“y/n, i didn’t mean what i said back there, i swear,” he continues, “i was just, fuckin’ mad at- i don’t even know, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

it’s beautiful how he can say everything beside ‘sorry’.

“please don’t ignore me.”

he’s frowning, and you really wanna look at him and respond, but you don’t and this dance continues for the next two days. bakugo asks if you want coffee; no answer but he brings it for you regardless. bakugo asks if you need help sorting through the mess of papers on your desk; no answer but he cleans it up regardless, in the exact way you like it. bakugo asks if you need him to run by the support gear department to check up on your costume; no answer but he does it for you regardless and tells you all the updates as well. (he’s not doing it for your forgiveness. this is a usual routine you two have so even without your answers, he knows whether you’ll say yes or no.)

now he’s sitting in your office whilst you finish writing up the report you’ve been neglecting for a while because often, to speed things up, you and bakugo split up the paperwork but with you pretending like he, your boyfriend, doesn’t exist, that wasn’t really possible.

at the 67th hour of no speaking, he snaps. now that you two were officially off the clock and could return home or do as you please, bakugo spends no time picking you up from your chair with little to no effort as a noise of surprise slips past your lips.

you want to ask where he was taking you as he glides through the halls with determination and vigour, his shoes clanking against the marble floor with each step he took, keeping you secured in his arms, pressed against his chest.

there’s a string of curses that you could yell at your boyfriend right now and don’t be mistaken, you could very easily take him down, if it weren't for how much you had missed him.

(you feel slightly terrible for keeping up this silent treatment because that pout on his face is growing by the second, but it’s what he deserves and you wouldn’t relent until a proper ‘sorry’ is given.)

in your moment of zoning out, bakugo has reached his car and seated you in the passenger seat, leaning over you to secure your seatbelt. the kiss he places on your face practically radiates with his complacency at getting you safely in his car.

you huff and cross your arms as he rounds the vehicle to the driver’s side. bakugo hands you the aux and you take it, plugging in your phone to find your shared playlist and you don’t miss the smirk he has when he sees the familiar playlist name pop up on the screen.

the drive is painless enough with no words being exchanged, the music muting the silence that still had some tension lingering in it.

bakugo’s taking you back to his apartment and sure enough, the second the car is parked (perfectly), bakugo tells you ‘don’t move’ before exiting and jogging around to get to your side.

you let him pick you up again with a sigh but it’s all for show, especially the way your heart flutters when you notice he’s hugging you a little tighter this time.

he’s probably afraid you’re gonna run off (he’s had that fear since you first started dating).

sure enough, the explosive blond doesn’t set you down until he steps foot into his bedroom and from there, he throws you on his expensive ass bed with ease, clambering atop you before crushing you with all his weight.

a little ‘oof’ escapes you.

“‘m not getting up till you speak to me,” he lazily threatens, wrapping his arms around your middle. “so you can either get comfy or stop messin’ around.”

“i’m still mad at you, y’know,” you murmur, bringing your hands behind your head whilst staring up at his ceiling. the man lying above you stiffens, taking his head out of his chest to look up at you.

“i’m sorry,” he gruffly confesses, unable to look you in your eye when you glance back down at him with your jaw agape and eyes widened.

yes, he should have said the apology ages ago. yes, it’s been long overdue. yes, you were still surprised that he managed to get those two syllables out of his mouth.

above all, bakugo katsuki is stubborn, unrelenting and powerful, and you’re surprised he succumbed without you suggesting for him to apologise.

you sit up on your elbows, recovered from your brief moment of shock to tell him, “you’re not forgiven.”

“what?” he gawks, outraged, “what else do you want from me?”

“it’s been two days! you could’ve said ‘sorry’ two days ago and i would have forgiven you!”

“fuckin’ hell, i didn’t think of that.”

“bakugo katsuki, are you really that stupid?”

“take it back!”

“not until you take calling-me-a-lame-hero back!”

“i’m sorry! i take it back!” he winces, “you sure know how to kill a man, huh? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean what i said, now talk to me again, y/n, these past few days have been torture!”

you can’t help but smile at his desperation. he never acts like this for anyone so you’re going to enjoy these rare moments of vulnerability for a little longer.

“told me to go back to bein’ a side kick,” you huffed, “that’s not a bad idea actually, maybe i’ll listen and apply to be midoriya’s. or todoroki’s. they’re climbing the ranks quite quickly-”

“-y/n!” he’s whining now and you’re afraid you have a manchild lying atop you now.

“i’m joking.”

“you’re mean.”

“oh so now i’m the mean one? what about when-”

“-shut your mouth!”

“is this another one of your instructions? telling me that i’m unworthy of being a hero to the extent that i need to shut my mouth-”

“-stop it!”

you fall back on his pillows in a fit of laughter and as your giggles fill the room, bakugo can’t help but feel his heart ache. this is what he’s been yearning for for the past few days, moments that are so unexplainably, unabashedly you that he realised he doesn’t want to go another day without it. now that you’re back in his arms, he knows everything will be okay, especially with the familiar feeling of your hands carding through his hair.

“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to be that mean,” he begins after a moment of silence. it takes a few more seconds for him to continue, “i was just freaking out seein’ you get hurt and i was really fuckin’ panicking because those injuries were totally avoidable. i should have protected you and i shouldn't have gone at you for just doing your job. i was scared.”

you can't help but melt a little at his confession, and the way you can feel him frown into your skin whilst tugging you closer, you feel more loved than ever fathomable.

“thank you, katsuki. i appreciate it but you know i can take care of myself, and i know you’re always going to protect me when i need it. i trust you, more than anyone else.”

bakugo closes his eyes in content as he tugs himself closer to you than what should be considered possible. you welcome him for all of his roughness and raggedness. he just might be doomed if he didn't have you.

“we should really move in together,” you suggest.

“yeah, yeah we should.”

after a few minutes of silence, you begin to speak up, “i have my night patrol soon, you have to let me go, babe.”

he squeezes you tighter, “but i literally just got you! i’m getting my three days worth of attention, fuck your patrol.”

“that’s not very heroic of you,” you murmur, “now let me go.”

“no.”

above all, bakugo katsuki loves you.

hai hai :D thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed that PLS CONSIDER REBLOGGING!!!! i hope that i didn't fuck anything up too much lul i'm so tired but anyways, YAH REBLOGS HELP OUT SO MUCH SO PLS!!!!! one click 🗣🗣🗣

that's all from me, hope to see you around the blog! - earf

#idk what this was #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

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simpxxstan · 11 days

Text

lunch

pairing: elementary school teachers lee seokmin x f.reader

genre: fluff, fluff and some more fluff. a tiny pinch of angst.

summary: as a veteran at sebong elementary school, you don't let any of your juniors get too close to you. the new science teacher, lee seokmin, doesn't seem to get the note, though.

word count: 9.6k words

rating: pg 13

warnings: use of a few profanities, mention of alcohol and illegal gambling. reader is a bit cold in the beginning. slight age gap.

a/n: SO MUCH FLUFF my body hurts but it was so nice to just write good guy dokyeom after all that angst for wonwoo. i'm sorry to any hyungwon fans who may be reading this though T_T

would love to hear feedback!! reblogs and comments are so so much appreciated <3

this is part of the boys over flowers series featuring booseoksoon + chan! this is the first instalment in that series.

It was a day of much ruckus and excitement. The teachers and students were all waiting eagerly to meet the four new teachers who were joining Sebong Elementary School that day. Children with bright cherub faces peeped from their classroom windows, some crowded in the corridors, and teachers whispered loudly, as they all waited to see the four faces of the new teachers emerge from the Principal’s office. And when they finally did, a loud, collective gasp was heard rippling through every room and corner of Sebong Elementary School. And then the bubble broke, as loud whispers and giggling overtook every other noise, as the four men smiled at the kids and adults gathered through the school. They shone brighter than the tubelights on the ceiling-

“Okay, I think you’re exaggerating, Sohee. I’m sure they don’t have 1000 watt smiles.”

“Oh, Y/N, but they do! Even an ice queen like you is going to melt when you see them. They just exude warmth, kindness, and handsomeness. They look like idols, really!”

“Now you’re definitely exaggerating. Park carefully, and don’t daydream please. I’ve been nervous from the moment I let you drive my car.”

“It’s a third-hand car. I should, in fact, smash it, so that you can buy something better. The government’s just moments away from declaring it as junk.”

“This is all I can afford, Sohee.”

“Car loans exist!”

“Bankruptcy exists!”

Sohee huffs, and you meticulously check the rear view mirror to ensure she parks neatly. Once done, (read, once Sohee has finished touching up her lipstick and her mascara, and put a few cute hairclips in her long brown hair, cute by her metrics), you both step out of the car. The heat has become harsher, and you’re a little taken aback by the sting of sunlight on your skin. But it feels good to be out again after that stupid bout of fever which had kept you away from school, and consequently, your life.

You meet several students getting out from the bus in front of the school, some smiling and already chattering with their friends, others shyly holding on to the fingers of their parents. Some of them wave hi to you, others loudly squeal their welcome backs. Your morning grumpiness is slowly wearing away, and you can feel energy bubbling in. It’s barely been the start of the year, and the little ones are very, very gradually warming up to the idea of being away from home for longer than three hours. It’s a trying time for their teachers, and you’re grateful that you don’t teach the youngest class.

On the short walk from the parking area to the school, and it’s such a miracle that Sohee doesn’t start talking about the four new teachers, because you’re frankly tired of hearing about them. It feels like they don’t exist, and even if they do, they’re going to be massive letdowns compared to Sohee’s descriptions. Sohee does have the habit of hyperbole.

But you fall headfirst into it as you slide open the door to the staffroom. Everyone stands up and greets you, as you’re one of the earliest members of the staff. You’d like to think that their greetings are out of affection, and not just respect, but you don’t mind. Majority of the staff is quite young, and people look up to you as the sunbae, and it’s a position of respect you crave and enjoy. It’s not like you’re great at showing how you love them either. You can just hope that they get to know about it from time to time, and don’t hate you for not being too affectionate.

As everyone stands up, you bow to the general crowd, and greet them back, but you’re also welcomed by four unknown faces.

Oh. They must be the new teachers.

Well, Sohee wasn’t really wrong-

Sohee immediately sparks up and begins talking about how you had really high fever, and every evening she found you lying inside your bed, covered in blankets like a burrito, messy in snot and sweat-

“Okay, that’s enough. Sohee, please spare them the details of my ugly illness.” You’re embarrassed and quite red all over, and out of the corner of your eye, you’re watching the reactions of the four new men. Sure, you may not care much about what other people think, but it’s your first impression after all. Everyone is quite vehemently cooing at you now, and the four men have confused, but concerned expressions on their faces.

Minseo comes to the rescue, when she diverts the topic to introduce the new faces to you, and you’re grateful for the first time to hear about these new teachers.

“This is our sunbae, Y/L/N Y/N! She’s one of the first teachers at Sebong Elementary School.” “Aaah, Minseo-yah! You make it sound like she’s old!” Sohee scolds, but you don’t mind. You sure feel old after the way that fever broke your immunity like a twig.

“Aah, sorry. And Y/N Unnie, these are our new joinees this year!” She gestures towards the men, and they bow. You bow in return, and take a full look at them, smiling back at them.

“Hello! I’m Lee Chan, I’m a ‘99 liner! I’ll work hard and show my best side to you, sunbae!” “Good morning! I’m Boo Seungkwan. Nice to meet you!” “Oh, sunbae, hello! I’m Kwon Soonyoung, I’m also glad to meet you Y/N-ssi!” “And I’m Lee Seokmin! I’ll work hard, please take good care of me, sunbae!” They shake your hands like dominos, and your eyes linger a second too long on the last one, the tall one with the brightest smile. 1000 watt seems about right? “I’m happy to meet you too! Let’s work hard for a long time!” You smile back, and there’s a collective Fighting! through the room, before the school bell rings, and the cacophony of kids entering their classrooms breaks the silence of the school building.

It’s lunchtime, and you’ve already forgotten their names. Sohee insists that you sit with them at the same table for lunch, but you’re not hungry enough to take lunch. It’s been a tiring day, and you just want to sip your iced americano and finish the pending work on your desk in the staffroom. Missing a week of school is as burdensome for teachers as it is for students. There are piles of things left to be done, and you assign yourself the task of finishing filling in the register with the names of the students for that lunch break. The staffroom is empty, and you’re happy to work in peace.

You’re so focused on your work that you don’t even notice when a tall man walks into the staffroom sometime in the middle of the lunch break, peeps at you from his desk at the other corner of the room, and then leaves.

It’s finally Friday, and that’s how you’ve spent the last four lunch breaks. You’re finally getting through the pile of work at a steady pace. On top of it all, the Principal has promoted you to the Head Teacher of Science Department, as the previous head’s tenure is over, and that means all the science teachers have to approve their lesson plans for this term through you and you’re also in charge of allotting field trips for scientific experiments.

That’s why Lee Seokmin ambushes you when you’re about to leave at the end of the school day. “Sunbae, I was wondering if you could perhaps look at my lesson plan once? Maybe you could go over it during the weekend?”

You halt your actions of packing your bag, and carefully take the folder from the outstretched hand of the tall man towering over your desk. “Umm, I could look through it now.”

“No, I mean! I’m sorry I didn’t know how to approach you earlier, Sunbae. I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you from heading home, I’m really sorry-”

“Please stop apologising, Seokmin-ssi. It’s not a big deal. It’s better for me to go through it now in your presence, rather than take it home. I’ll be able to discuss it more smoothly with you then, in case any changes are needed.”

His puppy brown eyes become tiny slits as he smiles wide. You realise that his hair is draping over his forehead in black curls, and the white shirt he’s wearing reveals the column of his neck very elegantly. He does look good enough to be an idol, you think.

“Seokmin-ssi, come take a seat here. I won’t bite, in spite of what you may have heard-”

“Oh no! The kids are all praise for you. I’m so thankful to be succeeding you in the classes, because you’ve set such a strong foundation for the students. You’ve made my job a cakewalk, truly.”

“I’m just thankful that you deal with the younger ones now. I enjoy teaching them, but sometimes they can…” You smile lopsidedly, and Seokmin grins. “I’ve heard that I have a lot of patience, sunbae…” “And you have a lot of fighting spirit that we tend to have when we’ve just joined the school. You’ll manage.”

And then the conversation halts. It flows in bits and pieces, as you flip through his lesson plan and discuss changes with him, speaking from experience of having taught these same classes six years more than him. His lesson plan book is very colourful, filled with stickers from cartoons, and brightly drawn smiley flowers. Something in you makes you think that maybe he’s not just doing this as a show for the kids, but also because he likes to do it. He’s very animated in every statement he makes, hand gestures all over his face, but he quietens down when he realises you’re no longer looking at his face, and would rather just get through the work quickly. You’re not annoyed at him, no. It’s just a little overwhelming to see all this energy being thrown at you, and it makes you tired, wondering how to reciprocate it. So you just silently finish your task, and bid him goodbye. He offers to drop you home, but then you say you have your own car, so he gives you another smile and with a natural ease, hops on to his electric bicycle and rides off into the road.

Seokmin-ssi, you realise, doesn’t want reciprocation. He greets you cheerfully every morning, whenever you see him in the campus, whenever you’re making eye contact before leaving for the day, and whenever you both arrive at the same time at school. He doesn’t just say hello, but he also asks if you had a good weekend, if you had a good sleep, if you ate breakfast, if you’ve recovered fully from your cold, if you’re taking your vitamins. It makes you more uncomfortable than before, confusing you whether he’s just buttering you up as a sunbae or whether he’s genuinely this nice. It’s also a little worrying because it makes you feel like he’s trying too hard to be close and you don’t want to be a bother for him, so you hope he takes the hint. But he obviously doesn’t, because the next time you walk into the staffroom determined not to leave your desk, and instead enjoy the peaceful solitude of the staffroom to recharge your battery, you notice a very neat lunch tray sitting on your desk with a note attached on top, “Sunbae, please don’t skip your meals!” It takes you aback, and you stare at it for a good four minutes. Finally you realise you’re too flustered to eat it, and you just keep it aside and get back at your work.

When Seokmin comes back from his lunch break, he makes the mistake of looking at your desk to see if you’ve eaten, and there. He makes eye contact with your razor sharp eyes looking at him from above your reading glasses. He walks up to your desk and says, “You didn’t eat, sunbae?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I- just wanted to-”

“Firstly, Seokmin-ssi, I’m not skipping meals. Secondly, I don’t know if this is normal for you, but I’d appreciate it if we could be harmonious as colleagues. I don’t need you to be my mother for me and feed me. I’m an adult and I know when to eat.”

You can see him gulp and fumble, and for a second, you think you’ve been too harsh. You almost backtrack and apologise, scared that the little light in his eyes is going to go out, but he speaks faster, “I just don’t want you to fall sick again, sunbae. I’m sorry if I was too presumptuous. I’ll do better from now on.” And without another second, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you speechless. The light in his eyes may not have gone out, but you sure were too mean. Afterall, he was just being nice to you, wasn’t he?”

So, the next week, when you’re finally on track and completed all your pending work, you walk into the cafeteria looking to take a lunch break. And you spot Seokmin sitting with Chan on one table on the teacher’s side of the cafeteria. Chan is a sweet boy, and you want to make amends with Seokmin, so you carefully walk across the room to their table and ask, “Can I have lunch with you?” You ask them both, and Chan instantly begins to clear space for you to sit down, but you’re distracted by how wide Seokmin smiles, and you know the ice has melted. He’s forgiven you, so you gently sit down next to him.

It’s a mistake. You hadn’t accounted for how broad he is, and how much he moves his body while speaking. His thighs inch closer to yours with every movement, although very much unconsciously. Even though you’re both sitting, he’s still taller than you, and it makes you shy.

You’re thankful when Soonyoung joins you across the table and you can distract yourself by speaking to him. “Sunbae, it’s so nice to see you in the cafeteria! We rarely ever see you outside the staffroom.” You smile as wide as you can, your mouth full of food. Chan joins in, “Yes, sunbae! Seokmin hyung’s been so-” “We’ve all been worried,” Seokmin interjects, and you’re hit by a pang of guilt. It is pretty natural for coworkers to care about each other. Especially since you’re their senior and they must be looking to make a good impression.

“I’ve been a little busy with all pending work. The start of the year can be stressful for us senior teachers.”

“I hear Seungkwan hyung is being put in charge of the after-school creche duty?”

“You’ve heard right, Chan. He did apply for it, and given his congenial personality, I think he’d do well if he joined the creche roster.”

“A roster? That means he won’t have duty every day?” Soonyoung asks you.

“Yes, there will be two teachers alternating from Monday to Friday.”

“Oh! Someone lucky gets two days only!”

“We try to ensure even distribution through the month,” you say. “Plus, of course, there can be others volunteering from time to time. So for example, next month, there’s a storytelling week at the creche. Sohee and I will be volunteering for that week as storytellers- that way, the ones responsible for the creche can have a week’s leave from the extra duty.”

Soonyoung and Chan nod in understanding, but you’ve noticed Seokmin is extra quiet, uncharacteristically even. “Do you enjoy the cafeteria food, Seokmin-ssi?” you ask him, speaking softer so that Chan and Soonyoung can’t hear you. It must surprise him, because he looks up at you with wide, boba eyes, and he looks more like a puppy than ever. “I do! The variety is good.” “I’m glad. The caterers recently got changed. The previous ones were seriously falling behind on quality.” Seokmin smiles and eats a big bite of rice and soup, and you chuckle at the comical way his mouth fills up.

You didn’t even think Seokmin would remember. In fact, you’d forgotten that you’d mentioned it yourself.

But he does. He doesn’t just remember, but he also brings a bag full of old picture books.

You swear your heart stops the moment he enters the hall where the after-school creche is organized and hands you the bag. “These were books my mother had kept for ages even after I’d finished reading them a million times. Thought I’d use them somehow, instead of just letting them gather dust on shelves,” he says as he smiles that pretty, wide smile again. It’s been long enough into the new semester now for you to get used to both Seokmin’s smiles, so you can bask in it. The children bask in it too. Most of the tiny members of the creche know him from the class where he’s teaching about animals, and they squeal in excitement. “Aah, Seokmin-ah, you really didn’t have to. You could’ve gone home and rested for the weekend.” His smile drops, and you mentally slap yourself. You really should take care of your words better, so you rephrase it, “What I meant is… you don’t have to do this out of your way.” “I’m not… going out of my way. I just thought I’d come and watch you, sunbae. I want to learn how to handle little children even better.”

So he sits in a corner of the hall, Byul and Jiwon sitting on his lap, while his eyes are fixed on you. You’ve taken the storytelling class two days this week, and this is your third day, so you really shouldn’t be so slippery, but something about how he’s looking at you so intently is making you stumble and fall over your words, and your pronunciation often comes out as jumbled as the three year olds sitting in front of you. You’re made even more aware of Seokmin’s presence when snack time arrives, and the kids are too distracted with the picture books to pay attention to their food and eat. Thankfully, Seokmin uses his charm and somehow gathers everyone to sit in a circle around the table. The children have incessant questions, some about the characters they met in the story, and some random questions too, like Are you married, Teacher Seokmin? It doesn’t matter that you pause in your movements to hear his response, a wide-eyed Minhyun looking confusedly at you, wondering why your hand holding his candy is stuck mid-air. It also doesn’t matter that your heart paces up when you see Seokmin glance in your direction before loudly proclaiming that he’s not married.

The parents arrive soon after that, and then there’s only a crying Byul left, who’s wrapped in Seokmin’s arms as you three wait for her father to arrive. You wonder for a second, how did you ever handle kids, because when you see how Seokmin handles them, you think you’ve done it all wrong for years. He holds her two tiny hands in his own, places her in between his legs and quietly brushes her hair while whispering more imaginary stories about the elephant Byul saw earlier in the picture book. You feel unwanted in this perfect scene, Byul going perfectly silent as she listens to Seokmin talk. But then, honestly, who wouldn’t be in rapture of this beautiful young man?

Byul’s father arrives twenty minutes later, and Byul gives Seokmin a little peck on his cheek before she leaves his arms and goes off with her dad.

“Sunbae, thank you for letting me be here! I had so much fun, and I also learnt so much from you.” You laugh, “I doubt, though. You’re such a natural with children.” He smiles, “That’s just because I have a lot of cousins. But it’s different handling kids at school. I always have to be extra-careful with them because I’m a complete stranger and not a relative.” “You’re right, and that shows in your care too, Seokmin-ah.” He blushes, and you smile as you lock up the hall and finally make your way to leave the campus. Your back hurts from sitting on the floor for so long and you’re surely glad to go home.

“Sunbae, did you bring your car?”

“Aah, no. Today was Sohee’s carpooling turn, she left early. I’ll just take the bus.”

“Let me drop you home, sunbae! It’s late already.”

You pause, and turn to look at him. His hopeful face, still radiant after the long day. And you feel that same overwhelming feeling take over you. Till now, Seokmin has only given and given, never expecting anything in return. He’s extended a helping hand without you asking for it, he’s reminded you for meals even when you’ve ignored him, he’s been nothing but kind to you. And if he’s doing this even after three whole months of him joining the school, then it can’t be just buttering tactics.

“I don’t want to get you late, Seokmin-ah.”

“I won’t, sunbae. It’s not a worry, honestly.” He bites his lower lip, his eyebrows furrowed as he asks you again, “Please let me drop you, sunbae.”

It’s been years since a man has been this kind to you. Kind enough without coming off as a creep. A part of you is wary, but something in Seokmin’s eyes makes you feel guilty for ever mistrusting his intentions.

“Alright, Seokmin-ah. Noona owes you one.”

You can see the stutter in his eyes even before you hear it in his voice.

“N-noona? Oh. Noona! I’ll drive you safely!”

And he does. Diligent, puppy-like, kind Seokmin drives you home quickly and safely. For the first time in years, you sleep with a smile on your face.

You enter the Principal’s office to find a very nervous-looking Seokmin standing next to the Principal. “Good Morning, Mr. Han. Is something wrong?” “Yes, good morning Y/N. I’ve just received a complaint from a parent, and as the head of science teachers, I’d like you to look into it once.” “Of course.”

Then you turn towards Seokmin, who is standing very upright, but you can see him nervously twitching his feet. “Seokmin-ssi, is the parent here in school, or have you received a written complaint?” Seokmin’s voice is barely audible the first time he speaks, so you take a couple of steps to be closer to him. “Don’t be so nervous. Please tell me everything so that I can help resolve this.” He looks at you, his eyes still wide, and the tension obvious in his face. But he takes a deep breath and says, “They’re here, in my science classroom.” “And can you tell me the gist of the matter?” “I… I… I had asked her daughter to not draw with crayons on the walls of the science classroom. And one time… I’d asked her daughter to bring more nutritious food to class instead of chips every single day.” He says softly, his eyes focused on the blue linoleum tiles on the floor. You take a deep breath. As you’ve grown more senior, you’ve eventually detached yourself from the classes of the youngest students, those below four years of age. So naturally, you’d not gotten into messes like this for a long time. But with your experience, you know just how to deal with such cases.

So you excuse yourself from the office and walk down to Seokmin’s homeroom, gesturing him to enter as you both walk into the classroom. It is deserted, except for a very grim-looking gigantic woman standing next to a tiny girl with even tinier braids. “Good morning. I’m Y/L/N Y/N, Head of the Science Department.” “Yes, well, I’m hoping you’d be more competent about it all rather than Mr. Lee here.”

You forcefully smile tightly and ask, “Please let me know the details of the matter.” “Where do I begin! Mr. Lee has been… very dictatorial with my daughter. First he forbids her from colouring, and then he forces her to starve herself! It’s absolutely ridiculous that a teacher can do such things!” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokmin shrink further away into the corner, his eyes wide.

“Based on how well I know Mr. Lee, I can’t imagine him forcing a child to starve themselves. Correct me if I’m wrong, but did he ask her to bring a different set of food for lunch, rather than chips?” “Yes, but-” “And that was purely based on nutritional concerns, Ma’am. As teachers at Sebong Elementary School, we want to ensure our students receive proper nutrition at their growing age. And I can assure you that chips are not the most nutritious food your daughter can eat every day.” “I’m a working mother-” “I’m sure you can buy a fruit or toast a single slice of bread along with a slice of cheese along with the chips, if you’re so busy.”

The woman in front of you stands speechless for a second, before continuing in her boisterous tone, “But who are you to dictate what I feed my child?” “Nobody, truly. But Mr. Lee is a kindhearted man, who cares for every child in this school, and even his colleagues and peers like me. As a teacher, he has the best interest of his students in mind, you see.” “Certainly can’t be more than that of her mother.” “Of course, which is why I’d advise you too, as would any other paediatrician, that only chips is not the diet a four-year old child should be exposed to on a daily basis.”

The woman takes a step back. Her grip on her daughter’s fingers loosen, and the child takes a step forward. “Miss, I really like the grapes Mr. Lee gave me the other day! That’s why I’ve stopped eating Eomma’s lunch!” She smiles at you, and you bend down on your knee to meet her at eye level. “Is that so? But darling, you should always eat what your mummy’s giving you. Good girls don’t skip meals, understood?” She nods her little head very seriously, so you pat her once on her head. Then you stand up again and look at her mother. “I see your daughter does enjoy eating grapes. Perhaps you could buy her some fruits for lunch.”

She tilts her head a little bit, looking fully like a kid who’s been punished for being too outspoken, and honestly you’re glad to have made that effect. Some people can be so entitled and so rude, and it leaves such a harsh impression on softer teachers like Seokmin. Which is exactly what you see when the parent does leave with her child a few minutes later, as the man, who hasn’t spoken a single word since entering the room, comes up to you gingerly.

“Noona, thank you so much. I was so- so scared.” You smile at him as warmly as you can, “Please don’t be. It wasn’t your fault at all that some parents can misunderstand even the best intentions of teachers. It’s pretty common- as time goes on, people will just find more flaws, whether it be in your teaching skills or your child-handling skills. You just need to be less nervous when things like this happen. If you ever need help in these things, of course I’m always here… as are your other seniors. But it’s best if you learn to handle these things without taking them too much to your heart, unless you see there is genuine room for improvement for you.” He nods throughout, and his eyes have become round like a puppy’s eyes again. “I will introspect, Noona.” He laughs a bit, “This honestly isn’t the first time someone’s misunderstanding my intentions. But I will try harder to be more clear and not … not be presumptuous,” he says, looking deep into your eyes, before he bows and leaves the room.

As you stand there in the classroom, alone you realise that the situation oddly reminds you of a similar conversation you had with him at the beginning of the semester. When you’d asked him to keep his distance and not interfere … all while, he was just trying to be kind. Oh god. You’d been just as rude as the parent had been today, hadn’t you? Oh dear god. No wonder he’d looked so downcast and rejected after that.

Sohee’s thousand-day anniversary at the school is coming up so Minseo’s put on a surprise party at her house. It’s not a surprise to just Sohee, but also to you. “Oh, why didn’t you let me know earlier, Minseo-yah?” “We would, but you’ve just been so busy with the end of term reports and grades that we didn’t want to bother you.” “Well, that’s not something only I’m doing. I’m sure you all were busy too.” “But none of us are head of departments, you know?” She giggles, and you know it’s not a jibe. But it still feels bad to not be able to contribute when everyone is contributing in some way or the other.

So you order a six-pound blueberry cheesecake for the party, knowing blueberry to be Sohee’s favourite flavour. And, as expected, it’s a party hit. It turns out to be the favourite flavour of a lot of people, even Seokmin, who helps himself to three slices, and you’re just glad to see them all enjoying it. There’s drinks, pizza and music playing in the background. And although the teacher community at Sebong Elementary School is not too big, you’re a lot of twenty-six people, and you’re thankful that Minseo comes from a rich family that has a big house. And yet, it feels cosy and familiar. You barely attend parties or social gatherings, and unless it’s family occasions, having been out of the dating scene for years. But this type of party seems fun to you- perhaps it’s you growing old, perhaps it’s you no longer finding staying up late exciting, perhaps it’s you realising that getting wasted is not as interesting as you used to think it was in college. So you settle for being the woman who’s dressed in a sweater although it’s barely autumn, already mentally classified as a spinster for almost everyone you meet, thirty and with no life outside of work, and you’re happy. You’re happy right now, sipping a cocktail and eating the fried chicken Minseo’s airfrying and constantly supplying to the party, celebrating your closest friend, Sohee. You know that although Sohee’s a couple of months younger than you, and definitely has a more active love life, she’s just like you at heart, and she’s the sister you’ve never had. As she gets drunk (you can tell it’s the first time in a long time by the way she’s getting tipsy even faster than she usually does), she leans over to smooch you loudly on the cheek, and you laugh and give in to her. It creates a loud wave of cheers across the room, but it’s such a warm moment. She clinks her glass with yours and rests her head on your shoulder, while raising a toast to the teachers at Sebong Elementary School. There’s another round of cheers, and then your phone reminds you it’s ten pm, and you should be heading home because it’s a school day tomorrow. The buzz feels good, and you want to stay longer, but you’re not drunk enough to forget your responsibilities. And so the party gradually disperses. You hug Minseo and thank her for organising the wonderful party, and somehow Sohee manages to stand up on her feet steadily. Seungkwan takes the duty to drop Sohee home as he lives near her house, and before you can say anything, Seokmin takes on the responsibility of dropping you home.

“I don’t want to impose-” “But I insist, Y/N Noona.” “Why do you always insist, Seokmin? I feel like I’m a burdensome sunbae, not a nice sunbae.” You try not to pout when he leads you to where his car is parked and opens the door for you. He giggles, his face red with the dopamine (and drinks) from the party. “You’re just fishing for compliments, Noona. You know I never think of taking care of you as a burden.”

Perhaps drinking that third cocktail was a mistake.

But you did drink it, so you lean over the centre console of the car and say, with a soft giggle, “If you say things like that, Seokmin-ah, people are going to misunderstand and think you like like me.”

“But I do like like you, Noona.”

You almost miss his words while waving goodbye to the other teachers standing on the pavement in front of Minseo’s house, waiting for their rides.

Almost.

“What?” You spin your head so fast it gives you whiplash, and you feel like you’re instantly sober, the way you become alert instantly. Seokmin’s looking at the road as he drives into the main road, his eyes bright by reflecting the street lights. “I do, Noona.”

“No- no, you can’t. Are you serious, Seokmin-ah? Because if you are, you can’t.”

“Why?”

There’s a red light, and he’s looking at you, the street lights shining on his face and the gentle handsomeness of his features are glowing in their full glory. This isn’t the first time you’ve found him awe-strikingly beautiful, but right now, he looks positively angelic. His eyelashes form delicate shadows on his cheeks, and the way his hair gets swayed by the wind coming in from the open car windows makes him seem even prettier.

“Because… you’re so… young. And fresh, and beautiful. And I’m thirty, I spend my days working and my nights reading romantic classics, and I’m so boring a-and you deserve better.”

His mouth twists bitterly, and he says, “But none of that is true, Noona.”

“It is, Seokmin-ah. You barely know me.”

“But I want to. I’m just asking for a chance.”

You stay silent for a long time. In the sparse traffic of the night, you’re reach your house quicker than you’d thought.

“I don’t want you to make a mistake, Seokmin-ah. I shouldn’t be someone you like more than simply as a sunbae.”

He pauses, then replies, “If you don’t want to give me a chance, that’s okay Noona. I can make peace with it. But you can’t ask me to stop liking you, Noona. My feelings are mine.”

You don’t say anything on the rest of the journey. You don’t have anything else to say. You can’t even be harsh to him because what he’s saying is logical. You cannot take away his right to like you, even if you don’t think it’s the right choice for him. You’re an adult, he’s an adult, you both have your own opinions and choices.

It’s only when the car does reach your house that you attempt to say something.

“I feel sorry for making you come all the way to my house to drop me. Do you want to come in to eat something? I had some dakgalbi made for tonight’s dinner before I got to know about the party.”

He looks at you for a long time. You can see the wheels turn in his head, before he says, “Okay.”

Your flat is on the third floor, so you’re patiently climbing the stairs. Seokmin makes light conversation, breaking the ice, and you actively try to respond. You don’t want him to feel dejected, but you also don’t want to feel like you’re taking him to your house because you pity him after you outright rejected him.

Your efforts go to waste when you see a figure sitting on the floor in front of the door to your apartment.

“Hyungwon?”

Seokmin pauses behind you, as you stand stunned on the last staircase before the landing, and the man you addressed looks up at the two of you. Even in the dim light of the single bulb lighting up the stairwell, you can see that he’s very wasted. “Y/N-ah! I- I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you haven’t changed, have you? Straight to the point. No hellos, no-”

“Yes, Hyungwon. What are you doing here?”

He sighs as he stands up. “I missed you.”

Your head starts to spin. It’s like you’ve been transported back to 2022, when Hyungwon had confessed to you that he’d gambled away all your money, and that he’d been doing so for the last seven months, and that was where he was spending all his evenings at instead of the evening college you’d enrolled him into and whose fees you thought you’d been paying.

Your head spins again, and you’re stumbling back until someone catches you midway before you tumble down the stairs.

“Noona!” that someone whispers in alarm in your ear, and you realise it’s Seokmin.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, not Seokmin.

Why does Seokmin, out of all people, have to see this?

“Seokmin-ah, leave-”

“Ooh, who’s that?” Hyungwon takes a step closer, and takes a drink out of a soju bottle he’s holding in his left hand. “Boyfriend? You’re still into pretty boys, aren’t you?”

Seokmin pulls you closer to him, your back nearly touching his chest. “Who are you?”

“I’m Hyungwon, Y/N’s first love. You better get out of here, kid.”

“What do you want, Hyungwon? Don’t bullshit with me about missing me. No apology, no regrets, and now you’re suddenly at my doorstep?” You carefully break away from Seokmin’s gentle clasp, and walk towards your ex-boyfriend. “You want my money again.” The lanky man in front of you grins, that fucking lazy, pretty grin you’d fallen so hard for in college.

“Y/N, where’s the love gone, jagi? Why are we talking about money?”

“Fuck off, Hyungwon. The love was gone long before I even broke up with you.”

He lifts his free hand and tries to reach out to you. “Jagiya-”

“I’m not your jagiya! Hyungwon, I’m not giving you anymore money, so you should just leave! And stop coming to me every time you want money, for god’s sake! We’re done, Hyungwon.”

The man in front of you falls to his knees, “Please, I’m begging you, Y/N-ah! I’ll get into serious trouble if I don’t repay this debt by the end of this month! Y/N, for the sake of old times-”

“Hyungwon, please don’t! I’m not giving you any of my money, no matter how much you beg.”

His hand wraps around your leg, “Y/N-ah, please, just hear me out once! I am sorry for everything I did, and I’m so willing to amend my ways-”

“Please leave, Hyungwon-ssi, you’re making Noona uncomfortable.” Seokmin suddenly says from behind you, and you walk backward down the stairs until you’re again close enough to him that you can feel his body heat on your back. It makes you feel oddly safe.

“Who are you to say anything about Y/N, huh? You don’t even know her for long, I bet! Y/N and I dated for seven years!”

“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known her, Hyungwon-ssi. What matters is that right now, she feels safe with me, and not around you. So please leave, Hyungwon-ssi.” You don’t even realise when his hands have come to wrap gently around you, not quite touching your body, but caging you away from the man who’s looking at you both with frantic and desperate eyes. You don’t know he knows that you’re feeling safe around him, but you’re so grateful. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll have to call the police, Hyungwon-ssi.”

The man in front of you gulps. “Fuck! I’ll be back, Y/N-ah. And then I’ll see where this boyfriend of yours will be!” And he storms down the stairs, cursing under his breath, and you’re still shaking in Seokmin’s grip.

Five minutes pass before he asks you, gently whispering in your ear, “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You slowly turn around and face him. You’re awfully close to him, and as you stand on the higher staircase, you’re eye-to-eye with him. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, Seokmin-ah.”

“No, Noona. I’m just upset thinking of what would happen if I hadn’t come up with you here tonight.”

“No, don’t be. He’s… harmless. He’s all talk and no action.”

“Has he been here before?”

You bite your lip. You don’t want to tell him things which will involve him deeper into this. He doesn’t know anything, he’s a complete stranger to it all, and yet, he is right, you do feel safe around him. But that doesn’t mean you burden him any further.

“Seokmin-ah, I don’t want you to get worried about this. I can take care of myself, it’s just Hyungwon. Like I said, he’s only bark and no bite.”

“Noona-”

“I’ll be fine, honestly! I’m sorry you had to see all this happen.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then he becomes silent again.

“Do you want to come in-”

“No, Noona. I’ll just leave. I won’t take any more of your time. Have a good night, Noona.”

“Seokmin-ah, pl-”

“Goodnight, Noona. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he walks away, and you’re left there, unarmed, uneasy and all alone, swimming in your own thoughts. You feel like you should run after him like in the movies, and stop him from leaving, but your legs feel like lead. There’s a sinking feeling in your heart and a sense of emergency, and it’s not because your ex-boyfriend came up to your door asking for money to waste again.

You don’t go to school the next day. The day after that is a Saturday, thankfully a holiday, and you can spend a day moping in regret, stuffing popcorn into your face and pretending like you’re not an adult anymore and you can live without worrying about responsibilities and keep time standing still.

It doesn’t work.

Sohee arrives to your door on Sunday morning, sunglasses perched on her head. “Where have you been, sweetie?” She doesn’t wait for you to respond and shoves herself into your flat.

“Nowhere, Sohee.”

“You’re pouting, your bed isn’t made, and I can smell caramel popcorn. Something’s up. Tell me, baby.”

She sits down on the couch, pulling you down next to her, and taps twice on your shoulder prompting you to spill. So you do spill.

You tell her every thought that has crossed your mind these last 48 hours. How Seokmin confessed that he likes you. How you’d turned him down instantly. How Hyungwon had turned up at your door and ruined the night after the party. How you’d practically shooed Seokmin away although he’d been nothing but protective and helpful to you. How you’d wallowed in regrets since then, having realised that you’re such a coward.

“Yeah, you are a coward. In what right mind would you turn down Seokmin when you’re so down bad for him?”

“Huh?”

“Dummy. You can’t even realise your own feelings, and you act like you’re so mature. Age is truly just a number,” she sighs before digging into your bowl of popcorn.

“I don’t… I don’t have feelings for Seokmin.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He’s… he’s just a hoobae.”

“So are Chan and Soonyoung and Seungkwan. Why do you always blush when you talk to Seokmin, even if it’s over something as mundane as lunch? Why do you so often go to his classroom and aid him in his lessons during your free periods, even though he doesn’t necessarily ask for it? Why do you talk more to him than to your other hoobaes?”

You stay silent for a second.

“Y/N-ah, think carefully about this.”

“I shouldn’t think of him in this light… he’s so much younger.”

“You’re just three years older than him, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re so old!”

“But…”

“Oh fuck, this isn’t about age, is it? You feel like you’re going to be to him what Hyungwon became to you? Predatory?”

You’re left silent again. Sohee understands from your (lack of) actions, and jumps across the couch to hug you. “Oh, Y/N-ah. Stop beating yourself up for that. It’s been so, so long. Stop blaming yourself for something that’s not even your fault.”

“But Seokmin deserves better, don’t you think?”

“And you deserve better than beating yourself over an ex like Hyungwon. You deserve a second chance at love too, baby.” She hugs you tightly, and you don’t know when tears have started rolling down your cheek.“I’m a coward, Sohee. I can’t get the courage to even accept my feelings.” “Then let Seokmin help you. Honestly, with the way he always looks at you like you spin his earth and you’re his god, I don’t think he’ll have any issues waiting for you to realise your feelings.” You blush and hide your face in her neck at her sly words. She’s too outspoken for her own good.

“What if it’s just a crush for him, that’ll pass soon? There’s not much about me that will keep him interested in me after a few months.”

“You’ve got to stop being so pessimistic. Again, just because one guy was stupid and decided to rip off your hard-earned money and your blind trust in him, doesn’t mean another guy will! I’ll say it again, you deserve a second chance!”

The doorbell rings right then. You get up to open the door, to find a letter on the doormat.

“It’s from the local police station.” You pick it up and show Sohee, who’s equally confounded as you are. “Well, open it, girl!”

It’s a letter stating a level one restraining order has been requested for your protection against Chae Hyungwon, who has repeatedly disturbed you while drunk, and demanded money for illegal gambling purposes.

And the request has been made from Lee Seokmin.

“So you just have to sign it and that’s it? Hyungwon out from your life forever?”

You nod, unable to reply, you’re still shocked by the letter. So is Sohee, it seems. Because all she can manage is, “Wow. Y/N, you’ve gotta marry him.”

“Who?!”

“Seokmin, of course. If this is his level of devotion-”

“You don’t think this was unnecessary?”

“Y/N, are you for real? He’s literally looking out for you and doing what you should’ve done ages back, and you think he’s overstepping boundaries? He’s one gem of a person seeing that he’s doing all this without even you prompting him and even after you literally rejected his confession.”

You take a deep breath. She’s right. She’s so right that your heart hurts and you want to bend down on your knees because your body feels limp. How much more does Seokmin have to give you for you to be able to start giving back to him? One voice in your head chastises you. Love isn’t quid pro quo! You fight back. Fair. But at least you’ve started admitting it is love. The voice laughs at you, leaving you vulnerable.

“Well, he said yes.”

“What?” You spin your head to look at Sohee who’s holding your phone in her hand.

“Seokmin. He said he’ll meet you at the park near school. In about an hour.”

“Did you just text him from my phone?”

“I did, for your own good. Because if it were up to you, you would have overthought yourself into a hole you’d dig for yourself and not made a move at all even when he’s literally played all his cards and proved his commitment.”

“Aishh, you’re so annoying,” you playfully shove her.

“Your annoying friend just wants to see you happy,” she pouts cutely, and you laugh at the face she’s making.

“Okay, now go get dressed. You have to finish this game now, Y/N. I’ll drop you to the park.”

When Sohee drops you a little far away from the park, kissing your forehead and wishing you fighting!, you find Seokmin already sitting on a bench on a relatively empty side of the park. He looks up at you as you get closer, and you wave at him. You feel so timid, so nervous, just walking up to him, his handsomeness hitting you with full force as you see him in more casual clothes than ever before, knowing that this man, this beautiful man likes you. And he wants you, and he’s proved how far he can go to care for you, even when you’ve rejected his care.

“Noona, how are you? We were worried after you called your day off on Friday.”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t sick or anything.” You laugh awkwardly. “Just, taking some time to ponder over things myself.”

“Oh.” He sits down on the bench, the loose end of his checked shirt gently swaying in the breeze.

“And I regret how I acted that night. I’m sorry for being so harsh-” he starts to say something, but you gently put a finger on his hand, and that makes him shush. “I’m not just talking about Thursday night. I’ve been harsh to you ever since the beginning of the year. You’ve been nothing but kind and generous to me. But… time has made me unnaturally wary and I find it so hard to accept attention or even kindness easily. Thus, time and again I’ve pushed you away, yet you’ve kept coming back. It’s true that I didn’t realise your intentions earlier, but I know, deep down in my heart, that I’ve liked you too for quite some time.”

His eyes are wide, and you move an inch closer to him on the bench.

“I thought it was silly, to have a crush on a man so obviously young like you. I’m thirty now, turning thirty-one in a few weeks. I’ll always be older than you, less energetic, more boring and to be honest, I think it’s not even age but just experience which has made me like this. And I denied myself your attention because I thought you deserved better. And I still do. You sent a restraining request to the police on my ex-boyfriend on my behalf. You… you’ve gone out of your way so many times, even when I’ve been so harsh with you. You’re the one who’s precious, you’re made out of stardust. I’m just a broccoli that’s stacked in the corner of the fridge because no one wanted to eat me when I was fresh and no one should eat me now because now I’m stale.”

“That’s a ridiculous comparison. Even Soonyoung comparing himself to a tiger is better than you comparing yourself to a broccoli.” He finally says, and you laugh before you realise it.

“Stop calling yourself old, Noona. Three years of an age difference isn’t a big deal. If the reason you’re holding yourself back is Hyungwon-ssi…”

“It is, I won’t lie. Hyungwon and I started dating when we were in college. We were so good, for so long. Until the pandemic came and took his job. That’s when he started getting into these bad habits. He took to gambling, and to stop him, I enrolled him into an evening college, hoping he’d get more productive and use the time we were stuck at home to get himself more educated and get a better job soon. It turned out he was wasting all my money on gambling, again. Every fees I’d paid to him had actually gone down the drain at a local club. And he even had the audacity to refuse me when I told him I want to break up with him.”

“Well, but he eventually did. That didn’t stop him from coming to my doorstep ever three or four months, asking for cash. Sometimes I’d drive him away, sometimes I’d give in if I was too tired to argue with him and if he was sober and dangerous.”

“Would you have given him money that night… had I not been there?”

You look down at your hands in shame. “I may have. I don’t know.”

“Do you still have feelings for him, Noona? It’s okay if you do have feelings, you know.”

“God, no. I don’t have feelings for him. It’s just that… we were together for seven years. We’ve grown up together. Seeing him in a pitiful state like that makes me sad. And I hope each time, that this will be the last time he’s at my door asking for money.” You look away, too ashamed to look at Seokmin. But he uses a hand to gently grip your chin and turn your head towards him.

“You’re too kind for your own good, Noona.” You blush at the proximity, and the gentle way he’s touching your face. “This is why I like you. Because you’re so human in a world where everyone is plastic. I don’t like you because you’re a sunbae I want to impress. I don’t like you because boys like me find older women hot. Well, I do find you hot-”

“Seokmin!” You haven’t heard someone call you hot in so long, and it makes your skin burn.

He giggles, and slowly flattens his palm to cup your cheek.

“I think the restraining order should do the trick, then. He’ll not harass you any longer.”

“Thank you. You’ve been brave when I’ve been a coward.”

“That’s what makes us a good team, Noona.”

You finally make eye contact with him, gazing into his doe-like brown eyes which are crinkled at the edges with a hint of a smile and wide with hope.

“Your eyes are so pretty, Seokmin-ah. Just like the rest of you. Especially your heart.”

“It’s pretty because it belongs to you, Noona.”

You blush harder, and turn your face away from him. “I’ll not like you any more if you’re cheesy like this.”

“But it feels good to make you blush like this. How dare you compare yourself to a broccoli, huh? You have no idea what you do to me- when you enter any room, you light it up with your aura, you make it so much warmer, so much brighter. And then a fucking broccoli?”

“Stop! I didn’t mean it to be so deep. It’s just what I ate for lunch because that’s all I had in my fridge.” He giggles again, and you giggle along with him. You realise you’ve both moved closer to each other on the bench, until your thighs are touching.

“Then you’ve got to have lunch again. No one should exist by eating just broccoli.”

“With you?”

“If you’d like that.” He cups your other cheek with another hand, and you can feel your skin on fire. His eyes are gently inching towards your lips so you slowly close your eyes. “If you’re going to kiss me, know that I don’t have much experience in that. I’ll be your hoobae in that regard, sunbae.” You hear a soft giggle, and the kiss doesn’t arrive, so you open your eyes again, just to see him blush all over. “God, you’re so pretty, Noona. I could look at you all day.”

“How about you tell me when you started liking me?”

“Umm, I think that time you came to eat lunch with us for the first time? I think it all started with me just trying to get you to eat meals on time. Good girls don’t skip meals, as I heard someone once say,” you playfully hit his chest lightly, and he laughs. “I don’t know, maybe it was before that. But that afternoon, I realised my crush on you was so serious. I was getting tingly all over every time our shoulders touched.”

“Oh! Well, thank goodness it wasn’t just me.”

“Really? From so long ago? Oh, Noona, if you’d just told me earlier…”

“Shh!” You giggle, “I didn’t even realise anything. I was just desperate to get you to forgive me.”

“But I was never angry at you. I could never be.”

You smile again, and he pulls you closer until your entire body is touching him. “So are you giving me a chance, Noona?”

“Yes. I like you, Lee Seokmin, and I’m still shocked that you like me, after everything you’ve had to see.”

“Well, I do. I like you so much that I might be seeing stars over your head every time you come into my line of sight.”

You giggle again, your insides turning to mush. “Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N Noona?” His voice is, oh, so soft, like a melody. And his eyes so earnest, like an autumn leaf. “I’d be very honoured to, Seokmin-ah.” “May I kiss you?” You feel yourself getting red with anticipation as you quietly nod your consent.

And so he kisses you. Like your very own Prince Charming, he kisses you, one hand on the back of your neck, and the other cupping onto your cheek, first gentle and slow, and then a little more passionate, as you pull him closer by holding on to his slender waist. “Fuck, Noona. You taste so sweet,” he says while taking a breath, and then attacks your face all over by placing tiny pecks all over your nose, cheeks and forehead. “I like you so much, I think I might die from it.” You laugh once again at his words, unable to say anything else because he’s effectively shut you up through his incessant kisses. When he finally moves his face away from yours, his 1000 watt signature smile bright on his face, you say to him, “Not before we have lunch together, though.”

a/n: read the stories of the other three boys here! lmk your thoughts <3

tagging: kokoiinuts

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cameronspecial · 28 days

Text

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 7)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Content

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Rafe finally gets another chance and he is going to do everything to hold on to them.

Masterlist

His sobriety is still continuing strong near the end of June and he has been sending Y/N updates every week. She would respond to each update but would leave general questions about how she was doing unanswered. He loves that even with her anger towards him, she still takes the time out of her day to help support his relapse recovery. It shows him she was encouraging his recovery not only for Stella but for him. By some miracle, at the beginning of July, Rafe convinced Y/N to meet him without Stella. He knew he shouldn’t push it on that point. He offered to make her dinner at his house and it hurt him that she wanted to meet him at a coffee shop because it is a public place.

The watch on his wrist keeps getting readjusted from too tight to too loose as he waits for her to make her appearance at the cafe. He bought her a lemon buttercup and a lemonade refresher. His focus is on her food, so he doesn’t notice her sliding into the booth across from him. He looks up at her with the desire to fix everything between them. “Hi,” he breathes out, being welcomed by her vanilla perfume. She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “Hey. What did you want to talk about?” Her eyes find the stuff he bought for her and bring it towards her with a quiet thanks. He smiles when she takes a bite of it, not knowing exactly where to start, so he cuts to the chase. His hand searches for the small disc in his pocket and he brings it back out with something in it. He places it on the table, sliding it toward her. She picks it up and examines the engraved poker-like chip in her hand. Her face shows her confusion, “What is this?”

“It’s my one-month sobriety chip. Well, from before I relapsed.”

“Okay, and what am I doing with it?”

“I want you to keep it to prove how serious I am about getting sober again. I want to earn it back from you. When I’m one month sober from this day on, you can give it back to me.”

“Rafe, are you sure you want me to keep this? You may have relapsed, but you worked really hard for the chip. Plus, from what you’ve been telling me, you’ve already been sober for almost two weeks. That should count toward something.”

“I know I have been, but I think it will mean more to me if I count my month's sobriety from the moment you take the chip.”

She nods her head, piecing together what he means. “Okay, I’ll take it. But you can’t see Stella until you are two months sober, you can talk to her on the phone. And then you can’t be alone with her until you are six months sober,” she dictates. Her hand wraps around the chip and puts it in her pocket. She makes a mental note to put it in her special box on her bedside table. Gratefulness flashes on his face, “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me that you are giving me another chance. You won’t regret it. Stella and yo- Stella is your daughter and she means everything to me.”

——

Every single day for two weeks Rafe has been calling Stella at six. It didn’t matter if he was in a meeting or eating dinner with his family, he called without a fail. Stella was more than happy every time they called. She would give him a detailed account of her day and then demand he do the same. It was so cute every time she would give him words of encouragement when he told her he had a hard day. However, with each call, she craves to see him in person and always begs for him to come over. He wants to say yes, but he knows what Y/N will say and he knows that he is still working toward gaining her trust.

“Daddy, I want to see you,” she begs, her voice verging a whine. Rafe’s heart wretches at her words, “I know, little witch. But Daddy is still a little sick. I don’t want to get you sick. How about you tell me about Sabrina? Are you still married?” The girl shakes her head, not understanding that her father can’t see her. Y/N whispers to her daughter she needs to say it out loud for Rafe to hear. “No, Sabrina and I got a divorce. I don’t want to be married anymore. It’s hard work, but everyone wants to be mine,” she informs her dad. He gives a little chuckle, “Being married is hard. And of course, everyone wants you, you are a Cameron. Everyone wants a piece of us.” “My last name isn’t Cameron?” she puzzles with a tilt of the head. “No, but you are my daughter and I am a Cameron. So you are one too,” he explains. She looks at he mother for confirmation, beaming at Y/N’s nod, “I’m a Cameron and a Y/L/N. That’s cool.”

Rafe notices the time and hates to have to end the call, but he has to head to his therapy appointment. “I’m sorry, Stella. Daddy has to go,” he apologizes, cringing at the tiny protest she lets out. “No, Daddy. You can’t. I didn’t tell you about my drawing and lunchtime yet. Why can’t you come to play with me?” she cries. It is obvious to her parents that the weeks away from her father are catching up on her. He shakes his head, “I know, little witch. I’m sorry. Forever and always?” “Forever and always, but don’t go Daddy,” she implores, gripping the phone like it’s her lifeline.

Hanging up on his daughter’s sadness is hard for Rafe, yet he needs to so he can get to his appointment on time. Even though she knows the call ended, Stella keeps holding it to her ear in hopes that her dad will come back. Her tears have not stopped. Y/N’s gut twists at her daughter’s despair and brings Stella into her lap. She pets the little girl’s muddy blonde hair, giving kisses to the temple as comfort. Y/N knows she said Rafe had to wait two months to see Stella in person, but she knows what she needs to do for their daughter.

——

He isn’t expecting the call from Y/N after his therapy. Normally, he is the one to call her when he needs her support. She never really calls him unless Stella asks, so he isn’t sure why she called. Worry runs through him as he thinks of everything that could be wrong with Stella. She has a terminal illness. She was kidnapped. Or worse of all, she died. The calm in Y/N’s voice as Rafe answers the phone calms his mind. “Hey, can we talk?” she asks, playing with the paper on her bed. Rafe hums, “Yeah, I have all the time in the world.”

“I’ve been thinking and I think you should come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? It hasn’t been two months yet. I haven’t gained your trust yet.”

“Have you been sober since you promised me you would be? Have you been going to all of your meetings and appointments?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Then I trust that you are doing everything in your power to get sober. Right now, Stella needs her Daddy. So come over tomorrow for dinner.”

His smile can rival the Jokers, “I’ll be there, but let me make dinner. I don’t want to put you on the spot with cooking. I know how much it stresses you out when it comes to figuring out what to eat for dinner.”

——

Y/N has kept Rafe’s visit for dinner from Stella and she can’t wait to see her little girl’s reaction. At the knock, Y/N suggests the child answer the door, which confuses Stella because Y/N hates it when she answers the door. Stella’s tiny body struggles to open the door, but eventually gets it. The gasps she lets out could break the sound barrier and she throws herself into her father’s arms. Rafe tips back a little bit, having a hard time adjusting his daughter in his arms and the bag of groceries in his hand. “You are no longer sick, Daddy?” she questions, taking his cheeks in her hands. His head moves up and down, “Daddy is still sick, little witch. But I’m not so sick that you will get hurt. I thought we could make cream of mushroom soup for dinner. Do you like that idea?” Stella cheers in excitement and takes her father to the kitchen.

Rafe orders Y/N to sit on the island stool and rest while he and Stella get dinner ready. “You are doing such a good job cutting the mushrooms,” Rafe presses, watching his daughter cut the mushrooms into uneven slices with a plastic knife. He is so patient and guiding when he cooks with Stella, it makes Y/N wonder what it would be like to have Rafe be there for Stella’s first. Would he be the type of dad to hold her by her arms to help her take her first steps or would he kneel opposite her, beckoning her to come closer? Would he spend every single second trying to get her to say Dada as her first word? She knows he would go all out with the first birthday. She would probably have to talk him down from trying to rent out Buckingham Palace for the party.

As they mix the soup on the stove, a little bit of the hot liquid splashes on Stella and she weeps at the contact. Rafe is quick to wrap around the girl, carrying her toward the sink to run room-temperature water on it. “It’s okay, little witch. Daddy is here. He will make it better. We are going to get some water to make it feel better than put a bandaid on it,” he enlightens to her, getting a bandaid out from the cabinet. He doesn’t bother to ask which bandaid Stella wants because he knows she will want the black cat one. He puts on the bandaid, giving it a kiss. Stella’s tears quieten, “Thank you, Daddy. Forever and always.” Excitement quickly replaces the hurt she was displaying, “Look, Daddy, look! I’m wearing the necklace you gave me.” She proudly holds out the diamond necklace so it catches the light. Rafe grins, taking the pendant in his hand. “I see. It still looks amazing on you. And what did you think about when you looked at it?” “I thought about how much you love me, which is this big,” she holds her hands wide apart. “And that when you look up at the stars, you think of me. Did you think about me, Daddy, when you saw the stars?” His lips touch the crown of her head, “Every night, little witch. Every night.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the scene in front of her. He is so caring and attentive to the girl. He may not have been her father for very long, but he knows her like the back of his hand. Y/N’s mouth starts to feel a little parched; her lips slapping against each other. Rafe notices her thirst and he heads to the bag he brought to pull out the passion fruit Jarritos he bought for her. He uses the edge of the counter to pop the top off and it causes wetness to pool in between her thighs. He brings it over to her, letting her grab it from his hand. She is surprised he knows Jarritos is one of her favourite drinks. She must have mentioned it once when she was thinking over what drinks to stock at the diner while he was over. She thanks him with warm cheeks, hiding her eyes from him.

Over the weeks of listening to Rafe and Stella talk, Y/N couldn’t help but slowly fall for him. She didn’t miss the subtle ways he would ask about her to Stella. He would always find a way to involve Y/N in at least one question during each call. When he would call her for support, he would always apologize for interrupting whatever activity she normally had scheduled at the time and she was shocked he remembered her schedule.

Dinner is quickly finished and the table is set. The conversation flows smoothly. Y/N finds herself giggling at Rafe’s stupid dad jokes. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t even think they are funny. She loves how he can see Stella’s enjoyment and keeps going with the jokes. For most dinners, Y/N’s focus is on whether Stella is eating or not; however, today, she finds her eyes glancing between Rafe and her bowl of soup. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Stella, who is absolutely in love with the view. She can see her mother slowly falling for her father and thinks about how she can get her plan back on track.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator @justdamnpeachy

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rachalixie · 1 year

Text

dad jisung???

jisung as a dad is something you never could have prepared for.

he was more wonderful than anything you could have imagined during your pregnancy - always knowing exactly what you needed, giving you space when you were moody, letting himself take half of the weight as much as he could. he tampered down his own anxiety in favor of addressing yours and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. he even let you squeeze his hands so tight he got bruises during the delivery, and he pranced around telling everyone they were battle scars afterwards.

however, this just meant that once she was born, the anxiety that he had bottled up all came crawling back.

with each day, you relaxed more and more into being a parent, tasks coming naturally to you as if it was ingrained into your brain, while he began second guessing every movement he made.

even now, he’s tiptoeing into your bedroom with barely-there steps, round glasses perched on his nose, holding his breath as he sits behind you on the bed and looks over your shoulder to smile at the baby in your arms.

“hi there, little sprout,” he coos, tracing a gentle finger down her cheek and smiling wider when she opens her mouth and gurgles at his touch.

“she has a name, you know,” you tease, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the baby’s head. you miss the look on his face, but you see when he retracts his hand as if he’s been burnt and scoots back.

you frown as you look back at him to see his bottom lip worrying between his teeth, eyes unsure as they flicker between you, the baby, and the floor.

“hey, ji,” you say, keeping your voice as warm as you can, turning around as gently as you could to face him. “i was just teasing. you know i love your petnames, right?”

“i just,” he pauses, looking down and refusing to meet your eyes. “i don’t want to mess this up. i feel like i’m on the edge of doing something wrong all the time. it’s too important.”

and the silliest thing about this situation is, he’s so good at it. at being a husband, at being a father, at having a family. it comes naturally to him, and if you replaced the second-guessing with confidence he would be sailing through whatever test he’s put himself under.

he’s impossibly affectionate, always telling her from afar that she’s perfect and beautiful, bragging about her to everyone, taking videos of her giggling and making indescribable noises.

he always knows what she wants to eat. always knows just what her cries mean, whether she needs to be changed or she’s hungry or she wants attention, even though they all sound the same to you. knows exactly where to pat her back to make her burp, knows to put her in the right clothes that she won’t be fussy in, knows that in the winter she doesn’t like the heat turned up too high even though it’s cold outside because it makes her too warm. he knows. and yet, he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t.

“you know she’s half yours too, right? you don’t have to fight for her love. she already loves you, just like i do.” you say, not missing the way the tips of his ears tinge pink at your words. “i would say she loves you more than i do, but that’s impossible because i love you too much.”

“no such thing as too much, baby,” he murmurs against your lips as he presses a slow kiss there, leaning over the miracle you’ve created together in the process. when he pulls back, he presses a sure palm to the baby’s cheek, reveling in how she opens her big round doe eyes at him as if she was looking at the sun. if anyone asked you, you would say she was.

“take her for a second?” you ask, gathering her up and depositing her into his waiting arms. “i’m going to go get some water.”

you half expect him to say no, you sit and i’ll get it for you, like he usually does, but he doesn’t. he cradles her like she’s the most breakable thing instead, hands looking impossibly big around her, protective and more sure than they have been since the hospital.

the smile is still ghosting on your face as you slowly sip your water in the kitchen, letting him get as much time as he needs with her with no one watching his actions. even if it’s you.

the sight you’re greeted with when you creak the bedroom door open again is one you wish you could snapshot like a polaroid in your mind; he’s moved to the headboard, legs spread out in front of him and your baby cradled to his chest. he’s singing you are my sunshine to her, a look of pure adoration on his face, the same one you remember seeing when he first met you, when he proposed, at the altar, when he first laid eyes on her in the hospital. his voice is soft and floats around the room, bouncing around the walls and surrounding them in a cocoon of comfort.

“…please don’t take my sunshine away,” he croons, nuzzling his nose against the soft tuft of hair on top of her head. “no one’s ever going to take you away from me, okay? from me and your mom. never.” he swears, wrapping one pinkie around her entire tiny hand. her fingers curl around it, as close to a promise as she can make.

“at this rate, her first word is going to be dada,” you say, making yourself known and holding back your smile at the way he jumps a bit. “she’s definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.”

“is that right?” he says, looking down at her. “are you going to be my little flower?” she gurgles a bit, imitating a laugh, and the way he laughs along with her creates a melody more beautiful than any of the songs he’s ever written.

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #han jisung imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #jisung fluff #jisung x y/n #jisung x reader #soft #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader

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bonkhrnyjail · 5 months

Text

sweet plum | chapter one

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit later)

summary: you're almost late to work picking up coffee for your client.

a/n: hello hello! i've been posting this fic on ao3 for the past few months but had a request to post here as well, so here she is !!! this chapter is just a short and sweet intro to the story, future chapters are much longer. hope you enjoy :')

p.s. i wrote this WAYYYY before the starbucks boycott (like 9 months before) and will not be writing about starbucks in the future. free palestine. fuck starbucks.

Fuck.

You can hear the beat of your boot tapping the floor incessantly as you continue to check the lock screen of your phone, staring at the digits and jolting with every minute that passes.

You’ve never had to wait more than 5 minutes at this Starbucks, but of course the one day that your presence is absolutely essential on set, some freak decided to terrorize the staff by forcing them to remake his drink over and over, until he deemed it acceptable. You tried to intervene, but one of the baristas mouthed “It’s ok” to you over the maniac’s shoulder, so you let the situation run its course.

The curly-haired man working so diligently on your order finally calls out your name; you bolt upright and book it to the counter.

“Ok, we’ve got the grande Iced Blonde Honey Shaken Oat Milk Espresso,” he places the first drink into the carrier, “the, uh, grande Sweet Cream Cold Brew and… jesus I hope this one isn’t yours…” he lets out a chuckle, “the Venti Quad Espresso with two extra shots over ice.” He wiggles the drinks into the carrier and wedges a few straws in between the plastic cups.

“It’s not,” you manage through a chuckle, “My client needs his 'go-go juice'."

He throws his head back with laughter. Surely the joke wasn’t that funny, but you appreciate the flattery nonetheless.

“Here,” you hand the straws back to him. “Save the turtles.”

“Let me get you some napkins… oh shoot, we’re out. I’lll go grab some from the back.” He moves away from you quicker than you can stop him.

Fucking hell, you have to go now. You have 15 minutes until they actually start filming, and they need you for the inevitable touch-ups that the action of the scene will cause.

You can not fuck up this job. You’re nearly at the end of filming and you’ve been early, by some miracle, every time you were called to set. They took a chance on you, and you need to prove that they didn’t make a mistake.

“Here you go.” He emerges with a small bag in his hand. “I threw in a loaf to thank you for trying to help earlier.”

“Thank you so much, it was no problem at all,” you wedge the heavy drink carrier between your arm and your torso, “I really have to run, but I’m sure I’ll be back in the next few days, thanks again!” the words trailing behind you as you high-tail it to your car.

13 minutes.

You drive faster and more recklessly than you should, one hand on the wheel and the other stabilizing the drinks so they don’t skyrocket out of the passenger’s seat. As you finally pull into your designated stall, you see your client and his sidekick leaning on the car in the spot next to yours, motioning at invisible watches and tapping their feet. You’d think they’d be grateful that you just risked your job to get them their caffeine fix.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you shout as you grab the carrier and bag from your car and hoist yourself up from the seat. “There was this guy, he was being a total asshole, made them make his drink like five times. Here.” you hand each of them their drinks. “P, the fucking barista laughed out loud at your order. He said he was scared for your health.”

“Listen,” Pedro takes a comically massive gulp. “I’m not as spry as I used to be, you know. I need a little help on that front.”

You chuckle and rustle in the paper bag. “Are either of you hungry? This guy gave me a cake slice but I’m not hungry enough for the whole thing.”

“We’ll split it.” Bella reaches into the bag and grabs the napkins, dispersing them amongst the 3 of you.

“Ohhhh ho ho ho… what’s THIS!” Pedro shouts, setting his cup on the hood of the car, holding his napkin up with two hands and clears his throat. “It was really sweet what you tried to do today. I’d love to repay you and TAKE YOU OUT SOMETIME?” his voice rising in pitch and volume.

He shows it to Bella and they start cackling. “It even has a little heart on it!” Bella exclaims through their giggles.

“Let me see that!” you snatch it out of Bella’s hands. The two of them start oohing and making kissy noises, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"What'd you try to do?" Bella pries. You ignore them.

“Are you guys literally 10 years old? Jesus.” you try to hold back your embarrassment as you examine the note. It has a phone number written at the bottom, signed with “xo”.

“You’re gonna call him, right?” Bella tore off a piece of the cake and passed the remainder to Pedro.

“No—” you hiss, instantly regretting the speed and intensity at which you responded. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess he's handsome, but I don’t… know him… can we just drop it? We’re gonna be late.”

You want this attention off of you as soon as possible. You feel a hot flush prickle your cheeks and you turn your face away from the two of them, pretending to rustle through your bag and grab something.

“That's what a first date is for, dipshit! Man, you’re impossible.” Bella lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever,” they say, grabbing the napkin. “I’ll call him then, do it myself.”

You shake your head, chuckles still escaping your lips. “I think he might be a bit old for you, Bellie, but knock yourself out I guess.”

“That's not what I— You think I want a man? Please don’t insult me like that ever again.” Bella starts half-walking, half-skipping towards the elaborate set scattered with cast and crew. You follow their lead, Pedro trailing close behind.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. You do whatever makes you the most comfortable.” Pedro puts his arm around your shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. Your body shivers under the warmth of his touch and you manage a nod.

“Thanks.” you look up, finding him already gazing down at you, cocoa brown eyes twinkling and crinkled by a sweet smile.

“Anytime, sweet plum.”

. . . . .

chapter two

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sylveon-official · 3 months

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Huskerdust mpreg wip 3

Part 2 here!

Lucifer chews on the finger of his glove as he mumbles, looking back and forth between Angel perched on the bed and the ultrasound pictures in his hand. Charlie sits beside him in an unwavering show of support, but the nervous shake of her hand clasped in his isn’t really helping.

“Ohhh. Mmm, okay, I see. Oh boy… again?”

“Again?” Angel and Charlie cry out, shooting worried looks at one another.

“What the fuck do you mean again? This happen often? Isn’t not being able to get knocked up supposed to be, like, divine punishment around here?!”

Of course, Angel had always considered that logic a bit backwards, especially with his profession. He had no idea how demon biology really worked, but he’d seen enough visibly pregnant Hellborns of myriad genders in his time in Hell to be secretly grateful he’d never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

“Well, yes…” Lucifer scratches the side of his cheek, gaze nervously flitting from side to side. “But, you see, from time to time we have experienced… let’s call them… little miracles, here in the Pride Circle!”

Angel scoffs, about to reply with scathing comment about the contradiction when Charlie places a steady hand on his shoulder and gently cuts in, “When is the last time this happened, Dad?”

Lucifer blows out a breath, and tuts his tongue as he counts on his fingers. “Oh, maybe 1000 years ago? Give or take. Doesn’t happen so often, could probably count the amount of times it has on two hands, but —?”

Angel groans. Lucifer or not, this guy has a way of beating around the bush that Angel sure doesn’t appreciate.

“Come on, cut to the chase shortstack - Why?” Angel asks, exasperated.

Charlie reprimands him lightly with a gasp of his name while Lucifer zeroes in on him with a narrow glare.

“I’m going to chalk that one up to hormones, and let that one slide.”

When Angel simply shoots him a dull look, Lucifer quickly gathers up his broken ego and carries on, this time in a more serious tone, “Listen, I wish I had an answer for you kid, but… I’ve never really been able to figure it out myself.”

Angel quickly deflates, sudden heat building up behind his eyes again. Great. Not only is he the first pregnant Sinner Demon in a Millenia, but he doesn’t even get an explanation?

Apparently sensing his downturn in mood, Charlie squeezes Angel’s hand and pries further, “Dad, if this has happened more than once, there has to be something you know. Even a just a theory?”

Lucifer hesitates, fiddling with his cane. “Well… there is one I’ve considered, but… don’t put too much stock into it,” he explains defensively, and Angel looks back up at him, tentatively intrigued.

“So, you know how conception happens… up there, right?” Lucifer cups his hand around his mouth and whispers conspiratorially.

Angel furrows his brows. “No, how the fuck should I-”

“Oh, um!” Charlie cuts in, her own brow furrowed in thought. “Something about ‘built-in’ birth control, right? You and your partner will only conceive if it’s something you both long for. So romantic!” She swoons, pressing her cheek against Angel’s shoulder. She quickly rights herself to add to her father’s assessment, “So if that’s how it works with Redeemed Souls, then maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter whether you’re in Heaven or Hell, since now we know that’s a total crapshoot… maybe it has to do with the goodness inside of the soul itself!”

Angel’s eyes narrow as he parses the words in his head, refusing to acknowledge the latter half of Charlie’s rambling.

“So lemme get this straight… you’re tellin’ me, this is literally some ‘when two people love each other very much’ kinda bull shit?! Who the fuck would I—”

Angel’s voice gets stuck in his throat as a very clear image of of the potential culprit poofs into his mind's eye.

Luckily, Lucifer and Charlie take his short-circuiting as general shock. Charlie coos and pulls him close while Lucifer backtracks, “Like I said, it’s just a theory - I’ve got no proof to back it up. For all I know, this is the Big Whatever Upstairs’ way of fuckin’ with us—”

Angel stands up, ignoring the way Lucifer flinches as he towers over him and Charlie face-plants onto the bed without his support.

“I gotta go,” Angel says, balling his hands up into fists, nails digging into his palms uncomfortably.

He swipes the photos from off of his desk, throws open the door and briskly walks down the hallway, Charlie’s worried shouts falling on deaf ears.

He takes the stairs to the lobby two by two, picking up his pace so he doesn’t lose his nerve by the time he reaches his destination.

When he stalks up to the bar, heart pounding and out of breath, Husk simply glances up from the glass he’s polishing and plasters on a teasing, lopsided grin, just like he's done every time Angel has stormed up to his bar at any and all hours of the day and night.

Husk cocks his head and lifts a brow, the deep timbre vibrating across the walls, “Wanna talk about it, Legs?”

Angel’s heart thumps and his cheeks flood with heat.

“Fuck.”

#lmao using worldbuilding as an excuse to explain the mechanics of mpreg #sh #i already kNOW #huskerdust #husk x angel dust #angel dust x husk #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust #mpreg #writing

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tarotbyopal · 3 months

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Advice to help you manifest miracles

Hi lovey welcome to another PAC reading <3 thank you for being here an for supporting my work! I appreciate you all so much!

🫧Piles: 1-2-3

🫧Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Calm your breath and remove all of the thoughts from your mind. When you try to focus on the reading at hand which number or image comes to mind? That is your pile

Paid readings | Memberships

Pile 1 What you need to know

The sun

Pile 1 you need to know that although it may not seem like it at times you are heading in the right direction - slowly but surely. You will be able to bring this manifestation quicker to you if you stop stressing and instead focus on what is right in front of you. Try new things and enjoy some time in the sunshine this year, especially during spring. Go for a walk or take a book out and have a picnic by yourself. Fall back in love with life, this is something extremely important for you. To find joy in the little things. What makes you happy and what makes you grateful? Are you happy right now?

If you are currently procrastinating something - you are probably overcomplicating it. Pile 1 some of you may still be studying or you may be learning a new language. It’s ok to casually do this. The more you keep your head busy, the less likely you are to contradict your manifestation.

What you need to release

9 of cups

You may need to release what you think you want. It is likely that you are wanting to take big steps in your manifestation. This is ok to do if you don’t get stuck along the way (which I believe may be happening to you right now). For example you may have a new job as a manager assistant but instead of being happy you are sad because you are not the manager. Instead of viewing the situation in a negative light you need to see that you are closer than ever at being manager and that this will likely happen soon. Try to turn the negatives into positives right now. Success can come overnight, but it doesn’t have to. Going viral doesn’t mean anything if you are not prepared for it.

❥ Personal readings available via Ko-fi

Pile 2 What you need to know

The hierophant

It is time to question all beliefs and rules pile 2 and you are on the way to creating your own rules. It is important that whilst manifesting you do a thorough research on this topic, but this doesn't mean that you have to abide by everyone’s rules. There are no rules when it comes to manifestation - you create limitations for yourself. So be more aware of what limitations the teachers that you have chosen to follow have and how the limitations impact these people. Then try to decide on what it is that you want, what limitations are holding you back and how you can get around this. Pile 2 you guys are intelligent and studious - use this to your advantage now more than ever,

What you need to release

King of wands

Empowerment is not the same as domination. Be careful with your words and how you are making others feel now more than ever pile 2. Just because you are more aware of your power and limitation does not mean that you need to hang out with people who have the same belief, or that you need to change the beliefs of your friends. Focus on yourself and take inspired action when required. You may also need to be aware that you need to reel in your own expectations towards yourself and instead create little goals here and there. Have you ever tried to manifest a free cup of coffee? I have…it didn’t really work until a month later I found myself in a job where my boss buys me a cup of coffee everyday. Did I ever expect this? No! But here we are! Expect the unexpected pile 2 and be open to taking action.

❥ Personal readings available via Ko-fi

Pile 3 What you need to know

Ace of wands

Pile 3 you may either be new to manifestation or you are currently working on something new. What’s brewing? You are being asked to take a stance on your desire and your manifestation. It’s time to choose this. You need to do it. For some reason you may think that this is a bit risky - that you are closing off other options but if you truly wish for this thing to come to you, you need to choose it and be certain about it. When the time comes to make this choice though…it may be a bit dramatic?! It could be in front of people or something along those lines. But you ought to do it. There is a new beginning brewing for you so know that everything that you desire is not out of reach because if it wasn’t you wouldn’t be desiring it in the first place.

What you need to release

The magician in reverse Pile 3 the message is the same ahah you need to take a strong stance on things right now. Commit commit commit and stop making excuses. It is also a good time for you to reassert power over some parts of your life that may currently be out of control. Whether this is your work/life balance, your friendship, your relationship or your career. You are being asked to create stronger and healthier boundaries so that you can succeed. rekindle, realign, renew, replace, reflect. Once you do his everything will fall into place naturally. I promise.

❥ Personal readings available via Ko-fi

All the love xx

#pac readings #pacreading #pac reading #pac tarot #pac #pick a photo #pick a deck #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot card reading #tarot readings #tarot reading #tarot community #intuitive tarot reading #intuitive reading

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dariaslookalike · 4 months

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Needing Miller pt I

Summary: It's a shit hole of a world that you're living in, and it gets even shittier when you're ambushed in your sleep. It's a slippery slope that leads you from being tucked cozily in your sleeping bag to joining the raiding group lead by the most infuriating (and intimidating) man you've ever met. You need to survive, above all else- either in this group (without smacking its leader over the head), or in the world alone after somehow escaping. Easier said than done, when your mind loses all sense of focus, tactics and skills the second that Joel Miller rolls up his sleeves and shows his godforsaken forearms.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagnist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: I posted this on AO3 under the same username, feel free to give that a look. I'm excited to be posting this cause its been sitting in my drafts FOREVVEEERRR but i'm also not going to be updating it on a regular schedule- uni and life blah blah blah

Next Chapter: Pt 2

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

You know something is wrong before you wake up.

There’s a shift in the air. A warm, humid breeze puffs against your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight, trying to savour the little bit of rest you can find here. It was a miracle to find a mall like this; abandoned, free of infected, and a safe place to spend the night.

But your gut sinks and there’s a sudden sense of dread that settles on your shoulders now, even in your half-asleep state. You’re tucked into the corner of an abandoned clothing store. The racks were mostly picked clean, or otherwise moth-eaten, but you had found some coverage behind the counter. You had laid your sleeping bag down and could only imagine it before the outbreak; girls younger than you standing behind the register, tiredly scanning item after item as some middle-aged woman goes into a drabble about her day. But the corner was still quiet and safe; more than you had been awarded in your recent weeks.

So why was there a breeze?

Your hand inches down and grips at your knife, tucked into your jeans. It was uncomfortable and prodding to sleep with, but right now you were more than grateful you had kept it beside you.

You open your eyes and are met with a row of crooked, yellowed teeth and wide eyes. The man’s face is pressed up against the floor and he grins at you, his nostrils flaring when your eyes meet his. You can see every dirty pore of his face, every cold sore littered around his mouth.

You scramble back, trying to put some distance between the two of you so that you can rip your hand out of the sleeping bag and stab him through his grinning mouth. He laughs, and it sounds bubbly and excited. You glance around quickly and see another man, standing off to the side. Not as if he’s on the lookout, but as if he’s simply overseeing his friend; supervising his fun. His face is hollow as he looks at you. Uncaring. You feel nauseous.

The man is wiry and everything about him is thin. The angle of his shoulders, the concavity of his neck, the tight pull of skin around his face. He shifts himself into a squat, and his hands snake out, gripping you by the shoulders. He pulls you up, and his bony fingers dig painfully into your shoulders, his rotten mouth fanning across you.

His voice is croaky and uneven, but he leers closer to you. “I’m gonna have so much fun with ya. Love it when they get that scared look on their face.”

You blanch, and feel your breath get caught in your throat. But damned if you give into his weird, kinky reverse psychology. You struggle, kicking out to him, and it does little more than shuffle your sleeping bag further down. He chuckles at your feeble attempt but you don’t stop. His hands pin you to the wall, but you’re almost thankful for it- it lets the sleeping bag tug down unresisted while you remain upright. He just smiles and it makes his face crease in a way that reminds you of a worn, leathered shoe.

“Look atcha. Pretty face. Can’t wait to see what those pretty lips do.”

He squeezes against the clothed flesh of your breast. He groans, and pushes himself forward, rutting against your leg. His hand kneads against your breast harshly. Your arm is finally out enough that you can wrench it free of the sleeping bag material, and you manage to kick it completely to your feet. He doesn’t notice, instead entranced by his groping.

But he fucked up. Let your shoulder go to be a pervert. Stupid fucking raider.

And then your arm is raising and your fingers are clutching the knife so tightly and your arm is swinging down and your muscles tense with the amount of force and your hand angles the blade for his neck.

But his eyes dart over at the last second and he stops chuckling, instead swinging himself to the side. Your knife misses his neck, but you follow it through regardless, driving it home into his shoulder.

He cries out in a twisted combination of pain and fury, and his hand drops from your breast. You see his friend advance closer, hands reaching to his jeans, where a gun is shoved into the side. The man in front of you snarls, not even bothering to tell him to back off with words; but his friend gets the message, and drops his hand, stepping back. Deeming you not a threat.

You dig the hilt in deeper and kick out, boots connecting against his shin.

He whips back to you, and spittle flies out of his mouth as he huffs in pain. But his other hand still pins your shoulder, and in a second it readjusts to your throat, squeezing against the column of your neck. His eyes are somehow wider, and you can see the red veins surrounding them.

You’re forced to abandon the knife in his shoulder, and instead both your hands come up to claw at his hand. He laughs, and reaches up, twisting the knife out of his shoulder in a pained yell. You want to tell him he shouldn’t have done that. Stupid fucking raider. That he might bleed out now if you were lucky enough to nick an artery. But instead, you bare your teeth and your hands reach out, clawing at his eyes when it proves futile to attack his hand. His fingers squeeze tighter at your throat and you suck in your last breath.

He’s going to kill you, says a small voice in your head.

He angles his head back just far enough that your hands can’t dig into his flesh and the strain makes his neck look taut and ready to snap. You’re starting to get lightheaded. He laughs again, and you kick out; but this time it’s weak, frenzied and doesn’t land with the direction or force as before.

He’s going to kill you. Stupid fucking raider.

The bloodied knife is in his hand and he angles it up, digging the tip into the apple of your right cheek. The hand at your throat relaxes, and you realise it’s for the same reason his friend didn’t intervene. You weren’t a threat. You gulp down air and it brings back focus to you. You dig your fingernails into his forearm but he doesn’t even flinch as you draw blood, and gouge your nails in deeper. He just shows all his yellow, rotting teeth in a grin.

“Thought we could have some fun.” He moves his face closer, sneering. “But you’re a fucking bitch with this fucking knife.” He digs it in, and you feel blood dribble down your face. “Gonna make sure you’re just as fucking ugly outside as you are inside.”

He digs it in deeper but his eyes stay trained on you. You realise he’s waiting for you to start begging. To start pleading for yourself, for your skin, for your face. To convince him not to maul you and assault you and kill you.

You spit on him and it lands across his nose and cheeks. “Fuck you. I’ll still look better than you, you inbred piece of shit.”

He drags it down your face and you hate the satisfaction in his eyes when you cry out. You feel it slice through tissue and he drags it from your right cheekbone down the length of your face, and it’s such a searing, precise pain that throbs throughout your whole face; he could have been stabbing you in the eye at the same time, and you wouldn’t have been able to differentiate. You can feel the tip of the blade scrap against your teeth and gums and blood fills your mouth and your lips part, letting blood flow out instead of choking on it.

But then a shot rings out. And the hand at your throat falls and the knife is wrenched out of your face.

You can feel your own blood gushing down your cheek but there’s something warm and wet splashed across the entirety of your face. You crumple to the ground, and your hands press themselves against your cheek, trying to halt the bleeding. You can’t even think, don’t even know why you’re trying to stop the blood flow when there’s no way you’re making it out of here alive. He was going to have his way with you and he was going to kill you and his friend was going to-

Your eyes flick across the floor, and travel up his pair of jeans, to his bloodstained shirt, to his face that’s half missing. It’s a bullet hole in the same manner as an asteroid being played in a darts game. There is no precision or clear entry or minuscule crater. His face is torn apart in a mess of red and flesh and wet and his one eye stays on you, unseeing. Your spit is still flecked across his cheek.

You lean over and vomit, and it’s a horrible mixture of bile from your empty stomach and red from your cheek. It stings against your wound, an acidic pang.

Someone’s talking and you’re reminded of the man standing to the side. But it’s two voices. Your ears are buzzing.

“What did I fucking tell you about the girls? What the fuck did I say?” Commanding. Brutal.

“I-I’m sorry Joel.”

A thud. “I asked you a fucking question. What did I say?”

“T-to not touch 'em. To not think about it.”

“‘should blow your fucking head off. Look at your friend-” You can see in your peripheral that the man’s head is clenched in the newcomer's hand, and twisted in your direction. There’s enough force that he could have had his neck snapped, but he simply stumbles and looks over towards you.

“You think for a second of doing the same as him, and I’ll wrench your skull off with my bare hands. Now get the fuck out of here. Don’t come back.”

And then there’s silence.

The man still stares up at you. His head has become a puddle on the floor. He’s missing half of his face, and you think the other half is splattered on you.

You stare at him.

Can’t stop.

Stupid fucking raider.

He was going to kill you.

His chest doesn’t rise and fall. He’s not gasping for breath. Your cheek is a searing, blinding pain, and you wonder if he felt anything while it happened.

The red of his face drips onto the tiled floor. It spreads out, and soaks into the corner of your sleeping bag that’s crumpled to the floor. You can see his brain but you can’t rationalise it with the diagrams you had seen of a pink, fleshy oval. It’s red and dripping and chunks of it are hanging out and it looks more like a splattered, bruised tomato than some scientific drawing.

You should be standing up. Running. Sprinting until your legs give out. Wiping his blood off your face. Stopping your bleeding. That’s what the voice in your head tells you. You’re vaguely aware that the man- Joel, says the small voice, is still in the room with you. That he might be worse than the man now soaking into the floor.

But you stare at him. Can’t stop. He was going to kill you.

It’s like the world dulls when the other man crouches in front of you. Your ears don’t hear anything. Your eyes only see the red veins of the man in front of you, blooming out as he drains onto the ground. You feel lightheaded and the throb of your cheek and sting of your bruised neck fade into the background.

And then a hand touches your chin, which is wet with…you’re not sure. Your blood. His. Tears.

He- Joel, the voice in your head hisses- tilts your face to him and your eyes are wrenched away from the man on the floor, and instead, you meet brown ones. Crows feet creep out at the corners. There’s a notch in between his eyebrows as they furrow. His nose is strong and carved and his jaw is square. He says something and you don’t hear it, instead eyes dropping to the movement of his lips.

And then the world rushes back in.

Your ears are filled with the noise of your heavy, ragged breathing, you feel the bright, stinging pain in your face, and you can smell the iron spreading from you and on the floor. And you don’t know how but your knife is back in your hand. It’s still red. You don’t care. Instead, your pulse is thrumming in your neck and you feel it drip down your face. And your muscles are all screaming at you in support and that voice in your head is a rapid chant of yes yes yes yes. And there’s adrenaline filling your chest, and you growl, eyes twisting and you lash out like a rabid animal, your teeth gnashing and your knife swinging down in a high arc and this time you’ll make it count, you’ll make it land, you’ll fight and you’ll scream and you’ll kill and you’ll-

Your knife doesn’t even make it halfway through the air before a hand grabs your wrist, stopping all motion with that one action; like screeching a train to a halt.

You growl, and it comes out guttural in your heavy breath. You bare your teeth and taste your blood. You angle the knife down, tilting it so that the bloodied edge digs into the large hand grabbing your wrist. You see blood start to drip down his wrist and you force more pressure into the hilt of the knife. Slice it through tissue and tendon and bone. Create that searing, precise pain.

You carve a nice wound into the hand, but then with only a flex of tendons, Joel squeezes your wrist so tightly that your bones groan against each other. Your hand involuntarily flexes and the knife clatters to the ground beside you.

Your free hand snakes up, aiming to gouge out his eyes. He huffs, and again, easily grips your wrist in his hand.

You bite back your cry this time, and snarl. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

It comes out garbled, and blood drips from the inside and outside of your cheek, but he understands. He scoffs. It’s not perverted or desperate in the way the man’s was; it’s genuine disbelief. His voice rumbles out from him, deep and unyielding. “And how are you gonna do that?”

Stupid fucking raider.

You use his grip against him, his resistance to let go of your wrists. You force yourself forward, and his tight hold on you means that he falls back, and lands against his back with a dull oof. You raise your elbow as high as it can and slam it back down into his sternum. You slam your knee down, and it connects with his crotch; you hear him groan beneath you painfully. You go to kick out at him, knee him in the crotch again until his grandkids are screaming for you to stop, but his thighs cage you, and tighten around both your legs. You stretch your fingers out like claws and rack them down his neck, drawing lines that bloom in red. He adjusts his grip, and his hands easily envelop yours completely.

You stare down at him huffing, and struggle in his grip, like a mouse caught in a snake’s hold. You jab anything you can into him, your elbow back in further, your hip into his thigh. You land blow after blow and you’re sure they’ll bruise by the way he hisses and groans. But he’s stronger than you and his hold tightens around you, squeezing in until you can’t move at all, instead pinned against him. Now that he knows you’re resistant, he doesn’t let you move an inch.

His broad, thick legs squeeze against your own so that you’re lying atop him, while he holds your hands painfully between the two of you. His hand is pouring out blood from where your knife sliced, and it seeps over your hands, sticky and wet and reeking of iron.

Joel scoffs again, and you think it’s the most annoying sound you’ve ever heard.

“Real impressive- first time I’ve seen an elbow jab be used as a killing blow.”

His drawl is Southern; smooth and honeyed, which almost sweetens his mocking words. You’re going to tear his throat out with your teeth.

He looks up at you, and his eyes almost soften. But then his face morphs into something tense, something rigid and he shakes his head. “‘M not gonna kill ya. Or hurt ya.”

You laugh, and your hair falls with the movement, spilling to frame your face and hang over the man beneath you. Your blood drips from you onto his cheek. He doesn’t move to wipe it away.

“Exactly what your filthy fucking raider friend said. We’d have some ‘fun’.” You lean down, eyes wide, and you chuckle, trying to not let the pure fear seep through. His grip is so strong on your hands that you know he could splinter your bones right now if he wanted to; he stops you from leaning closer to his neck as you planned, and you gnash your teeth. “I’ll bite your fucking dick off if you put it near me.”

You expect him to scoff. Maybe slam you into the floor, push your face into the puddle of the last man who hurt you. Break your hands.

Instead, he lets go of you. Loosens his legs against yours.

You stare down at him for a moment, shocked. But then you scramble back, so quickly you almost slip, until your back is against the wall. You reach out, gripping the hilt of the knife you lost in the palm of your hand.

You sit back on your haunches and breathe heavily, eyes trained on the man in front of you. His eyes don’t leave yours but he sits up. Draws his legs in closer. Pushes to his feet, and crouches, mirroring you.

You both stare at each other, and you can feel his attention on the knife in your hands, the tension in your shoulders. You take in the reddish lines down his neck, scratched down the surface. Your blood on his cheek. His blood dripping off his fingers. You force yourself to swallow. You tried stabbing him once and he easily stopped you; it won’t take much now that he’s expecting it too. You force yourself to still your breathing. Force yourself to place the knife beside you, on the floor.

He nods at the action and raises his hands, palms facing towards you. An act of surrender too.

“‘M Joel.” He says, and it’s so simple that it leaves you blinking for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue. But you realise he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself, and you do so. He whispers your name under his breath, as if verbally committing it to memory.

“I meant it- ‘M not gonna hurt you.” He tilts his head and spits against the dead man on the floor. “That fucker’s always been a problem.”

A problem. His words from earlier rush in; reminding the other man that he had warned them about girls. You run your tongue along your teeth. It tastes coppery. “You’ll let me leave?”

He nods again, slowly, as if you were a cornered animal. You suppose you were. “‘f ya want.”

You nod slightly, and the movement makes you aware of the wet drip from your cheek, and the dried splatter across your face.

He sighs. You knew there was going to be a ‘but’. Stupid fucking raiders.

“You’re gonna run into bad things out here,” His tone is matter-of-fact. “Fuck knows where you’re going, but others won’t be as kind as I am.”

You gesture your head to the body between you two. “As kind as him?”

“Worse.”

“So what? You’re telling me to get off your turf, turn around and don’t look back?”

He shakes his head again and huffs out a breath as if all this talking is tiring him. “No. I’m telling you to join us.”

You blink. Your cheek still drips and the pain at your neck still stings. You scoff, and your hand itches for the knife at your side. “So I can be your group’s whore? I said I’d bite anything you put near me.”

“We don’t do that to women. Or girls.” His eyes dip down to you at that, taking you in, assessing you. You wondered if you looked like some dirty street urchin. “But I’m one man down, and you clearly have some fight in you.”

You clench your jaw, ignoring the sting of your cheek. “I don’t trust you.”

He stares at you and tilts his head to the man beside you, his tone sharp and biting. “You think he trusted me? ’M not going to be your fucking friend.”

He pushes to his feet so suddenly and quickly that you flinch back, hands gripping the hilt of the knife beside you instantly. His eyes track the movement, and his lips tug up the smallest amount as if you proved his point. That you would still fight.

He huffs and rolls his eyes as if it’s the most obvious choice in the world. “Leave. Stay. I don’t give a shit, but it’s going to be the best deal you get out here. ‘Specially before you bleed out.”

He points at his own face, mirroring the wound on your cheek. And then he turns and steps over the dead man, and walks away. You watch his form; the broad expanse of his back. The muscled tone of his thighs beneath his jeans. His full height now that he was standing.

You could run the other way. Forget about his warning and keep heading east, not that you had a place in mind. Maybe he was bluffing- maybe there was no one else here, and he was banking on you not questioning it…Except you had seen the evidence of raiders as you advanced here. You weren’t stupid enough to not recognise tracks kicked into the dirt, or the rubbish left behind or the corpses that weren’t decayed by years, but were newly rotting.

You could listen to him, and just turn around; pray you didn’t run into any groups you had somehow avoided and go back to fucking FEDRA and everything you tried to leave behind. Or…stay. Stay with the stupid fucking raiders who split your face open but have someone to look out for you; someone to take watch while you slept, instead of just crossing your fingers and hoping that would be enough- because it clearly wasn’t.

Fuck.

You curse yourself. Reach out, and wind up your bloodied sleeping bag as quickly as possible, shoving it into your bag. Sling your pack across your shoulder, and stand up. You shove your knife into your jeans.

You look down at the dead man. There is an unholy halo of blood, blooming around what’s left of his head, that edges onto the toe of your boot.

You walk past and kick him.

It’s not hard to find Joel. He’s leisurely walking down the hall outside; as if he knew you were going to chase after him. He doesn’t turn when you come up beside him, but he talks, his low voice grumbling out between the two of you.

“I’ll get someone to have a look at that. As…an apology for what happened back there.”

Your cheek thrums in pain, and you nod. Can’t exactly expect a bouquet of roses for nearly getting assaulted by one of his henchmen. Some good stitches and antiseptic would be the next best thing. You reach up, and press the cuff of your flannel into your cheek, reminded that you should be putting pressure on it. You try not to swallow the blood in your mouth too much. You wonder how bad it’ll scar.

“Thanks. I guess.”

He nods, and you walk like that through the mall for a bit. He’s leading you back to the entrance you realise, and you have to quicken your pace to keep up with his long strides. You look up at him. “So..are we going to talk about schematics?”

He glances down at you, eyebrow furrowed, and scowling. “You’re not getting a fucking badge for joining.”

“No.” You scoff. “I mean you said we had a deal. What are the strings attached?”

“Strings? This isn’t a business deal. You join. You do what I say. You’ll get fed, protected, the works.” His eyes are stony as he looks at you. Not glaring at you but glaring nonetheless. “Better than what FEDRA can fucking offer.”

There’s a beat between the two of you where he awaits an answer to a question he never asked. Finally, you nod.

“Okay.”

He nods and faces away from you again. Joel’s peace is short-lived when you tsk, speaking up once more.

“What about the rest of the group?”

Another unspoken question, but he reads it loud and clear in the tense of your shoulders, the blood still dripping down your face, the pain as you speak each word and try not to catch your ruined flesh in your teeth. Would you be safe? His Adam apple bobs and he slows, coming to a full stop. He faces you fully, and you clutch the strap of your bag, barely breathing. The glint of a gun is at his waist. You didn’t see it earlier in all the commotion, but now it draws your attention. The same gun that shot your attacker; his man.

You’re reminded that he could kill you easily now. Gun or not. He didn’t sound like he was exaggerating when he threatened to rip off that other man’s head.

“If I say no one’s touching you, no one’s fucking touching you. That’s it. Now shut up.”

He turns and walks more briskly now, and you have to actually jog a bit to catch up after standing there dumbfounded. Rude. Arrogant. But…he was going to keep you safe. Had shot someone- no, not someone, but shot one of his fellow raiders to keep you safe when you didn’t even know him.

He was the only thing standing between you and the rest of the people in his group; the only thing standing between you and the other raiders you had narrowly avoided, combing over the area; and more importantly, the only person standing between your gaping wound getting infected and septically killing you.

You were fucked.

You swallow and remain silent at his side, passing through half-empty shops to get to the mall’s entry. The hallway broadens up into a large foyer, where a water fountain sits, desolate. An abandoned food court surrounds it, tables and chairs cleared out to one side. There’s a group standing at the fountain and you falter. Maybe you should just leave. Run while you still can. Face what’s out there.

But Joel turns beside you and casts a knowing, disapproving look at you as if he could tell exactly what you were thinking. You clench your jaw, ignoring him, and continue forward.

The group talked excitedly, loudly, as if it didn’t matter who heard them. Some of them sit on the lip of the fountain while others stand and talk. The chatter dies down when Joel walks up, and all eyes turn to him.

But their attention is torn, and you feel eyes rake over you; taking in your ruined cheek that’s bleeding down your neck and onto your shirt. Your small statue. The rigid tense of your shoulders. The stained knife in your waistband.

Joel notices and rolls his shoulders, the same way a lion stretches its paws out; a show of power and restraint. “Terry’s gone.”

All the eyes drag back over to him, and you see a man in the back visibly pale. The same man from earlier. Standing guard. Your stomach curdles, and you inch closer to Joel, trying to hide slightly behind his broad form.

Joel tenses when he feels you brush against his arm but he's not obvious in reacting when he sees the same man. You think that, if you weren’t a centimetre from him, you wouldn’t see the rigid still of his shoulders or the flick of his gaze over the faces, that lands and stays on the man. You can hear his words and wonder if he’s rethinking them too. Don’t come back.

He tilts his head down to you and you hate the swivel of eyes, how everyone is now permitted to look at you. The man’s face at the back hardens.

You wonder if he’s staring at the splatter of his friend across your face. Or the ragged gouge in your cheek- he was now the only one here who had seen your face unmarred. You hate that thought.

“She’s with us now. Anyone thinks of following Terry’s footsteps-”

Joel’s hand moves so fast you don’t register it reaching down to his waistband and coming back up until his gun is firing again. The man at the back drops in a spray of red and you shudder out a breath, eyes wide. The noise leaves your ears in shock and everyone takes a step back, some swearing and other’s hands going over their heads.

“And you won’t live to regret it.”

You swallow, and your stomach folds in on itself. Jesus. And Joel said he was kind. What the fuck had you agreed to? Who had you agreed to?

The other men nod, and you realise it’s subordinate. A curt response to their boss. Joel. The leader of this group of raiders. Joel, who had just killed two of his men- one for hurting you, another for disobeying him. Some of their eyes flick back to the now-dead man, whose head is pooling out on the floor.

Joel scoffs. “Deal with that.”

He gestures at two of the men. They spring into action, not questioning him for a second. Joel turns his attention to another man, standing closer to both of you.

“Ryan. Patch her up.”

The man, Ryan, nods. Joel steps away from you, and you almost step with him, not wanting to be left here. But you still yourself. Force your legs to remain planted. Don’t let these strangers think that you need someone to protect you. He walks away, back into the mall as if he wasn’t finished with whatever had dragged him there in the first place.

Ryan walks closer to you. He’s wearing faded jeans and a military-style jacket; all pockets and thick material. He offers you a thin-lipped smile; an acknowledgement and nothing else. You don’t return it.

He gestures his head towards the fountain. “Sit. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You give him a short, curt nod, but don’t turn your back to him or anyone. Everyone watches you warily. But when you sit, and Ryan shoots a look over his shoulder at them all, that has a flash of Joel’s authority, the conversation gradually returns.

It doesn’t even get interrupted when the body is dragged away. You don’t look. You brace yourself against the edge, hands gripping the tiles. You look up at the man in front of you.

“You ‘re a doctor?”

His lips tug, and he reaches over, grabbing a backpack set near the fountain. “Something like that,” he mutters, riffling through the bag. “I was before the outbreak. Haven’t been one for a long time.”

You nod. He looks to be in his thirties. He must have been just out of med school when the outbreak hit; fresh, probably still doe-eyed and hoping to make a difference in the world of patients.

“Doctor to raider. Crazy pipeline.”

He sighs and looks down at you. You see gauze and a sewing kit in his hand. “Yeah. Did Terry do this to you? Did he…do anything else I need to look at?”

You swallow. Shake your head. “No. Didn’t get that far before Joel found me. He just,” You tilt your neck to the side, exposing the now purple marks on your skin. You wonder how much blood is stained against them. “Choked me too.”

“Told him he was gonna find out if he fucked around.” Ryan huffs angrily, muttering to himself. “I can’t do much for your neck.”

He places his materials down and instead grabs a rag from within the bag. It looks clean enough, at least. He dampens it with his water bottle and then passes it over to you. You wipe it across one side of your face but don’t bother touching the still-flowing wound. You swipe it down your neck, and finally across your hands; you think most of it is your blood, dried against your skin, but your eye catches the toe of your boot. Where you had stepped in Terry, or what Joel left of him.

Ryan takes back the rag and draws his eyes back to yours. His hand reaches up, pressing against the skin of your neck. You flinch back before forcing yourself to relax; he was an examining doctor, not an opportunistic pervert. Hopefully.

“He didn’t do much damage here. It’ll feel worse but then the bruises will fade. As for your cheek…” He tilts his head and bends at the waist, inspecting the torn flesh better. “I’m gonna have to stitch you up. It’s starting to clot which is good but it’s straight through.”

“Yeah. I can taste it.”

Ryan’s lips don’t curl at your statement, instead, he nods in understanding. He rifles in the bag again and produces a large bottle. When he opens it, it smells like the tea tree oil that your mother used to keep in the bathroom cabinet.

“Nature’s antiseptic- it’ll work fantastic at cleaning and keeping out infection, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch and I don’t have anything to give you.”

Did you just look so pathetic and bruised up that he was taking pity on you?

“Can’t be worse than being stabbed in the face, right?”

He shrugs and it does nothing to fill you with confidence. He opens the bottle and pours out some onto his hands and the needle in his grip, sterilising them in a mock imitation of surgery conditions. You force yourself to turn from him, expose your wounded cheek to him.

You don’t know how you sit still. The first stitch is piercing and stinging and brings the throbbing attention back to your cheek. You can’t look at him, so you focus somewhere in front of you; count the cracks in the tiles and the amount of squares. By halfway, you’re not resisting the tears streaming down your face, or wiping the blood that’s dripping down to your chin again. You feel like you’re going to throw up again and acid rises at the back of your throat.

When he finally pulls back and cuts the thread, your hands are shaking. Then he slathers antiseptic across the stitches, taping gauze across them and you think you might pass out.

You must look like you’re about to because Ryan’s bloodied hands reach out to steady you. You blink, hazily and couldn’t smile at him now even if you wanted to.

“Thanks.” You say, but it’s muffled from how little you move your lips. Everything in your face is pulsating. He nods and gives you a worried look.

“You should lie down. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain, and if you can sleep through it, you should.”

You cast a glance around you. In the whole process, you hadn’t realised that the sun had settled and night had fallen in the skylights high above. You can count them now; there are five other men here, all ranging in age, some close to yours, and some older than Ryan. They’re split off in separate groups close to the fountain. Three of them sleep to one side, while the others sit around an open fire. It’s jarring, to see a bonfire in the centre of a shopping mall, even though the world has ended. But there’s no Joel.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just sit here.”

Ryan’s eyes crinkle as if he knows what you’re thinking. “I won’t let anyone get near you if that’s what you’re worried about. You can trust me to stitch up your face, you can trust me to do that, right?”

“Why?”

You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowed. You don’t bother asking much else. He knows what you’re asking. You’re a raider. I’m a girl you don’t know. Why are you being kind?

He nods, and his lips tug down. “I was a doctor. Swore to protect and to heal. And, I know Terry isn’t a good representation of it but… this is a good group.”

“Good?” You ask, cheek throbbing. “Does my face look good right now?”

Ugly. Inside. And Out. You shake away the words, and stare at Ryan’s face, ignoring the tears swelling in your eyes again. He chews his cheek and looks at you earnestly.

“Terry was bad. Everyone here,” He gestures with his hand towards the rest of the group. “Knows to not fuck around with Joel’s rules. He said not to go after girls. He said you’re with us. So I’ll watch over you, but you’re safe either way.”

You nod slightly, sighing. You glance back to Ryan, voice quiet. “Does he…do that a lot? Shoot people to prove a point?”

The man doesn’t flinch at your question and just shrugs. “He’s brutal. It’s what’s made us survive for this long. If he says something he means it; following through just shows everyone that he means business. Don’t get it in your head that just because he dealt with Terry, or brought you into the group, means that he’s kind, or that he cares about you. You’ll be doing your part, just like the rest of us. ”

You nod but still have to bite back the sting of his words. His eyes meet yours as if he was still examining you. Your part. What part did you have in a raiding group?

His expression softens.

“I’ll keep watch over you.”

He stitched up your face, so you feel inclined to believe he wouldn’t let his handiwork go to waste by letting you get shivved in your sleep. And you’re not going to sit around and wait for Joel, especially now that he wasn’t simply your gun-slinging saviour; he was the leader, the killer, the brutal man in charge. You wonder if you should regret joining him; regret the feeling of debt for his two dead men.

But you just nod and slide off the water fountain until you sit on the ground, where you can roll out your sleeping bag.

Ryan stays true to his word, and remains by the fountain as you slip into your sleeping bag, and turn on your side so that your bandaged cheek doesn’t touch the fabric. You try not to think about how Terry’s blood is dried on one corner. You settle with your back to the fountain, not wanting to expose yourself to the rest of the group just yet.

The pain is throbbing. Your wrists and hands and whole body hurt from when you grappled with Joel earlier. You feel exhausted from the rush of adrenaline, the loss of blood, the horrors of the day.

You slip into an uneasy, pained sleep.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfic #raider!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #dariaslookalike fic #raider!joel x reader

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sourw0lfs · 4 months

Text

dance with the devil - part nine

Words: 571 | Rating: E (mostly parts 1 & 2, but also future parts) | CW: no warnings this time! except Steve's continued bad time

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

Turning twenty-one is supposed to be big and fun and momentous. Or at least that’s what everyone’s always told Steve, but he thinks it’s off to a rather crummy start actually. Surely that means it can only go up from here, right?

Except that part where it absolutely doesn’t do that. If anything, Steve finds his luck getting worse and worse. From missing his bus to losing his wallet to dropping his phone, it feels like one little thing after another little thing, and quite frankly he’s sick of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d blame Eddie.

But the thing is, Steve’s always kind of had awful luck, so if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his own. It doesn’t make him feel better about Eddie just always being there, though.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t just fuck off for like an hour?” Steve asks exasperatedly and for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Trust me,” Eddie deadpans in return, looking just as annoyed as Steve feels which only serves to make him bristle more, “if I could leave for any length of time, I would. But I get dragged back here any time I try.”

If Steve were less annoyed, he might feel sorry for Eddie. Something about a lack of freewill makes him sad, angry, upset? He’s not sure. But Eddie’s annoying, so Steve can’t bring himself to feel bad for anyone but himself. He’s never done well with being annoyed.

“What if you talk to whoever the hell is in charge of you or whatever?” Steve suggests, not for the first time in the week they’ve known each other. “Surely they can give you some kind of away time.”

Sighing like the weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders, Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t get to her if I can’t leave. And I can’t take you with me, so we’re just gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

It’s the same response Steve always gets, but that doesn’t make it any less grating. Steve wants to be alone. Preferably for a long time while he processes the disaster that was the morning after his birthday. Shoving it down, pretending nothing happened because he doesn’t want Eddie (or anyone else) to see how much it’s upset him, can’t work forever.

This time, though, a thought strikes Steve and he frowns in thought. “What if you tried your weird magic shit?” he asks. “You cleaned up a murder scene with it. Surely you can use it to allow me to be alone for a while?”

Mentioning the murder scene to someone other than himself leaves Steve grimacing, but it’s the reality of things. It also brings him that much closer to a breakdown, but he keeps it held back. He always does when the memory tickles at the edges of his brain, which is alarmingly often the longer he dwells on it.

Eddie frowns in thought, expression matching Steve’s as he considers the suggestion. “I don’t think it would hurt to try,” he allows after a few moments. “Not optimistic, but we don’t seem to need many angelic miracles right now so…”

Which Steve disagrees with, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead he just watches Eddie, watches as the blinding light fills the room just like it had all the times before, and when it clears Eddie is gone.

Steve is alone.

As always, tags below the cut. Let me know if you want added!

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddiee @penny00dreadfull @momotonescreamingg @stevesbipanicic @dawners @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas

#fox writes things #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot

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frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years

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Recipe for Family (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Recipe for Family (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: None, except tooth-rotting fluff (I was in a mood guys)

Summary: Set Post-ST4. The year is 1990. Everyone has moved on since the events of Vol. 2 and living their lives, Steve more than others. He finally has everything he's ever wanted. Now it's Thanksgiving in Hawkins and he begins to realize more and more about what he's grateful for...and a lot of it has to do with you and the micro-clones you call your family.

“Are we sure that’s everything?”

“Potatoes, cranberry sauce, turkey’s in the oven…I think that’s everything, babe.” Steve’s eyes raked over the rows of platters which were currently littered across the kitchen island. This was one of the first times he could really remember seeing his parents’ kitchen full of this much life and chaos.

Actually, that was a lie.

The first time the Harrington family kitchen at this level of chaos was in the early days of your relationship, when you had first started dating. Steve had mentioned how much he had disliked the holiday season. What point was there to celebrating the holidays if you didn’t have people to share it with? This had evidently been a mistake to tell you, as on the morning of that Thanksgiving, you and Dustin were perched on his doorstep with an abundance of shopping bags and baked goods.

The three of you had spent most of the day together in the kitchen, crafting a holiday meal fit for the whole party. Well, if Steve was being honest, it was more so a duo rather than a trio effort. Dustin had thought it would be helpful to “monitor” your progress by shouting random encouragement from his spot at the island, a bag of chips at his side. Steve couldn’t complain though. It had been one of the best Thanksgivings of his life. He tried so hard to memorize every detail of the day, from the way you shared your grandmother’s secret sweet potato recipe to how many times a stray lock of hair would fall into your eyes.

Now here he was, five years later in the same situation. Except things were a little different now. Thanksgiving was still meant to be shared with his friends, but now everyone had all grown up. The kids he used to babysit were college students now, having just come home to Hawkins for the first time since August. He and Dustin still spoke every chance they had, the young genius being the reason Steve’s phone bill is so damn expensive nowadays. The kid just had to be smart enough to get into Columbia.

Another big change was that Steve now owned his parents’ home. After some protest, they moved out after giving their son the keys and lived in a retirement community just outside of Hawkins. They still don’t talk to him, but that’s okay. He finally came to terms with something truly important: they may have been family by blood, but they weren’t the family that mattered. No, because that was you. . .

. . .and your two daughters: Amelia and Emery.

One year after the chaos of Vecna and the great Hawkins earthquake of ‘86, during your two year anniversary, Steve had finally mustered up the courage to ask you the big question. Proposing seemed a lot easier when he first bought the ring. He planned the whole night: a movie, dinner by candlelight, he even wrote an entire speech. Yet in the heat of the moment, all words simply left him except for those four crucial ones.

He still can’t believe you said yes, not to mention that you gave him two little miracles at once. The twins were three years old now and looking more and more like you every day. However, you still swear that Em has the start of his famous hair and striking hazel eyes. There was nothing Steve loved more than coming home after every long shift to his girls. Every day, without fail, they put the biggest smile on his face as they clung to his leg and held on for dear life as he made exaggerated steps toward you to share a gentle kiss of hello.

“I still feel like we’re missing something,” you mused to yourself as you absentmindedly wiped flour off on your apron. You had been cooking for almost three days straight to make sure that there would be enough food for the stampede of guests arriving in the next few hours. “Did we get the rolls from that bakery Max likes? And the special butter for Will? I know certain dairy bothers his stomach.”

“Babe, relax.” Steve pressed a kiss to your flour-covered cheek. “We have everything. Don’t forget, Robin and Nance are bringing over the green-bean casserole. Jonathan and Will were in charge of the stuffing and Eddie’s bringing over the mulled cider with Argyle.”

“I better not see any weird pineapple covered sides or joints being passed around,” you said with a sigh. Steve watched as your nose scrunched up into that little wrinkle he loved so much. He wished he could lean forward and kiss it off your face entirely, but there were much more important matters at hand. You would certainly kick his ass if he fell behind schedule due to stealing some private time.

Instead, Steve turned his attention to his current challenge: baking the perfect pumpkin pie. “Don’t worry, beautiful,” he tried to soothe as he prepped the pie tin. “Everything is going to be okay. Just head upstairs and get ready. I’ll finish up what’s left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, now go before I pick you up and drop you in that bedroom myself.”

You smirked. “Is that a threat, Mr. Harrington?”

“No,” he replied. “It’s a promise. Although I can’t promise I’ll be too willing to leave if I have to take you up there myself.” He picked up a nearby dish towel and playfully snapped it in your direction. “Now hurry up. Our guests of honor will be here soon.”

You shook your head with a ghost of a smile, making sure to press a kiss to his lips before you sauntered over to the stairs. Steve rolled his eyes and felt the corner of his own lips pull up into a smirk as you purposefully swayed your hips when taking the first stair.

As he rolled out the final pie crust on the calendar, Steve felt a squeeze around his right leg. Looking down, he caught sight of messy sun-kissed chocolate ringlets and big hazel eyes that shone as bright as stars. “Daddyyyyyy,” came the high-pitched and dramatic cry from his daughter. “When can you pway?”

Steve chuckled. “Soon baby, okay?” He reassured her with a warm smile. “Daddy has to finish making these pies. Why don’t you go and make a card for Uncle Dustin with Amy?” He gestured to the living room, where her lighter-haired sister was happily scribbling atop the paper on the coffee table, eyes glued to the television before her.

His mini-doppelganger gave a huff of indignation far too mature for any five-year-old girl. “But ‘wan play wiff you!”

“Soon, Em. I promise. Daddy just needs to finish the pies.”

Emery tilted her head and Steve had to fight the urge to push back a loose strand of her hair back with flour covered fingers. She appeared to be contemplating something, raising a tiny index finger to her lower lip in thought. The action reminded Steve of you and how you’d nervously play with or bite your lips when deep in thought. “Can I helps?”

A warmth blossomed in Steve’s heart and flooded his entire body. He felt the smile which toyed on his lips threaten to split his face in half. His daughter was asking to help him with something; he could teach her something. “Of course, sweetheart,” he mused. “Now let’s wash those hands before we put the crust in the tin, okay?”

One singing of “happy birthday” and cloud of flour later, Steve held Em’s tiny hands in his own as they pressed the pie dough into the tin together. She was standing on the step-stool the two of you decided to buy early on. It was a preparation purchase for when the girls were a bit older and you wanted to encourage them to do things themselves. The fact that his three-year-old– his very own daughter– was standing in front of him using the steps shocked Steve to the core. This little person was someone he helped to create. She was growing up a little more every single day and it amazed him that this could happen with someone so tiny.

He watched as she stuck her tongue out in concentration when stabbing the dough bottom with a fork. It was only meant to get the air pockets out of the crust, but to young Emery, it was a life or death mission. After they pre-baked the crust, Steve let Em mix up the bowl of pumpkin filling…and maybe be the unofficial taste tester. Someone had to make sure it passed inspection, right?

“WAIT!” Em screeched as Steve reached over her head to pick up the tin to put it in the oven once they finished scooping the filling. He smiled in confusion as she reached over to stick her finger in the filling and dragged it through.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Uncwe Will says a good artist always signs theiwe work!” Em answered proudly. She leaned back slightly once she was done, tiny index finger pointing to the squiggles now etched in the pie. “Emewy…and Daddy!”

Steve could have melted into a puddle right then and there if he could.

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

Nothing could have prepared Steve when he saw you come down the stairs a few hours later. While he had dressed up in a navy button down and slacks, you had somehow transformed into a work of art. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you moved from setting the table to adjusting the pigtails you put in Amy’s hair. God, how did he ever get so lucky?

When you finally caught his stare, you smiled and walked over in his direction. “Hey there, handsome,” you quipped. “What’s captured your attention?”

“You,” came the smooth reply. “Always you. Can’t believe I got so lucky."

“I think,” you started as you smoothed out the collar of his shirt, “that I’m the lucky one.”

Before he could say more, guests began arriving and the rest of the night sped by in a blur. The Harrington household was filled with the sounds of laughter and silverware tapping against plates. Eddie and Dustin caught up with Mike and Lucas, lamenting about the various adventures of their Dungeons and Dragons groups. They had planned to get the rest of Hellfire to complete some kind of oneshot over the break, but Steve lost the ability to understand what they were talking about somewhere around the introduction of the land of Frotsgaard.

You were catching up with Nancy and Robin, who had moved out to New York to focus on their education and careers. After graduation, Nancy started work as a cub reporter for the New York Times, whereas Robin decided to study theater and English at NYU. They had just gotten a small apartment near 8th Ave that they absolutely couldn’t wait to decorate. Robin was already talking about Christmas trees, much to Nancy’s chagrin.

Em was practically bursting at the seams to talk about her pumpkin pie that she had baked with Steve. She told everyone about her design and proudly showed off her signature to Will, who grinned and ruffled her hair. He called her a natural artist, which only made her squeal with happiness more. Amy took that as an opportunity to show off her latest drawing to Dustin, who promised to hang it up in his dorm as soon as he got back.

At one point in the evening, Steve reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss your temple. He brought his chair closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. As Robin continued to describe her latest class in a very animated fashion, he could feel you relax in his hold. He pressed another kiss against your skin, this time against the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear.

This was all he truly needed.

Growing up, the holidays may not have been anything special for Steve. He would have traded anything to have a kinder family, to have parents that cared. But with the family he has now? The love he found with you, the happiness he feels with your girls? He wouldn’t change that for the world. For once in his life, Steve spent Thanksgiving happy and actually thankful for those in his life.

And that’s all he could ever ask for.

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

Author's Note: To my American readers, happy thanksgiving! I'm actually surprised I was able to draft and write this idea just in time for the holiday. In all, this took me about 3 hours to write and format. As you can tell, I am still head over heels for domestic Steve Harrington, especially dad!Steve. I had this idea and just knew it needed to be written down. I hope to write more dad!Steve in the future because his interactions with little Em are just precious.

If you want to see more fics like this on my blog, make sure to drop a comment and reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's the reblogs that really help spread the word about my writing and send the happy emotion chemicals into my singular brain cell. Want to join my taglist? Shoot me a message, an ask, or even reply to this post and I'll be sure to tag you! :)

Finally, if you have ideas for dad!Steve, send me your thoughts and maybe I'll have the motivation to craft a fic from it. Either way, I'll definitely be responding and sharing the love for our guy. Until next time, my lovely sparks! <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #gender neutral reader #dad!steve harrington #thanksgiving fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #frostandflamesfanfic #joe keery #joe keery imagines

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juyeonszn · 9 months

Text

AND THEN THERE IS YOU

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader (gn technically since there are no gendered terms)

WORD COUNT 1.17k

GENRES fluff ﹒very slight angst like blink and u miss it

WARNINGS another fic of mine that doesn’t require an 18+ warning… fawn in her tamed era 🙏, ur heart will ache from how </3 this is, mentions of divorce, reader had kind of a shitty childhood, reader also has some intimacy issues, hak is the most patient and kind person ever, throws up everywhere bc me when </3

SUMMARY he was content loving you until you were ready to love him.

MORE ANDDDDD my insanity strikes again!!!!1!1!1! aka in my dr. seuss william shakespeare edgar allan poe steven king arc 😍 my inspiration has been crazy lately, so enjoy this before juyeonszn goes into a drought deeper into the semester 😭 ANYWAYS MAE (@maessseongs) HERE U GO!! i kept it fluffier and kinda short bc it just felt right, i hope that’s okay with u! this is the last request from my 100 followers event so far ✨ prompts used are: 2, 7 >:)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

Relationships were a weird concept to you. Growing up, you’d never really been shown affection. Your parents weren’t the type to pack your lunch for school in the morning and send you off with a peck on the cheek followed by an ‘I Love You’.

In fact, they never told you that they loved you very often. Maybe a handful of times in your whole life did you hear those three words uttered from them. And even less did you hear that they were proud of you. It was worse when you took a step back and watched their own crumbling marriage.

As long as they’d been together, you never heard them tell the other how much they were appreciated. They fought more than they got along. You usually fell asleep to the sound of doors slamming and loud arguing in the hallway. When they finally decided to get a divorce, you almost cried out of joy. They were draining more out of you than each other.

So, perhaps that had to do with your fucked up view of relationships as you became an adult. You could never fully comprehend what love was since you didn’t exactly have stellar role models. Boyfriends came and went, losing interest as soon as they realized how disconnected you were. Your heart was never truly in it.

And then, you met Haknyeon.

Sweet sweet Haknyeon, who only cared about your happiness and your well being. Haknyeon, who didn’t ask you for more than you could give. Who didn’t push you for answers when you shut him out. Who patiently waited on the sidelines while you rebooted yourself.

If there were a higher being out in the universe, they’d done an excellent job at putting all the best qualities into Ju Haknyeon. By some miracle or a stroke of luck, he found his way to you. You’ll always think that he deserves better than you, but you’ll also always be eternally grateful that you have him.

As summer takes its last breath and the air begins to chill, leaves wilting to the streets and crunching below the feet of passersby, your motivation to get up in the mornings has started its tumultuous decline. You don’t know what it is about the change in seasons that continues to put a damper in your mood as the years go on, but it’s become almost too much to bear. It was no longer a dull pressure in the pit of your stomach and the back of your mind. Now it was a heaviness that settled in your heart and weighed you down.

It was a Thursday evening and you were tucked into bed already, despite a peek of the sun still visible over the horizon. Your head was pounding despite the room being silent. You curl into yourself further just as your bedroom door creaks open. Haknyeon whispers an apology, going to exit the room when he sees the state you’re in.

It was standard for him to leave you alone until you were ready to talk. He knew you had a hard time opening up, considering what you’d grown up with, and he didn’t want to be the person who pestered you to tell him what was wrong. He wanted you to feel comfortable coming to him first. Haknyeon couldn’t handle being the reason you were pushed to your breaking point.

But for some reason, this time is different. You don’t want to be left alone. You want to be held. You want him to kiss your forehead and tell you he loves you, unlike what you had when you were younger.

“Hak, wait,” you call, voice slightly hoarse. “Stay. Please.”

He’s taken aback by your request, but doesn’t hesitate to follow through. He climbs into the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your center. In spite of the fact that this wasn’t a usual occurrence, that cuddling was something you’ve only done a couple other times, he embraces you as if this was second nature for him. As if holding you in his arms was his very life source.

“Are you sure?” He asks softly, words spoken gently into your hair.

“Mhm, I want this,” you nod, nuzzling into his arm. “I have never felt this safe with anyone before.”

Haknyeon’s breathing stutters. You’ve never admitted this to him before, you’ve never ever said ‘I Love You’, but he’s always been willing to wait. He understood that this was a new territory for you. He was content loving you until you were ready to love him, even if it took months— even if it took years. That’s how much he cared for you. In his eyes, you were the reason there were stars in the sky. You were the reason why the sun rose in the morning and why the moon shone at night.

He kisses your temple. “I’ll be here to protect you.”

You turn in his arms to get a good look at his face. Because it was so rare that you were this close, you wanted to memorize his features from this distance. You trace his cheekbones and jawline with your thumb, eyes flickering down to his lips.

You lean forward, minimizing the gap between you to press your lips into a sweet kiss, almost as sweet as him. Haknyeon gasps out of surprise, but quickly reciprocates your affection, bringing up a hand to cup your face. He allows you to set the pace, to move at a speed you were comfortable with in case this was all you wanted.

When you pull back to catch your breath, he smiles, taking in how pretty you were. He could never get enough of you. He thinks that was his biggest flaw, being so greedy when it came to you. He couldn’t help but indulge himself every time you let him, though if it were a sin, he’d gladly commit it over and over again.

“However many years we have left, I wanna spend them all with you.”

You feel the tears dripping down your cheeks before you register that you’re crying. You couldn’t possibly fathom how Haknyeon came to find love in the form of you; the hollow shell of a person who’s never felt the warmth of another human in their life. You didn’t think you deserved someone like him. The only logical explanation was that you were a saint in a past life, and the higher being you mentioned earlier was rewarding you for it.

But even so, he loved you. Enough that he wasn’t afraid to spend the rest of his life with you waking up on the other side of the bed.

He swipes away some stray tears with the pad of his thumb and kisses your nose. You let out a small laugh, connecting your lips once more. It conveys all you want to say, but you know saying it out loud will make it concrete. It’ll solidify what you’ve been building up the courage to finally tell him.

“I wanna spend them all with you, too.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon fluff #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon fluff #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩

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hellogyu · 2 years

Text

anything for you.

content: sub!vernon, service top? vernon? but like without the top, fem!reader, oral (reader receiving), praise, cringe romance bc i can’t write romance ew, i think around 1.3k words, not proofread sorry hehe

“i don't even know how to thank you for tonight, i seriously owe you big time.” you sigh, leaning your head on vernon’s shoulder.

you let out an obnoxious yawn. it’s a miracle you’re even standing right now, watching impatiently as the elevator climbs every floor at an agonizing pace.

you had both just come from a dreadfully long concert for one of your favorite artists—one that vernon had never even heard of before. he had only gone because he figured it’d be safer if someone came with you, rather than stupidly going alone like you had planned to do.

it was a good idea that he came along, though. you don't know what would've happened if he wasn't there to shove away unwanted flirty advances or hold you close when people got too rough. his safe presence made enjoying the concert a whole lot easier. you were truly grateful for him.

“don't worry about it. despite what you think, tonight wasn’t some annoying chore for me.“

you perk your head up, gesturing for him to elaborate.

he continues, turning to look down at you, “it’s fun watching you have fun.”

you look at him in disbelief.

“you’re too nice, i don’t get it.”

he opens his mouth but before he can say anything, he's interrupted by the elevator doors sliding open.

“hmm?” you ask, stepping out and waiting for him to follow.

“no nothing.” he brushes it off.

the two of you trudge down the hallway to your apartment. it takes you literal centuries to locate your keys to unlock the door and when you do, you all but collapse inside. he follows in after you, grabbing your forearm to keep you from toppling over.

“you didn't even drink, how are you falling?”

“everything aches, especially my feet. these heels are killing me.”

his eyes flicker down and then back up at you. he starts to get down on his knees and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. looking at you for approval, his hand moves to untie the lace straps wrapped around your calf.

“can i?” he asks.

you nod slowly and find yourself staring back a little too long, admiring the way he looks up through his long lashes.

he breaks eye contact first to finish with your laces, then lifts your foot to take the heel completely off. your hand subconsciously falls to his head for support, tugging lightly on his hair to balance yourself.

he lets out a subtle whimper at your action, causing his face to redden in embarrassment. you smile to yourself in satisfaction, knowing the little inklings you had about his sexual preferences were right.

with one heel off, he switches to your other foot, untying the laces and removing the heel with the same gentle concentration as before. every warm touch he leaves on your skin pulls you further and further into your thoughts, imagining all of the things you’d do to him if he let you.

you were rarely uncomfortable with vernon. in fact, you two were so close that almost nothing flustered you. it wasn’t uncommon to be touchy or even a little flirty, but something about this felt different.. more intimate.

you sigh in relief when both feet are freed, running your fingers through his hair in gratitude. he leans into your touch and looks up at you again with those same adoring eyes.

“feel better?” he asks, glad to be of some help.

“mm, much better. you’re so good to me.”

“of course, anything for you.” he smiles shyly.

“anything?” you smirk.

his hand that is still unknowingly caressing your ankle flexes for a moment. he doesn’t have to think twice about it. he’s known since the moment he’s met you that there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, especially when it came to your pleasure.

“anything.” he vows with absolute certainty.

the word shoots straight to your core. there’s nothing more attractive than complete and utter devotion.

it’s his turn to watch in confusion and then in shock as you hike your dress up to your hips, spreading your legs apart to reveal the large wet patch on your panties.

“you’d take care of this for me then, right?”

he gulps, not able to think clearly while his face is so unbelievably close to your heat.

you furrow your brows in concern, tilting his chin up so he can look at your face and not at the arousal dripping down your legs.

“vern, you good? we don’t have to-“

“no please i want to. need to make you feel good. please.”

you chuckle a little at his sudden eagerness.

“then make me feel good baby, use your mouth.”

he hesitantly reaches out to hook his fingers into your panties, looking back up at you for reassurance.

“that’s it, keep going.”

he carefully slides your panties off of your hips and down your legs, watching as the soaked fabric peels off of your core. a string of arousal connects from your bare pussy to the material, and he swears he could cum untouched from the lewdness of it all.

you take the panties from him and toss them aside, widening your stance for easier access. he moves in closer until his breath tickles your core, lips hovering just centimeters away from it.

he looks up at you, waiting for your permission before he starts, despite being painfully needy.

“go ahead baby, you can taste me.”

his eyes stay fixed on yours as he slowly swipes his tongue through your folds once to test the waters.

he can’t even wait 3 more seconds before he’s moving in again to eagerly lick and suck at your pussy, already drunk off of your arousal.

you lace your fingers through his hair and tug him closer to you, adding more pressure to his movements. he lets out a whimper that goes straight to your core, causing your footing to falter slightly. after jumping around at a concert all night, your legs might legitimately give out at any second.

he notices and brings the weight of your thigh over his shoulder, giving himself easier access in the process. his movements are rough and sloppy, but the pressure is perfect and every time he whimpers, you’re brought closer and closer to release.

“just like that. you’re doing so good for me baby, making me feel so good.”

the praise only spurs him on more and you can tell he’s working hard because of the violent flush all over his cheeks. after the most exhausting night imaginable, he still gives you his all, even as it’s taking every last ounce of energy in him.

you’re overwhelmed with love and arousal at the realization, so much so, that you’re brought to the edge sooner than you expected.

“oh fuck- vern. gonna- gonna cum already.”

he continues with what he’s doing, eyes widening when your other hand also laces through his hair, tugging his face into your heat even more. he lets you use him as you need, following your movements obediently. eventually you’re moving his mouth onto your pussy yourself, roughly grinding his tongue against your clit.

your orgasm hits you hard. it’s a struggle to even stay standing as your entire body threatens to go limp. you can’t tell if it’s from the concert or the orgasm but your vision blurs and your ears ring violently.

when your full orgasm washes over you, you have to push his head away and drop next to him on the floor, catching your breath and regaining your senses.

when you’ve finally gained the strength to speak again, vernon’s already helping you stand up to go shower. he puts your arm around his neck for support, but practically carries you there himself.

“thank you,” you say meekly, “that felt so good vern. you have to be so tired after all you’ve done for me today, i can’t understand how or why you do it?”

“because i want to.” he says, like the answer is obvious.

“well, i appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. i truly don’t deserve how good you are to me, but i’ll make it up to you somehow i promise.”

“you don’t have to. i’d still do anything for you.. no matter what.”

#seventeen smut #vernon smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen drabbles #seventeen imagines #seventeen kpop #vernon #vernon chwe #vernon x reader #kpop smut #sub!idol #sub!vernon #seventeen x reader

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horseshoegirl · 1 year

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 8 - Drift Away

📜... Okay, I get it. Almost kisses suck 😂 Hopefully, some Sadie / Jake time might make up for it in the meantime?

I promise you don't have to wait for it that much longer.

❗️18+, strong language, angst, godmother reader/original female character, original child character.

#6.4K words

Part 7 | Masterlist | Part 9

“I wish you would have told us, Liz,” Nat said, staring down at Tyler's letter in her hands.

The Daggers showing up at your house unannounced was a common thing before Sadie. Your place only being 5 minutes down the road from the Hard Deck made it the perfect crash pad when they would go a little harder than they should sometimes or if they just wanted a place to escape.

However, they rarely got a day off during the week. Even if they weren’t flying, they were usually doing something on base. So when Bradley, Nat and Jake showed up at your door while Sadie was at school, it was obvious it wasn't for a social visit.

Due to a faulty coms tower and gas leak in the hangers, they had a week off. And the first thing they wanted to do was corner you on your couch and talk about Tyler. Jake had told Rooster, so naturally, Rooster would have told Nat.

You rarely saw Jake in the weeks that had passed since New Year’s Eve. With the weather being what it was and their training schedules being a mess from the last mission, Saturday nights hadn’t resumed back to their normal status.

You didn't know where you stood with Jake after that Night. The line between friendship and something more was being distorted. The better part of you, the one who constantly had Ridley's voice in your ear, was telling you to buck up and ask him about it. The other part of you, the more reserved, saying not to because you were probably making a bigger deal about it than you should.

A kiss on New Year's Eve, even an almost kiss such as that one, could be shared between friends, right?

It was a miracle if you got to see any one of them for longer than five minutes unless Bradley was picking Sadie up from School. Such as life in the Navy, you thought. That part of their life came first.

Jake had kept the letter from you, which you were semi-grateful for. Your nerves had severely calmed down since not being able to pull that stupid thing out to look at it every time Tyler entered your mind.

“Is it bad I don’t want Sadie to know?” you couldn't help but feel a little shameful for not telling her. But you knew your niece, she would be constantly worried about looking over her shoulder if she did know.

Jake was quick to answer you. “No. She doesn’t need any more on her plate.”

Rooster stood off to the side, leaning against the wall while twirling his thumbs. “How much does she know about Tyler?”

You bit your lip, looking up at Jake. He gave you a soft smile and an encouraging nod. Maybe it was time you told them the full story.

“Enough to know he’s not a good person,” you offered. “When she was born, Ridley and I swore we wouldn’t sugarcoat things with her. And that she wouldn’t go through what we went through.”

Nat placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve never really told us about it.”

You shook your head. “It’s not something I like to talk about. It has nothing to do with you guys.”

Bradley shook his head fondly. “That explains why she’s so well-rounded.”

You chuckled softly at his words before starting to cite the story to Nat and Rooster, much like you did with Jake that day on the hike, telling them about you and Ridley's escape from your childhood home and the worst of Tyler.

You couldn't take your eyes off Jake as the details of your past spilled out of you. He offered you a comforting smile or encouraging words when you struggled, reminding you to breathe. And when you finally reached the part about Tyler, Rooster and Nat saw red.

Rooster pushed himself off the wall, ranking his fingers through his hair. “I swear to god, he’s dead if he shows his face around here.”

“Get in line, Bradshaw." Jake's voice was firm. "I called first dibs.”

“Nope, ladies first," Nat pipped up. “Nobody is going after my niece. I get the first punch.”

You didn't know whether they were being serious or not, but their banter was doing wonders to lighten the mood. But then the shrill ringtone of your phone put a stop to their discussion of who would get to beat the shit out of Tyler first almost instantly.

There were times you never really answered the phone when the caller ID came up as unknown. But Sadie was at school, and you knew you couldn't let it go to voicemail for whatever reason. Even if seeing that 'Unknown' across the top of your phone triggered instant panic throughout your body - nothing good ever came from a phone call like this.

Bradley, Nat and Jake all remained silent as they watched you answer the phone.

“Hello?” you asked hesitantly.

“Hello, is this Elizabeth Beck?”

“Speaking?”

“It’s Mrs. Kirkland from Child Protective Services. Are you able to come in on Wednesday at 3:30 for a quick chat?”

You shouldn't have answered the phone. You were nervous as fuck.

“Um.. yes, I can.”

“Great, it shouldn’t take any longer than 15 minutes of your time.”

Your mind was on autopilot, your brain subconsciously offering the words before you could really formulate them. “Sure.”

“Great, we will see you then! Have a good day!”

“You too,” your voice quiet, though the click on the other end of the line told you the reply wasn’t needed. Dropping your phone into your lap, you hugged your chest.

“Liz?” Jake asked, sitting up in his chair and leaning forward. Nat turned to face you on the couch. “Is everything alright?”

“Um... that was CPS. I need to go in again,” you sniffed, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “On Wednesday at 3:30.”

“It’s probably the review,” Bradley pipped up. Jake glared at him, hoping he would take the hint and shut up.

“Shit, I have work. I have to close that night,” you realized. "I need someone to pick up Sadie from school and drive her to Penny's. Amelia has her car that day."

You immediately faced Rooster, a hopeful look on your face. Bradley grimaced, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’m going up with Mav to the research camp the day before to help with a test flight.”

Your mind instantly went to Lyssa next, but she couldn't do it either. Will had a hockey game. And you knew Penny would instantly try to find a way to take your shift off your hands if she knew, but you didn't want to take advantage of her kindness. She already did enough for you.

Natasha was about to open her mouth when suddenly Jake pipped up next to you. “I can do it.”

You stared at him, shocked. "You wanna pick Sadie up from school? Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I don't mind. I'm not doing anything else, and I wouldn't mind spending some time with her."

Your face softened, but you cautiously eyed Rooster, preparing for a snide remark or another red-faced tomato moment in protest. Instead, you were surprised Bradley was looking at Jake almost appreciatively? Nat, however, was looking at Jake suspiciously.

"I'll call the school Wednesday then to let them know. And if you find Lyssa, Sadie will know where to go to find you," you told him.

Rooster walked over to Jake to stand in front of him, a funny look on his face. "And the one rule..."

“Don’t flirt with Courtney Slack," he was quick to reply. "I know."

It surprised you, Jake remembering such a small detail, even if you almost killed Rooster over it. However, you wouldn't blame Jake if he did. Jake was flirty by nature, and you were nothing like her.

“Besides, how hard could it be?”

Rooster chuckled, dropping his head before slapping Jake on the back with a shit-eating grin.

“Dude, you have no idea what you just agreed to.”

___

The morning of your visit with CPS, you made sure to call the school to let them know Jake would be picking Sadie up. Thankfully, when you explained the Tyler issue, they hadn’t swept up your concerns under the rug. Sadie’s file had the names of everyone who could call or pick her up, the list probably longer than most kids at that school, now even longer with the addition of Jake.

On the nights you would close the Hard Deck, Penny would have Sadie sleep over at hers. As much as you appreciated the support, you had a feeling it was more for Penny's benefit than yours. She adored Sadie, and you often wondered if she was missing when Amelia was her age.

So here you were, dropping off Sadie's bag before starting the painstaking journey to the CPS building.

“You know, I could have covered your shift,” Penny said as she took Sadie's overnight bag from you. You shook your head, crossing your arms as you leaned up against the side of her house.

“You already take enough of my shifts. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. Somebody would still need to pick up Sadie.”

Penny raised her eyebrow.

“So Hangman volunteered to pick her up?” she asked, copying you by resting up against her door frame. She was examining you, seeing if, at any point, you’d fess up to something shouldn’t have done. You very much felt like a child being called out by their mother, but you weren’t sure why.

“Yeah, Sadie named him as an uncle, so he wanted to spend some time with her.”

“Oh,” she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. “So his has nothing to do with what happened on New Year’s Eve?”

You stiffened. Shit.

You should have known Penny would have seen you, seen what had happened. Nothing happened in the Hard Deck that she didn’t know about. You had hardly accepted it had happened, and you certainly didn't want to be having this conversation with her.

“Penny..” you said meekly, staring at her wide-eyed.

“Do I need to throw him out of the bar?”

“What?" you admonished. "No, absolutely not.”

“And here I thought you wouldn't give into him!"

“Penny, stop. Jake’s not that bad.”

"And now you're going to leave me!" she cried out. "You were my best, and he got to you!"

"Penny," you started to laugh. "I'm not leaving you. Nothing happened."

"Really?" she threw her hands up. "What do you call what happened that night then?!"

You crossed your arms, head turning to frown at her flower garden.

"I don't know," It came out sadder than you intended, your voice wavering as you tried to make sense of it all. "I told myself when I met him for the first time that I wouldn't get involved. Then Sadie.." you sniffed, wiping at your face.

"I think I like him," you admitted. "But I'm so fucking confused. And I don't want to disappoint you."

Penny suddenly looked sullen, realizing as you spoke to her that maybe she took this a little too far. She reached up and placed a hand on your shoulder before moving to your face.

"I'm sorry, Liz," she pressed the palm of her hand to your cheek. "I don't want you to feel as if you cannot come to me with these things."

You shuttered a breath, and Penny stroked a piece of your hair back behind your ear, reminding you of how you would do that with Sadie.

"It's just... you've never had a boyfriend," she chuckled softly. "I don't want you to get your heart broken."

Your laugh came out of nowhere. "I'm too much of a worry-wart to have a romantic relationship."

Penny smiled softly. "No, I think you care too much."

She pulled you into a hug, her head resting on your shoulder. "If Jake is serious about you, I won't stand in your way."

You shook your head, pulling back to smile at her. "Thanks, Penny, but I think he just wants to be my friend, which is totally fine. I just need to get over whatever this is."

Penny frowned at you but didn't press you further. She walked you to your car, hugging you goodbye and wishing you luck with the meeting. After you climbed into your car, she placed her elbows down on the open window of your car.

“Can I at least drag him for it?”

You thought about it for a second. You knew what she was doing. Starting your car, you put on your sunglasses and turned to face Penny, calling out your window, “Don’t leave him squirming for too long.”

___

Jake knew he was attractive. He often used it to his advantage to get what he wanted, enjoying the looks he'd get walking into a random place or when he was out on the street.

But the predatory glances he was receiving on a black top full of married middle-aged women?

It just freaked him out.

Maybe he would have thought differently once upon a time. But he also knew how catty women could be - if the way they were covering their mouths and leaving over to gossip to one another as he walked by meant anything. The minute Sadie found him, he knew your name would be whispered around like it was a dirty secret in some sorority magazine.

He found Lyssa where you said she'd be, leaning up against the wall near the basketball hoops. She waved him over, a smile on her face.

"Enjoying all the attention?" she said, greeting him.

"Have these women never seen a man before, or am I going to cause a riot?

"You're fine," she shrugged. "Just watch out for Ursula."

"Ursula?" Jake asked. Lyssa grinned, realizing he didn't know. "Will and Sadie call Courtney Slack Ursula ever since what happened with Rooster."

"Why do they call her Ursula?"

Lyssa only laughed, offering a vague, "You'll see."

Jake suddenly found himself not wanting to find out. Hoping Sadie would hurry up, he kept his eyes glued to the door, waiting for her to emerge. Sure enough, a bright green backpack caught his eye a few minutes later as one of Sadie’s teachers walked beside her.

He spied her, turning around and searching the crowd until her eyes finally landed on him.

“Uncle Jake!” It was a loud scream, Sadie’s joy infectious as she started to sprint from the front door and away from her teacher. Jake shot the person a wave, the teacher returning it before heading back inside.

If Jake wasn’t as fit as he was, he was pretty sure Sadie would have knocked him over with how heavily she flung herself into him, arms and legs completely wrapping themselves around his body. It took him a second to recover, but he returned her hug, laughter shaking his body as he asked, “How was school, Bug?”

“Boring,” she called out dramatically, sliding down to the ground before glancing up at him hopefully. “Can we go for a drive?”

“I have to get you to Penny’s.”

“Text Aunt Liz. She won’t mind.”

Jake was about to open his mouth to reply before a shrill feminine voice caused him to stop.

“Well, Hello there. I thought I would come over and introduce myself.”

Oh no, Sadie thought upon hearing that voice— the Wicked Sea Witch.

She turned on her heel, staring up at Rebecca’s mom. And she had her sights set on her Uncle Jake.

Nope, this would not happen. She had already ensnared one Uncle, and Uncle Jake wouldn’t fall under her spell if she had anything to do with it.

"I'm Courtney Slack. Which one of Sadie's uncles are you?" she attempted to flirt, sending Jake a doe-eyed look.

Eyeing Mrs. Slack carefully, Sadie went to stand in front of Jake, subconsciously puffing out her chest.

She felt her uncle Jake place a hand on her shoulder. Sadie tilted her head back to look up at him from upside down. He gave her a knowing look, raising his eyebrows at her.

Sadie prided herself on being able to read people's faces. And if she was reading this right, and she was always right, her Uncle Jake was telling her to play along. She was going to but couldn’t keep the chant from her head.

Please don’t be like Uncle Roo. Please don’t be like Uncle Roo.

She watched as her uncle Jake squared up the witch, a fake smile on his face as he said, "Oh, I'm Elizabeth's boyfriend."

Sadie tried as hard as she could not laugh, biting her lip hard to keep herself quiet.

Definitely not like Uncle Roo.

The flirty grin on Courtney's face dropped. "Oh, she never mentioned she was seeing anybody."

Reaching up to squeeze her uncle's hand on her shoulder, Sadie felt him squeeze it back.

“Didn’t know she had to,” he replied shortly, sending Courtney nothing but a scathing glare. “But now I can see why she didn’t.”

“I can’t imagine where she found you,” she tried again, another attempt at a seductive tone. “Elizabeth never seems to want to join our little meetings.”

"Not wherever you got your hair done, that's for sure."

Sadie caught herself in a sort, watching Courtney's face turn red. Sensing sea water was about to blow out of her nose, she wanted to get as far away from Rebecca's mom as she could.

“Come on, Uncle Jake,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging it as she leaned back. The sooner they both got out of there, the sooner her uncle would be safe from the crazy sea witch. Whatever spell she had cast on her Uncle Roo hadn’t worked with Uncle Jake, and she didn’t want to see what else she had up her sleeve.

“Duty calls!” he shrugged at her. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Flack… I mean Slack!”

Lyssa snickered as Jake and Sadie left, watching Jake peel Sadie’s backpack from her shoulders to sling around his. Looking at Courtney, she could see the gears turning in her head.

“Sorry, Slack. Looks like that one’s taken.”

Courtney turned to face Lyssa, her face red. “Your seriously telling me Elizabeth Beck bagged him?”

"Bagged him, captivated him, charmed him, take your pick."

"But she's so.."

"What? Not like you?" Lyssa snarked. "Thank god for that."

Courtney spluttered, her words coming out in a jumbled mess of how dare Lyssa say such a thing about her and that anyone, let alone a naval officer, would be grateful to be with her.

Lyssa just shrugged, reaching out to take Will's hand before walking off. If anyone saw her throw her middle finger over her head, she'd never admit to it.

The second Jake and Sadie had made it to his truck, the both of them stared at each other. Sadie squinted her eyebrows, and Jake held his breath. It only took three seconds before the pair of them started to lose it, laughing over what had happened. Sadie’s high-pitched giggles mixed in with the occasional snort from Jake.

“Is she always that bad?”

“Worse,” Sadie replied. “She usually seeks out Uncle Roo. He forgets I’m there for a second.”

That sobered Jake's laughter, a frown now etched across his face. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“No?” she asked him, her eyes wide and innocent.

Jake shook his head. “We can look out for each other when I do. I need a wingman to deal with Ursula."

Sadie’s eyes lit up. She knew she wasn’t the only one who noticed it. “She’s totally a sea witch, right?!”

"I think it's the hair. Maybe that's where she hides her tentacles."

Sadie squealed out in another fit of laughter. She knew her Uncle Jake wouldn't treat her like that. As her laughter died down, Sadie marched to the back passenger seat of Jake's truck, all the while saying, "Come on! We need to go for that drive."

Jake shook his head and came around to help her get up into the seat, carefully shutting the door behind her. But coming around to the back of his truck, he stopped realizing he needed to message you, knowing with everything going on, how important it was for you to know Sadie was with somebody safe as soon as possible.

Pulling out his phone, he sent you a text.

I have her. She wants to go for a drive.

You texted back within a few seconds.

Good luck.

And then...

She wants to talk to you.

Seeing your message, Jake suddenly understood what Bradley was talking about. It wasn’t Slack he should have worried about.

“You coming?” Sadie called out impatiently through the open window at the back of the truck. She had stuff she needed to talk to her Uncle Jake about and couldn't do it here.

“Just sending a text to your aunt,” he called back before glancing at Sadie through the window, realizing Rooster was right.

He really didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

___

When Sadie asked to go on a drive, Jake didn’t really know where else to take her other than the lookout. It was a spot he found a few weeks after the uranium mission when he learned the team would be staying together. It was off on some random stretch of road that overlooked the ocean, the small parking lot randomly appearing after some twist in the road.

He'd come here when he needed an escape or to be alone. And if you were right, it would be the perfect place for Sadie to talk with him.

Jake backed his truck into a parking spot that overlooked the ocean. Helping Sadie out of the truck with a hand, he proceeded to flip the door on the back of his truck bed down.

Sadie instantly caught on, trying to climb up but failing miserably to bring her body onto the door. She shamefully turned to Jake, a quiet peal for help on her face. Jake said nothing, pulling her up before sitting beside her, legs dangling over the side.

The two sat silently for a while, Jake listening to the waves crash up against the shore, waiting for Sadie to feel comfortable enough to say what she wanted to tell him.

It was a few minutes before he heard her ask, "Do you like my aunt?"

Jake watched Sadie play with the end of a piece of thread hanging off her jeans before answering, "Yes, what isn't there to like about your aunt?"

“No, but do you like, like her?”

Give it to Sadie, to be blunt. Jake carefully thought about what he could say back to her.

"You mean as in.." he trailed off, hoping it would prompt Sadie to speak further. But she didn't. Instead, she turned her head away so Jake couldn't see her face.

And then he knew.

"Is that why you sent me that photo of her?"

Sadie blushed, dropping her chin to her chest. "Please don't tell her I did that."

Jake tried to keep his voice level as he answered, "If you don't want me to."

“It's just..." she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "She needs somebody in her life to remind her she’s worth it.”

Jake nudged her. “Aren’t you that person?”

Sadie pondered Jake's question, squinting her eyebrows together as if she had to really think about her answer.

"It's different with me," She shrugged. "She's my aunt. I can only do so much."

"So you think I'm that person?" he asked her.

Sadie raked her eyes up and down Jake's body. “You wouldn’t be the worst choice.”

"Thanks, Bug," he said sarcastically. But Sadie's next words were like a cold rush of water over his body when she finally spoke up after a few seconds.

"But you make her happy. And she hasn't really been happy since Mom passed away. She's never even had a boyfriend."

Despite Sadie's admission, he gave her a soft smile. "You know that's not true. She's happy when she's around you."

"Yeah," she looked down at her hands. "But she's scared she's going to do the wrong thing. I just wish she'd know it's okay for her to ... not be so strong around me. Maybe she would stop worrying about everything if she had someone who cares about her like that."

Jake wrapped an arm around Sadie's shoulders, bringing her tight to his side. "You know that's because she loves you. As well all do."

Sadie sagged most of her weight into Jake at his words. "Thank you, Uncle Jake."

"So," she said after a while, picking at the frayed fabric of her jeans. "If you did want to be that person, I'm okay with it."

Jake couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, Bug."

"Besides," She smiled to herself. " If you mess up, I'm coming for you."

As if he didn't already know that.

---

Penny was waiting for the pair of them on her front step when Jake pulled into her driveway. He called after her to be careful when she jumped out of the truck before he had even stopped, Sadie sprinting to jump into her Aunt's arms. Jake shook his head, reaching over the seat to grab her backpack before getting out and walking up to her front step.

“What do we say to Uncle Jake, Bug?”

Sadie peeled herself out of Penny's arms, stepping down the few steps to give him a hug. She dramatically said in a sing-song voice, “Thank you, Uncle Jake.”

Leaning over, Jake returned her hug. But Sadie went up on her tiptoes, pulling Jake down and whispering, “Think about what I said.”

She happily hopped back to Penny, wrapping an arm around her waist. She ruffled Sadie’s head before asking, “Why don’t you head on inside? Fresh cookies are on the table, and your aunt dropped off your bag earlier.”

Sadie frowned. Adults had funny ways of getting rid of her. And her Aunt Penny knew chocolate was one of her weaknesses. Still, she needed to know why she needed to shove out.

"I need to have a talk with your Uncle," Penny offered when she didn't move.

“Talk or have a discussion?” she pressed.

Penny shook her head, placing a hand on her back and lightly pushed her towards the door, where she stumbled into the hallway. “Get in there, you insect.”

“It’s Bug!” she shouted, already dead set on finding those cookies. Whatever her Aunt Penny had to say to Uncle Jake, she made her point earlier. There was chocolate up for grabs.

Jake faced Penny with a smirk on his face, thinking she wanted to ask about Sadie.

“So, New Year's Eve,” she started, a healthy pause before she spoke again. “Do I need to ban you permanently from the Bar?”

The smirk dropped.

"Penny..."

“I told you!” She shoved her finger into his chest angrily. “She was off limits! Not her, Hangman!”

Jake held his hands up. "Nothing happened!"

"Really? So what was that kiss? Cause I see everything in my bar."

"It wasn't really a kiss?" he recalled, shrugging his shoulders. Penny reached up and smacked him on the back of his head. Jake winced, a hand coming to rub at the spot.

"What are you doing with her, Jake?" Penny sighed. "She's not some girl you can mess around with for a night and go on as if nothing happened."

"You don't think I know that?" he snapped. Penny was slightly taken aback by his words.

"Liz is..." he started, pausing to understand exactly what he was feeling. He raked his fingers through his hair, turning in a circle before facing Penny once more. "She's never once treated me as if I was undeserving of something. That I didn't have to earn a place in her life. Or Sadie's."

He was breathing hard. Harsh pants that racked his chest as if he had pulled harsh G's in an F-18.

"And she's not afraid to put me in my place if I'm out of line. She doesn't expect anything from me either. She simply just wants time."

Feeling overwhelmed, Jake took a moment to take a deep breath. He knew he was rambling to Penny, but he was past the point of stopping. "And I don't know if I can give it to her."

There were a few moments on that last deployment where he thought he wasn't going to make it back. And the time away changed his priorities. Somehow, you and Sadie became the reason he stopped thinking about the inevitable moment he would burn in and, instead, the reason why he needed to stay alive.

Jake flew like he had nothing to lose. But now? He had everything to lose.

"She's... she's a possibility of someday," he breathed out. "And if I cannot be in her life, in Sadie's life, I don't know what I'll do."

Penny took a moment to take in Jake's words before replying, "You care about her, don't you? The both of them."

Jake gawked up at Penny as if she had just dealt him a fatal blow, as if he didn't just spit his heart out to her. He knew she wasn't really asking. Rather, she was confirming what he could never voice out loud.

So he found himself absentmindedly nodding along to Penny's statement. "The both of them."

"Are you serious about this, Jake?" It was rare for Penny to call him by anything other than his call sign. “Cause I’ll tell you, Liz has never had a boyfriend in the time that I've known her. And I've known her while.”

"I know. I think I just got some ten-year-old version of a shovel talk from Sadie."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sadie gave you a shovel talk?"

"Of a sort."

Penny glanced back at the house with a smile before taking a look at Jake one last time before making her way up to her front door. Taking it as a sign that Penny wouldn't ban or rat him out any longer, he returned to his truck.

Though he wouldn't be surprised if she did ban him, or worse, set Mav on him for good measure during a dog fight.

Jake gripped the handle of his truck, about to step up onto the ledge after opening the door, when he heard Penny’s voice call after him. He turned around to see her grinning at him from her doorway.

“She’s closing by herself tonight," a knowing smile across her face. "Could you make sure she get’s home alright?”

___

Closing the Hard Deck late at night used to freak you out.

The hours after midnight, when it was just the wind, the waves, and the night sky, only added to your fear something was lurking outside or in the water. It was much like a kid's reaction when waking up in the middle of the night, the dark shapes of objects in the room making it feel like somebody, or something, was with them in their room watching.

That was until you realized you could play the Jukebox as loud as you wanted.

You had locked the front door to the Hard Deck a little over a half hour ago. It had been such a quiet night you found yourself doing the random odd tasks that never seemed to get done. Deep cleaning the sinks, cleaning out the fridges, and making new labels for the working stations around the bar.

That also included the now regretful decision of mopping the floors, considering you would now get out of here much later than you intended. But you weren't as upset with yourself as you should have been.

Music always had a way of calming you down. It was a habit you always seemed to have growing up. If you hurt yourself or you were upset, you'd retreat to a world full of beats and lyrics. Though, looking back on photos of yourself as a child, chunky earphones almost always on your head, you started to get it. It was evident Ridley was, in a way, protecting you from the worst of your father.

Which was how you found yourself swaying back and forth, eyes closed as you brought the mop across the floor, moving along and getting lost in the music. The Hard Deck was your safe haven, and moments like this allowed you to forget everything else going on in your life.

Anticipating a swell in the music, you smiled to yourself, your eyes still closed as you spun on your heel. But something pulled the mop from your hand, and a shrill gasp escaped your lips when your back hit a firm chest, a hand now gripping your wrist softly.

“You really need to lock that back door.”

Jake spun you out under his arm, pulling you back to him so he could see your face. You shuttered out a laugh.

“Jesus, Jake. Don’t do that!”

He chuckled under his breath. "Hi, darlin'."

"Sadie made it out okay?" you asked as he placed a hand on your waist. He pulled you to the side, his hand sliding up to thread his fingers through yours, as he replied, "Safe and sound at Penny's."

You follow your arm to observe Jake's hand in yours, then peering up at him curiously, "What are you doing?"

"Slow dancing."

"No, what are you doing here?" you tired again. "It's past midnight."

"Penny said you were going to be by yourself. I wanted to make sure you made it out okay."

"I've closed by myself before, Jake."

For a split second, you thought he was fixated on your lips. But you didn't have a chance to confirm it as Jake spun you once again.

"That was before I came along." He said, pulling you back to him. "My ma would kill me if she knew I left you alone."

"Jake, I'm perfectly capable of ..." you didn't get to finish your sentence. Jake spun you once again before dipping you backwards rather dramatically. Giggling as he brought you up, his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

Taking the moment to ground yourself, you slid your hands around his back, your hands resting between his shoulder blades. Feeling dizzy, you pressed the side of your cheek into Jake's chest, letting him gently sway you back and forth as the song played from the Jukebox.

You were sure minutes could have passed, but it was only mere seconds. You felt safe in Jake's arms, content to let him hold you, to press you into his body. He was fitting so perfectly into the moment you had created for yourself where the world outside didn't exist, and it was just the two of you here, listening to music.

But the lines for you were still blurred, and the urge to ask him about New Year's Eve was still there. You felt it on the tip of your tongue, ready to come forth and burst this little bubble of joy you were taking for yourself.

“The results of the review came in,” you said instead, chickening out at the last second. Jake stopped swaying the both of you, his hands on your hip tightening as he leaned back to focus on your face.

“And?”

You remain silent.

“Liz?” he questioned you, eyes becoming slightly frantic. You dropped your chin to your chest, hands slightly gripping Jake’s bicep and shoulder tighter.

“Elizabeth, what happened?!”

You lifted your head, a wide grin spreading across your face. “There was nothing wrong. At least with the paperwork. It’s ironclad.”

He blinked. “Sadie’s staying?”

“Well, till she’s 18 or goes off to school or breaks my heart when she gets together with Will,” you shrugged.

Jake surged forward, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you up. He buried his face in your stomach, muffled shouts of ‘yes!’ making you laugh harder. Your nose grazed his hair, smelling his Moroccan shampoo as you tried to avoid hitting the ceiling.

"Jake! Put me down!" you laughed as he twirled you around in a circle.

"Hey," he said, setting you down. "Our girl deserves the best. Somebody needs to give him the shovel talk.”

Our girl.

You smiled softly at his protectiveness for Sadie. “He’s eleven, Jake.”

“Then he’ll think twice before making a move on her.”

"She's going to be dating eventually."

"Hey, I'm taking my newly appointed Uncle duties very seriously."

You pressed your forehead into his chest, soft chuckles shaking your body. Jake placed a hand on the back of your neck, the other resuming its place on your waist, as he resumed swaying you back and forth along the Hard Deck Floor.

Even with all the shit that happened - with everything you figured was still yet to happen - being here with Jake felt like nothing else mattered. The discussion about whatever happened on New Year’s Eve could wait. You didn’t want to risk ruining this bubble over both of you.

And even if you never brought it up, that would be okay too. What you had here with Jake, swaying in the middle of the night at the Hard Deck, was enough.

Jake was your friend who helped you through a stressful time.

It had to be enough.

He waited until you finished closing up to leave with you, watching you from a bar stool with a happy smile. After you shut off the lights, Jake followed you to the front door, stepping out first to look into the parking lot before holding it open.

You spied his truck and another car you weren’t familiar with but weren’t surprised. Surfers often stayed on the beach, in all seasons or weather, to catch those first morning waves. Penny not having an overnight parking rule made the Hard Deck a prim parking spot.

Though it was a bit early for the surfers to start pulling their parking lot sleepovers.

Locking the door, you felt Jake’s hand on your lower back. “Can I walk you to your car?”

You met his eyes. “I walked here.”

A pause. “Can I drive you home?”

“It’s five minutes, Jake.”

“It’s on my way,” he replied, holding out his hand for you.

You made a show about answering him. But honestly, you really didn’t need to think about it.

“Alright,” you said, placing your hand into his. “I’ll let you drive me home.”

Any more time you could spend with him was just a bonus.

You guys might not have to wait long for the next part 👀 With the threat of pitchforks still looming, I might have written part nine before part eight.

Tags:

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Part 9: Hang On, Hang On is dropping soon.

(Maybe in a day or two, I still need to edit 😂)

Wickett ;)

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