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yelena-bellova · 11 months

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Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Are

Plot: A chaotic press conference precedes a match that ends in violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language, minor violence

A/N: I’m gonna chalk this week’s chapters up to having some free time and also being really motivated to get to the next few. Phew, let me tell you…this is the last chance I’m giving y’all to breathe. The final act kicks off in the next chapter and we don’t stop till the very end…so everybody enjoy the fluff and the jokes while you’ve got them 🙃

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and, as always, enjoy!

————————

AFC Richmond’s hot streak just…kept…going.

They were killing it, both at matches and training. More importantly, they were happy. Joyful, even. Which meant everyone else was too.

More and more fans started showing up to watch training till eventually, the stands were packed. Y/n had begun to come out more often, genuinely enjoying watching the boys practice, and had found a way to make it a PR matter. She helped get the crowd riled up, engaging with them and encouraging them to cheer and chant for their players. She’d collected whatever merchandise they had a surplus of, pens or coffee mugs usually, and made a game of handing them out to the fans that came. Ted had encouraged her to keep doing it, it only further fostered the atmosphere he wanted to create.

Y/n hurried upstairs one day in particular, having missed the alarm set on her phone while she was hauling a bag of freebies from the gift shop to her office. She was never late and felt like she was going to burst into flames for being so.

“Whoa,” Ted called, just a few steps behind her, “Someone call Allyson Felix. Let her know she better watch her back.”

Y/n hung back on the landing to catch her breath, falling back in step once Ted caught up. “We ran out of the mugs the other day but I’ve got coasters and coozies for this afternoon.”

“Ooh,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ve been killin’ it in the swag department, missy. Everyone’s a little more hyped knowing they get a prize just for participation.”

Y/n grunted, “Trophies for doing nothing is also why my generation hates work, so don’t applaud me yet.”

They entered Rebecca’s office laughing only to find the atmosphere contrasting their good moods. Spread out on the couch, Keeley had her face buried in Rebecca’s lap.

“Uh-oh,” Ted announced his presence, “When girl-talk turns into girl-hug, you know that either means something horrible’s happened, or absolutely nothing at all.”

“Please say nothing at all,” Y/n set her purse down and grabbed the takeaway box Rebecca had ordered for her.

“Jack’s ghosting Keeley,” their boss explained.

“Oh, no,” Ted frowned.

Y/n sunk into the cushion beside Keeley, rubbing her shoulder as the blonde snuggled back under Rebecca’s arm.

“First, she wants to go on a break,” Ted recounted, “And now the old digital Irish goodbye. Which is a term I never really understood. ‘Cause I got a buddy back home named Seamus O’Malley, and that son of a gun hugs folks goodbye for, like, twenty minutes before he leaves anywhere.”

Y/n smiled down at her salad. The last few months may have softened her, but decades could pass and Ted would remain the same.

“Yeah,” he looked to Keeley, “Sorry to hear about that. Hey, I did make you some biscuits, you know, just to soften the blow.”

“Oh, thanks Ted,” Keeley took the pink package from him and opened it. Her eye blew open, “What? There’s like forty quid in here.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be here till this morning,” Ted explained, “No time to do anything special so I just tossed a little cash in there.”

Keeley nodded, “That is very sweet. Thank you, Ted.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it,” he shrugged, turning to Rebecca, “Hey, boss. You mind if I skip the press conference today? Michelle and I got these parent-teacher meetings I don’t wanna miss.”

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, “Of course, Ted. Family first.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So…” Y/n trailed off, “Who’s next in line?”

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over Keeley’s head. “We could have Roy do it,” she suggested, “I know he hates that stuff, but he is really good at it.”

Y/n struggled to see the “good” part of how Roy handled the press. On her last count, he’d cussed out no more than six reporters.

“I mean, you know, fine by me,” Ted replied.

Rebecca agreed, “Great idea.”

“Look at you,” Ted smiled at Keeley, “Heartbroken, but still kickin’ butt.”

“I mean, I’m not heartbroken,” Keeley fidgeted in her seat, “It’s more like heart-bent.”

“Heart-bent,” Ted mused, “I like that. It’s a great title for a country song. You know, like,” he began to sing, “I’m heart-bent, in my apartment, ‘cause all that you left, was your fart scent.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Ted,” Rebecca cued him up to leave, though Keeley was laughing and Y/n was smiling through a bite of spinach.

“And now that you’re gone,” Ted continued on his way out to the hall, “I wrote this song, ‘cause all you left was, the smell of your farts.”

Y/n pointed to the door with her fork, “Speaking on behalf of our homeland, we can do better than that.”

Rebecca snorted and Keeley rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Right,” she held out her hand, “Show me.”

Keeley handed it over and Y/n bore witness to the mile long chain of texts her boss had sent their boss. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Y/n wasn’t about to kick Keeley when she was already laid out.

“Wow,” she strained as she scrolled.

“I know,” Keeley moaned.

“It’s like a river,” Y/n mused as she surfed the rest of the blue bubbles, “Can you promise one thing?”

Keeley hummed.

Y/n handed her phone back, “No more. She’s the one that stomped on you, she gets to do the groveling.”

And grovel she should. From what Keeley had told Y/n, Jack had handled their conversation regarding the video leak and the so-called “statement” horrifically. Jack seemed offended that Keeley had dared to have a meaningful relationship before her. It was jealousy where jealousy didn’t belong.

Whereas Y/n was still struggling to comprehend Jamie and Keeley ever having been together.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Keeley threw her phone on the other side of the couch, “I’m done.”

“Good,” Y/n nodded firmly.

“And that’s all you’ve got to say?” Keeley asked with a raised brow, “Nothing else?”

Y/n purposefully filled her mouth with a far-too-large bite of lettuce. She had plenty to say on the matter, Keeley knew damn well, but she was determined not to do so unless there was a confirmed break-up. After all, Jack was still their boss.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

Rebecca and Keeley descended into a fit of snorts.

Later, the three women were were seeing Keeley out to her car. Roy was just coming down the hall when they came off the last step.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” Roy replied before looking to his ex. An awkward silence came about for three seconds, though it felt like much longer. “Keeley.”

“Roy,” she nodded back to him.

Rebecca, blissfully, pulled them out. “So I need you to fill in for Ted at today’s press conference, if that’s okay.”

Roy didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Fuck no.”

Keeley, Rebecca and Y/n were just as unflinching as they waited for the answer to change.

“I mean,” Roy backtracked, “Why can’t Ted do it?”

His eyes went from woman to woman, waiting for one of them to answer or crack or…something.

Or nothing.

“I mean,” he pasted an unnatural grin to his face, “I’d love to.”

Y/n pointed a finger and nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rebecca replied, looking to Keeley and Y/n, “Shall we?”

The three of them left Roy in the hall, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Fuck,” he said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Rebecca smirked.

“You still have my word,” Y/n remarked to her boss, “Send me up there, I’ll give them all they want to know. Sell everybody out. We’ll be on every front page in the country.”

Rebecca laughed, though Keeley missed it entirely. She was too busy glancing back at Roy.

—————————

Later in the afternoon, with the press conference a few minutes away from starting, Y/n swung by her office to pick up the notes she’d jotted down for Roy.

As she grabbed her notebook, she noticed there was a tea sitting next to her laptop.

She picked it up and examined it. It had come from the café, her name was written on the side in the big loopy handwriting Delilah, the barista, used. Assuming she wasn’t being set up to be poisoned, she took a sip and accepted the anonymous kindness.

Y/n made it down to the press room, meeting Higgins in the back and waiting for Roy to enter.

The door opened, and Beard walked through.

Y/n’s face dropped, “Um…”

“Where’s Ted?” Higgins asked.

“Where’s Roy?” Y/n corrected, “He’s supposed to be filling in.”

Beard took his seat at the desk, “Good afternoon. I know you all were expecting Ted, but he couldn’t make it today. I, however, will be happy to answer any and all questions, so,” he gestured to the desk filled with recorders and phones, “Fire away.”

Y/n took a breath, it wasn’t so bad. Beard, while not always the most sociable, was well-spoken and highly intelligent. He might have even been a better choice than Roy for his mood alone.

She regretted every thinking such a thing within two minutes.

“Look, man,” Beard sat back in the chair, “We can debate all day, Zeppelin versus Eagles, but one thing that is absolutely not up for debate is Walsh versus Page.”

“Oh, come off it,” the man fired back, “You honestly think it’s Walsh over Page?”

Y/n whispered to Higgins, “How did this go so far off the rails this fast?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She handed him her tea, “Hold this.”

Y/n quietly and calmly exited the room, breaking into a light jog in the hall and up the stairs. She knocked on Rebecca’s open door but didn’t bother to be invited in.

“Hi,” she greeted quickly, “Um, did something happen to Roy in the two hours since he was last seen?”

Rebecca’s brow lowered, “No, why?”

Y/n thinned her lips to a line, “You might wanna come downstairs.”

Without question, Rebecca followed her down and into the press room. Things had taken another turn in the minute Y/n had disappeared for.

“That is not what I said, Gary,” Beard angrily pointed to the reporter in question.

“I have your quote right here,” Gary chuckled.

“You did say it, Coach,” another on agreed.

“Stay out of this, Lloyd,” Beard snapped.

“Don’t shout at Lloyd,” Sarah, another reporter, said.

Y/n flattened her palm against her forehead.

“You said, and I quote,” Gary looked down at his notes, “‘Joe Walsh is a better guitarist than Jimmy Page.’ That’s what you said!”

Beard leaned back in his chair, exasperated by the fight he’d started. “Fine! I said it,” he spread his arms out in defeat, “But what I meant was that Joe Walsh, underrated. Jimmy Page,” he got stuck on the last word in his rage, “Overrated!”

The room was arguing amongst itself.

“I mean, Joe Walsh is a poet,” Beard went on, “Jimmy Page is a fucking court stenographer on Adderall.”

As the room digested the answer in shock, and amusement, Y/n reached out to Higgins, retaking her tea and taking a large swig as if it were wine.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary laughed, “Page could beat Walsh with one string.”

“What do you mean, beat him?” Beard replied angrily, “It’s not a competition, man. It’s art, you fucking Neanderthal!”

Y/n, Higgins and Rebecca surged forward at the same time.

“Hello,” Rebecca cheerily announced, trying to draw the attention to herself while Higgins grabbed Beard, who was still arguing with Gary. “Hello! Hello!”

Y/n acted as a shield for Higgins as he walked Beard out of the room, dropping him in the side hall. But not before Beard could get in one last insult.

“‘Stairway to Heaven’” is a glorified fingering exercise, and you all know it!”

Higgins smiled at the press as he shut the door, Y/n blindly reaching behind to help him push against Beard’s weight.

“I can’t think of the last time I was able to be here with all you absolutely…” Rebecca spoke loudly over the noise of Beard still yelling into the door. Y/n and Higgins blocked his face from view. “Just brilliant members of the press down here in the pressroom. So with that in mind, I would love to take some questions. Come on,” Rebecca spread her arms welcomingly, “Absolutely ask me anything.”

“Oh, shit,” Y/n mumbled. This wasn’t any better.

Marcus from The Independent announced himself when Rebecca nodded towards him.

“Hello there, Marcus,” she greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well.”

“Good, good.”

“Miss Welton,” Marcus asked, “In your opinion, who’s the greatest classic rock guitarist of all time?”

Rebecca stuttered a bit, stuck on the question that had her blanking out on any rock she’d ever listened to.

“The, uh…” she struggled, “The…guy from Cream.”

Higgins snorted, Y/n buried her head in her hand as the pressroom quietly and collectively laughed.

“Uh…” Rebecca began.

“I think,” Y/n came to stand beside her boss, grinning abnormally large, “That in the wake of our recent wins, we’re all still a bit hazy from the excitement. I think we’re going to call this for the day, but we’ll be ready and waiting for you after the match this Sunday against Brighton. Thank you so much!”

Y/n placed her hands on Rebecca’s back and marched her towards the door.

“Uh, Ms. Y/l/n,” Marcus spoke up, “Care to comment on who you think the greatest guitarist is?”

“Keith Richards,” Y/n answered, “Purely because he’s still standing.”

Whatever reaction she’d caused, she didn’t hear them. Her and Higgins had gotten Rebecca safely out into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” she shuddered.

“You’re alright,” Y/n patted her shoulder.

“‘The guy from Cream,’” Higgins giggled.

“Yes, all right,” Rebecca twisted to face Higgins, “Don’t start with me, Leslie! I panicked,” she took a seething breath, “I’m going to murder Roy Kent.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Y/n exhaled.

“Look, Roy not doing press is just Roy being Roy,” Higgins stated.

Y/n gestured to the door they’d just come out of, “And look where it got us.”

“Well, I am sick of Roy being Roy,” Rebecca spat, hands on her hips, “So it’s time for Rebecca to be Rebecca.”

Without another word, she marched off in the direction of the training room. The boys would nearly be done with their afternoon workout.

“Oh, yes,” Higgins agreed, “Absolutely- I couldn’t,” he turned with Y/n to watch Rebecca strut away from them, “Yeah. There you go. Yes! Ooh!”

Y/n breathed a laugh, if anyone rubbed off on her from Richmond, she hoped it was Rebecca. There was a fierceness inside her that Y/n had never possessed in her life, but she’d have liked to.

“Stay for the aftermath?” Higgins asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Y/n nodded. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to stare down Roy.

Quick enough, Rebecca marched back up the stairs, Roy following thirty seconds later. While Higgins’ best frown was still his worst smile, Y/n glared at the coach unflinchingly. He did his best to ignore them both on the way up to Rebecca’s office.

“Another day,” Y/n mumbled, her and Higgins heading their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

As she walked down the hall, some of the boys came out of the training room. She high-fived them before coming up on Jamie, bringing up the rear.

He flicked the cup of tea, still in Y/n’s hand, and smirked. “Cheers.”

Y/n looked back and met his waiting gaze, the two of them sharing a smile. The days at Nelson Road grew more unpredictable the further into the season they got, but some things were as constant as breathing.

——————

The day of the Brighton match started as normal as any other. Y/n made the familiar trek to the owner’s box, taking a seat between Keeley and Higgins, and braced for the ninety minutes of nerves she both hated and loved.

“Oh, it’s Jack,” Keeley announced as she scrolled her phone. The three of them sat to attention as they waited to hear the text, “She’s saying that she’s in Argentina…for the next couple of months.”

“Ouch,” Higgins commented. Y/n scoffed while Rebecca pulled Keeley into her side.

“Well,” Keeley took a breath, “I think our break is actually an ‘up.’ So now that Jack is officially my ex,” she looked between the group, “Please feel free to say any of the things that you didn’t like about her.”

Rebecca sighed, “Well-“

“Ooh,” Higgins chimed in, “Her handshake was way too firm. You know-“ he groaned and grunted as he imitated the action, “I get it. You’re friendly. Good riddance.”

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep the comments from flying out her mouth.

“Something you’d like to say, Y/n?” Keeley asked knowingly.

Shaking her head, she tried to go the diplomatic route. “Just want to watch some football.”

Keeley slowly nodded, staring out at the field with her.

“And she’s a fucking asshole,” Y/n muttered as low as she could to let only Keeley hear it. They smiled to one another.

Right off the bat, the Greyhounds were struggling. Isaac, usually so focused, was off his game. He cost them a goal kick and earned Brighton a corner instead. It wasn’t like him and the fans were letting their displeasure be known.

Even worse, when Colin lost an easy goal, Isaac went after him. The two of them argued until Jamie and Sam, playing peacemaker, held Isaac back from following Colin any further.

Y/n frowned, something had to have happened before the match. The boys were far more in sync than this, and they sure as hell didn’t fight each other.

The first half ended on the heels of Dani just nearly making a goal, only for Brighton to block it. The score was 1-nil as the Greyhounds trudged back to the locker room.

Higgins, Y/n, Rebecca and Keeley went silent as the fifteen minute break began. There wasn’t anything to say.

Y/n’s eyes were glazing over the crowd on the opposite side of the stadium when a commotion started. She followed the noise to the tunnel to see Isaac, leaping into the stands and grabbing one of the fans.

“Oh my gosh,” she mumbled. Keeley, Rebecca and her all rose to their feet.

With the distance, the scene could hardly be seen properly, but it appeared that Isaac was holding the fan by the shirt and yelling in his face. The ref had never pulled the red card out so fast. It was unprecedented and unacceptable.

Higgins rushed out his seat, the women moving to make room for him down the aisle. Y/n’s eyes followed Roy as he helped Isaac down and started shouting something to the security guards.

The scene died down as quickly as it began. The fan was escorted out of the stadium and the Greyhounds disappeared into the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley breathed.

Internally, Y/n began to feel some sort of panic build. She couldn’t decipher the complexities of it, all she knew was she had to move.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as Y/n slid past them.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled Keeley’s same answer, already climbing the stairs.

She hurried through the suite, past all the fans opening social media to post that they’d witnessed the fight themselves. Past all the fans in the concourse exclaiming how McAdoo was about to fucking kill the twat. Y/n couldn’t hear any of it as she made for the personnel-only entrance into the building.

When she made it to the empty hall outside the locker room, she faltered. Her immediate reaction would be to run in, but she knew it was far from appropriate. Her hand instinctively reached toward the door, even with feet of space between her and it. She couldn’t.

Nearly as soon as she’d thought it, Isaac came bursting through the door, unaware of her presence as he stalked to the boot room. He slammed that door shut and Y/n flinch at the sound.

Ten seconds later, Roy came out much more peacefully, but still with purpose.

Y/n stepped forward, her movements and her voice hesitant, “Hey-“

Roy could see the concern etched deeply in her face and touched her arm as he passed. “I got it.”

It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t scowling, wasn’t speaking like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. For him to speak softly, to voluntarily comfort someone, he had to have meant it.

Y/n stood frozen as he shut the door to the boot room, all the pieces of her reaction making sense suddenly. After Isaac had attacked the fan, her first thought hadn’t been about PR. It hadn’t been about the clean-up her and Keeley would have to do, the stress of it all. It hadn’t had anything to do with what the internet would think or the fans or anyone.

Her first thought was to wonder if Isaac was okay.

She knew by now she cared about AFC Richmond. She had a special affection for Rebecca and their weekly tea. Keeley had cracked her way past Y/n’s gates simply by being herself. Ted was the nicest slice of home she could have gotten.

This was different. This was caring so deeply for the team that she was standing in the hall, unmoving until she knew they were all alright.

It was no longer about letting them in, Y/n knew, it was about how deeply etched in her heart they were.

She waited, waited, the whole fifteen minutes, hearing only the muffled mumbles of the team’s conversation through the doors. When they cheered and exited the room, their spirits seemingly lifted, none of them even noticed her against the wall.

Y/n moved to stand outside the boot room, catching Colin and Trent as the last ones to exit the locker room. Trent threw her a small salute that she matched, before heading out to his own seat. She still wasn’t leaving until she knew all was well.

Eventually, Roy came out of the boot room with Isaac in tow. The disgraced captain glanced up at her as he passed, Y/n made a point to squeeze his arm. He didn’t flinch at her touch, but didn’t make a point of lingering as he headed to the locker room to wait the game out.

As Y/n inhaled, Roy nodded, “He’s alright.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The two of them walked back to their separate paths, Roy heading out to the pitch and Y/n heading back to the owner’s box.

The match turned around after that, tremendously so. The Greyhounds had hit the pitch united once more, particularly Colin, who’d assisted in both goals that had led them to victory. Balance seemed to have been restored, and while Isaac would still be the most memorable part of the game, Colin’s efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

And, as always, Y/n’s work began the moment the ref called it.

There were strict instructions from both Keeley and her to Higgins not to grab any of the players. They’d no doubt be asked about their captain’s actions and none of them needed to deal with that stress. Ted was the only one who could comfortably handle it.

They waited with Rebecca in the back of the room, Higgins and Trent joined them at the last minute.

“He’s on his way,” Higgins said.

“Thank you, Leslie,” Rebecca replied before turning to Keeley and Y/n, “You gave Ted some talking points?”

Keeley frowned, “No. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Not for a while,” Y/n added.

The side door opened before Rebecca could truly begin to worry. Where Ted should have strolled in, Roy did instead.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, punctuated by a gag from Higgins.

Roy took a seat at the desk, staring down the entire room. No one was wearing their surprise well.

“Yeah, alright, you got me today,” he growled, “Any questions?”

Every reporter’s hand went up, all of them shouting to get Roy’s attention.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled before pointing to one of them, “You. Five-o’-clock shadow head.”

Gary, self-proclaimed Jimmy Page fan, stood up. “Coach Kent, do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did today?”

“What a stupid fucking question,” Roy was quick to reply, Rebecca, Higgins and Y/n all screwing their eyes shut. “‘Course we don’t. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card.”

“Okay,” Gary relented, “So why’d he do it?”

Roy chuckled, looking like he was nearly about to say something before stopping himself. Instead of cursing or snarking, he settled back in his chair.

“When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team,” Roy began, “Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid. So during training one day, I made a joke that statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went fucking nuts. He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs…I couldn’t play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that,” Roy shook his head, “No club would go near him.”

“Then in the summer, after I could breathe again,” he went on, “I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid fucking joke. And he got to tell me he and his wife had lost the baby a month before all that went down. He hadn’t told anyone. Kept it all inside.”

The room had fallen hush, save for the occasional click of a camera.

“Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket,” Roy’s voice regained its strength, “They’ve got the right to yell whatever abusive shit they want at footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people. And none of us,” he dragged his finger across the room, “Know what is going on in each other’s lives.”

“So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong,” Roy pointed to his chest, “I give him love. And as for why he did what he did,” he leaned closer to the microphones, “That’s none of my fucking business.”

That was it. There was nothing left to say. Roy had handled it with more grace and patience than anyone could have expected.

Y/n smiled to herself, “Okay.”

“Next question,” he called to the room, which erupted back into shouts and flashes, “Yeah, new Trent.”

“Coach,” Marcus spoke up, “Let’s talk about Colin Hughes.”

“Yeah, he’s a hell of a player,” Roy answered, “And a great man. I think we’ve underused him.”

“I think you’re right,” Marcus said.

“Glad we agree,” Roy replied, “I prefer you to old Trent.”

The room laughed before Roy called on the next reporter. Rebecca and him shared a look of acknowledgement, this was making up for his ditching of the last presser.

Roy went on answering questions a few minutes longer before abruptly calling it. As everyone was saying their goodbyes for the evening, Y/n caught him in the hall.

“You did good,” she complimented.

Roy grunted a little, still bad at taking praise about anything other than his professional abilities. “Sorry if I…made your job harder the other day.”

She shrugged, “No more so than anyone else. You’re just more of a dick about it.”

Having said it with a smile Roy knew Y/n wasn’t serious…totally. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Night, Roy,” Y/n said, hitting his arm as she walked past him.

“Cheers,” he replied, heading his own way.

—————————

While the day was a victory, Jamie was exhausted. Some of the boys had gone out to celebrate, he was one of the ones who decided heading home was more appealing.

A ring of the doorbell dragged him off his couch and into the entryway. He opened the door, his chest both filling and draining at the sight.

Y/n was leant against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She held up a paper takeaway bag.

“I won’t tell Roy if you don’t,” she promised.

Jamie chuckled under his breath and moved to let her in.

It wasn’t just the match that’d worn Jamie out. Colin’s confession in the locker room was…heavy. Weighing most on Colin, of course, but when the celebratory noise had died down and Jamie was left to his own thoughts, he found they were louder than normal.

Y/n showing up only acted as an amplifier.

Here was Colin, hiding away one of the biggest parts of himself. Forced to keep the person he loved in the shadows for fear of the public’s reaction. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t be seen with them, couldn’t claim them. The person who meant everything to him.

And here was Jamie, with the woman he cared about most standing before him, feeling the weight of his privilege.

“Samir was working tonight,” Y/n announced as she slipped off her shoes, “He kept asking me if I was buying for us both. I think he slipped in some extra-“

She was cut off by Jamie, wrapping his arms around her in a full embrace.

Jamie wasn’t good with words. He was barely good with feelings. And expressing them was a whole other matter. What he did know to be true was that Y/n was the singular most important person in his life. Whether he’d realized it before or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly crushing him, he was overwhelmed by his affection for her. She was the best part of his worst times, the highlight of his days. The literal sunshine lighting up the darkest parts of him, the parts everyone else looked at and ran from. But not her, never her.

Y/n stumbled a bit, Jamie steadying her as he tugged her to his body. It wasn’t like they never hugged, but this felt different. The whole day had been so emotionally charged, she wasn’t surprised that he was feeling some of it. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the locker room between halves or after the game, but whatever it was had done something to him, and she apparently was the solution.

The truth was, Jamie was the first person Y/n hadn’t tired of being there for. She wanted to save him at every possible opportunity. To be there for him in whatever way he needed her. Lord knows he had done it enough for her. He’d looked at her ugliest parts and matched them, the two of them somehow growing together through their horrible histories. Some relationships were easily replaced, but there could never be another Jamie.

Y/n slid her arms around Jamie’s back, stealing some of the comfort for herself.

Jamie rested his chin on her shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting the moment wash over him. The world could stop, just for a moment, and it would be there when they broke apart. But for now, Y/n was all he wanted to feel.

They stayed in the hall, clinging to one another, having only unwrapped the first layer of what all they felt meant.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #rebecca welton x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

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aquagirl1978 · 11 days

Note

Hello, aqua! May I please have chevalier and "cupping his cheeks and calling him cute"? I want to see his reaction :)

Thanks!

Hi anon - thank you for this request. I am always happy to write my favorite

The Exchange

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Reader Prompt: cupping his cheeks and calling him cute Word count: 1071 Tags: fluff

It was just another day in the office of the foreign affairs faction – Chevalier was seated regally at his desk, quill in hand, while Nokto, who was seated nearby, was reviewing trade agreements. Clavis was off somewhere, presumably the garden with Cyran digging traps. Luke was likely napping in the gardens, a menagerie gathering on his sleeping body.

You had just returned after visiting Sariel’s office, arms ladened with papers the king needed to sign. Chevalier looked up, his gaze softening upon seeing you, his smile gentle as you approached his desk. His eyes never left yours as you placed the stack of papers on his desk, waiting for you to take your seat next to him at his desk.

You worked seamlessly as a pair, barely a word needed as you pointed with a fingertip where he needed to sign. He quickly scanned the documents placed before him, pleased with your diligence in reviewing them. He’d then silently pass the documents back to you, his gloved thumb barely grazing the back of your hand.

“King Highness, the Jadean delegation will be here in a few days. Prince Keith will be arriving with them.”

“I’m aware,” Chevalier replied, his gaze fixed on the paperwork before him. Nokto sauntered over, winking at you as he leaned against his brother’s desk.

“Then you know they will be looking for…”

“Yes, I know,” he said with a sigh, setting down his quill. His eyes flicked up, blue meeting red. “If they want me to entertain their demands…” he added with a wicked smirk.

“How’s three?” Nokto asked with a tilt of his head.

For all his frivolity, Nokto was quite adept not only at his job but handling Chevalier. While the king of Rhodolite was notoriously stubborn, known for not doing a single thing he didn’t want to, it was a poorly kept secret that he could be bribed – with books – to do those things he didn’t particularly want to do.

You watched your love, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.

“Four,” he replied, his gaze averted. “They still owe me one from the last time Prince Keith was here.”

*******

A few days later….

It was already dark when there was a knock at the door to the office. You glanced at Chevalier, the only other person in the room with you, wondering who it could be at this hour.

Rising from your seat, you walked around the desk and opened the heavy door. “Prince Keith, what a pleasant surprise,” you greeted, inviting him to enter.

The tall man bowed his head. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” Keith said, “but I just ran into Prince Nokto who reminded me of something.”

“Yes?” Chevalier asked, resting his chin in his hand.

Keith approached his desk, his long legs swiftly taking him there; the moment Chevalier saw the books Keith was carrying, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze lingered on the treasure Keith was holding.

Leaning against the wall, you quietly observed Chevalier, your gaze never leaving his.

“On behalf of Jade, I’d like to request an audience with Your Majesty…” Keith stood tall before the king, a slight tremor in his hands as he gently held the books.

Chevalier waved a hand, his gaze fixed on the leather-bound volumes cradled in Keith’s hands.

“There’s five,” the king said softly.

“My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. I brought an extra since I was so delinquent in getting you that book you requested on my last visit here. I am so sorry,” Keith replied. “May I?” he asked, seeking permission to place the books on the desk. Chevalier nodded, his gaze still on the books. “This one,” Keith said, proudly pointing to the book on top, “was recommended to me by my friend, Maeve. I hope you like it as much as we did.”

Chevalier steepled his fingers, silent in thought. “The others, they’re all by the same author.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sonia is my friend, she is quite the popular author in Jade and I thought –.”

“Your friend?” Chevalier interrupted, eyes widening.

“Yes, I feel like I’ve known Sonia forever. She’s always wanted to visit Rhodolite. If she ever does get to travel here, I could arrange for you to meet her.” Keith stopped, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m being far too presumptive…”

“I’d like that,” Chevalier said simply. “I’ll meet with you and your delegation tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Keith mumbled while bowing his head, somewhat stunned things worked out as easily as Nokto had told him. “Thank you again for your graciousness.” Keith, head still bowed, bumped into a chair behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the chair before escorting himself from the office.

As soon as the door closed, and with a bright smile, you made your way over to Chevalier’s desk. You didn’t wait to be invited; you took it upon yourself to sit on the king’s lap. Cupping his cheeks, you tilted his face towards yours.

“You’re so cute when you get excited. Like when you see books.”

Chevalier scoffed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I get excited with you.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth. “That’s not the same,” you said softly, slowly stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “ It’s different when you see new books. Your eyes sparkle and your face lights up like a child on Christmas morning.”

“It’s a rare joy I don’t often see you express,” you continued, tracing his lips with your fingertip, “but one that I carve into my heart every time I bear witness to it.”

“Are you done yet?” he asked with a laugh. The corners of his lips twitched, curling into a smile, while his gaze drifted towards the pile of books lying on his desk. Your hands fell from his face and settled on his shoulders, his quickened pulse easily felt by your fingertips grazing his neck.

Leaning closer, you tilted your face so you could whisper into his ear. “I know you’re itching to read those books. Let’s retire to your room.”

Your words – or perhaps it was your warm breath on his skin – caught his attention. He wrapped a clumsy hand in your hair, pulling you close for a kiss.

“After I’ve had my fill of my books,” he whispered between kisses, “I’m devouring you next.”

His ice blue eyes warming as he gazed into your eyes.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @keithsandwich @lunaaka

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen

@nightghoul381 @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra

@melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

@portrait-ninja @sh0jun @ikesenwritings @kalims-pessimist-bestie

#naughty or nice #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome fanfic #otome game

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midgardian-witch · 11 months

Note

i saw you made a moon knight fic based off an ethel cain song, and i was wondering if you could make one based off her song michelle pfeiffer idk it just screams moon boys to me 😻🫶🏽🫶🏽 i’m so sorry for bothering you with this i just HADDD to ask

have a lovely day and don’t overwork yourself 🫶🏽

You are absolutely not bothering me with this! Thank you so much for your kind message and your request 💙 I really hope you like this drabble and that you're having a lovely day yourself ☺️

Home's Not Home Unless You're There

ships: Moon Knight System/Reader

AO3

Marc was the one that started it all.

One morning you woke up and he was gone; bags packed, wardrobe and bookshelves cleaned out. He even took his toothbrush with him. He had left you with only the memories of your time together, nothing else.

He took one last look at your half-naked, sleeping form and then left. He turned into a ghost, laying low, not moving too far away but always just out of reach. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this after all.

It was for the best - or so he told himself.

Marc knew that if he would have stuck around longer, he would drag you both down (and with his luck ‘down’ meant 6 feet under). He didn’t deserve you. Everything he touched turned to ash and he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you too.

He couldn’t hurt you if he was gone.

So what if he spends endless nights alone, drowning his sorrows in booze (just like his mother; she’d laugh at him, tell him what a pathetic, selfish boy he was - if she was still alive) and thinks about all the different ways he could crawl back to you?

He won’t. He can’t. If he did all of this was for nothing.

In that space between tipsy and blackout drunk he wonders if maybe he is addicted to suffering. If it was just another fucked up part of his brain that needed to feel pain to live, or maybe it was his heart? Why else does he keep running away?

When those thoughts start he just cracks open another bottle.

Steven was the one that suffered the loudest.

When he woke up in the morning, having to deal with another of Marc's hangovers, he felt like crying.

He missed you. Everything around him reminded him of you and your absence in his life.

Marc got them a new flat and even here Steven saw you in everything; everything conjuring a memory of you together. They lived here now but it wasn’t their home. It could never be their home if you're not there with them.

He wants to call you but Marc deleted your number. He wants to go and see you, apologize for what happened and fall back into your arms but everytime he tries he blacks out, loses time again and finds himself back at their new flat. He wants to scream at Marc, beg and reason with him, make him see that this was all a mistake, that they need you in their life but everytime Marc hides in the darkest corners of their headspace.

He feels more lost than he did when he first found out about Marc and Jake. He feels alone, so utterly alone even when Jake tries to reassure him that they will be alright, that things will get better.

Without you there he doesn’t believe any of it.

Jake was the one to end it.

Jake had been patient. He waited for Marc to see reason but instead he watched his brother hurt himself more and more until all that was left was a heartbroken, sad shell of a man. He watched Steven rage against Marc’s decisions until he couldn’t anymore, until even he was a burned out husk of his former self.

He was their protector and he had been idle for too long.

And he missed you. Even inside the headspace all he could think about was the sound of your voice, of your laugh, the feeling of your skin and lips on his, the way you smell in the morning after a long night of lovemaking.

Did you think about them too? Did you hate them? Did you miss them the same way they missed you?

He was tired of wondering, tired of watching his brothers fall apart when there was a simple solution to their suffering.

So when his brothers were sound asleep Jake took over. With a clear goal in mind he got into his car and made his way to you. He drove like a man possessed until he reached the familiar building. It was late, the sun had already fled the sky hours ago. For a moment he worried he would wake you, or worse, that you would not be there. To his relief there was light in your window.

An old neighbor let him into the building, recognizing his face. He thanked them with a smile before continuing on his path. When he finally reached the door to your flat, his hands were shaking - all his calm gone just by the thought of seeing you again.

Before he can overthink his plan he knocks on the door. He can hear your footsteps, and even something so trivial is making his heart ache. But nothing prepared him for the way his heart stops beating for a second when he sees you again as you open the door.

You look like you hadn’t slept in weeks, like you had been crying every day since they had left - and yet you had never looked more beautiful.

Your eyes widen in shock and disbelief. He takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I am so sorry, mi vida. We are sorry. Can you forgive us?”

He can’t hear your reply, muffled as it is as you all but tackle him with your embrace, your face buried in his shirt. Your fists pound against his chest with no energy behind them. You’re angry, frustrated, but most of all relieved.

They are back. And they won’t leave again.

The four of you had a lot to talk about: worries, feelings, fears. There are so many questions unanswered but that was for later.

All he knows is this: You will get through this; you’ll survive whatever comes together. Because they are finally home now.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight system x reader #moon knight/reader #marc spector/reader #steven grant/reader #jake lockley/reader #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #fran-writes

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hwaightme · 1 year

Text

Bang bang

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚫ pairing: gangster/mafia!seonghwa x stripper/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut, mafia!au, noir, ganster film style, bits of angst ⚫ summary: Bang bang, he shot me down / Bang bang, I hit the ground / Bang bang, that awful sound / Bang bang, my baby shot me down... the words never sounded truer as you hunt for the man who made you fall from grace. ⚫ wordcount: 14.6k ⚫ warnings/tags: barely edited (written in a chaotic flurry), gangsters, murder, guns, blood, attacking, language, strip club, slight objectification, rudeness, bickering and arguing, emotional manipulation, revenge, death [of a side oc], yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, alcohol, money, seonghwa driving expensive cars, betrayal mention... lmk if anything else. ⚫ perma-taglist: @legohwas @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 ⚫ a/n: HAPPY SEONGHWA DAY!!!! May our brightest star be blessed with everything and more <3 (and never venture into what this fic contains lol); much love and appreciation to nora for going unchained over mafia hwa, and for supporting me through the blackout that was the writing process for this fic. Much love, all reblogs, comments, thoughts welcome~

⚫ nsfw tags: hate sex, car sex, fingering (receiving), sub-leaning reader but a hardcore brat, dom-leaning seonghwa but he enjoys the degradation, degradation (whore, slut, cock slut...), pet names and praises (doll, precious angel, darling, baby, sweetheart), a bit of impact play (slapping), orgasm denial, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), blowjob, deepthroating, hair tugging/yanking, manhandling, grinding, spit play, come in mouth/swallowing... whew

⚫ playlist: bang bang (from kill bill) by geek music, showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer, you put a spell on me by austin giorgio, i've got to see you again by norah jones, who do you want by ex habit, woman by emmit fenn, bad drugs by king kavalier, often by the weeknd, chills (dark version) by mickey valen

Bang bang… he shot me down…

You had given up on seeing him again. Searching for him, hellbent on getting the last word. You had been confident that finally, after all this time, your tortured soul could get some rest. That was until your eyes locked with his in a silent duel, that shit-eating grin on his face growing wider as he studied the wounds he had left behind. The invisible scars that were the start of your metamorphosis.

It was not that you had never imagined meeting the fiendish man again – in fact, you swore that it was your only relief: to fantasise about what you would do if you were to physically cross paths somewhere in this forlorn city, and many nights you would wake up in cold sweat after hearing the intoxicating low-toned laughter resonate in your skull. He haunted you and you knew that he was watching your every move like a sadistic predator. As such, the only thing that had driven you out of your madness, the flimsy umbrella that you clung onto amidst your fall from the life you had built and hoped to have, was to wish that one day, you could do the same. And seeing him right there, in front of you, in his tailored suit and jewellery bathed in blood as the spotlights made him look like the devil himself, the notion of hoping returned.

When a strobe light flashed across his faced you saw him lean and whisper something into the ear of one of his goons, evidently excited to having spotted you. After the ever so slightly shorter, but impressively built, undoubtedly a dark-souled man armed to the teeth, surely his bodyguard, nodded a couple of times, and in turn called over one of the waiters to continue the chain only for the latter to shrink and rush off into the backrooms, your nightmare ambled towards the bar. With a quick unbuttoning of his suit jacket, he settled in one of the stools and spun around to face the stage. To face you. Subject you to a mocking scrutiny while you had no choice but to continue dancing.

As he mindlessly took a black card out of his pocket and passed it to the bartender, without sparing a glance behind him, the object pinched between his pointer and middle fingers, you were in your lonesome on the stage, fighting an uphill battle for every coin and paper bill. Spinning in circles like an animal trapped in a cage, clinging to the pole as though it was a thread connecting you to existence itself, even though experience had shown you that in this, you were skilled only in going down. That man who made living seem easy, despite, or perhaps thanks to the darkness from which he was undoubtedly spawned. Your first love, your first heartbreak, your first glimpse into how the world could chew you up and spit you out – life that was a forbidden fruit so beautiful, so tantalising to where through atrocious flavour and agony one would bite through to the rotten centre and willingly lose their senses to keep a piece to themselves.

His eyes tirelessly accompanied your every move as you went through your routine. Grinding against the pole, crawling across the stage as onlookers and perverts – those who you had to call revered guests because they could spend, and spend a lot, ogled you and yelled heinous remarks, you had not felt so humiliated in a long time. The transition to your present career had been a follow up to a series of events that had shut all other doors – you considered yourself lucky that you had even had the chance to catch yourself on these professional branches during your painful descent. And you had to admit, it did pay well. In a couple of months, after you had definitely breached all work hour regulations, you had managed to pay off your fines and numb yourself to your revoked medical licence. Things were looking up, like the heels you wore. Not quite sky-high, but nevertheless, not in the sewers. But now that being sat at the bar, devouring you with his smouldering gaze and using you for cheap amusement, made you feel filthy. With his pristine, clean, supreme ‘I am above you all’ aura, he might as well state that he owned you. Maybe, in a way, he did. Since his ‘company’, or as one would say ‘bunch of organised hoodlums in suits’ behind closed doors, owned this club among many others dotted around the metropolis.

You climbed up, approaching the finale of your performance. Soon you would be able to leave that creature’s gaze and hide in the rank bathrooms until the coast was clear. Even if that meant you had to abandon the bills. Or no, no you would have the time. You had rent to pay, what were you thinking? And you still needed to return the money you borrowed for the funeral, despite you being told that your now ex could be left to rot just fine. The act was more for you anyways – you wanted to prove to yourself that you still knew honour and tradition, regardless of how far you had been swept up by the unforgiving currents of the underworld. So now, to pay for your illusion of honour, you put on a show and flaunted what you had, fuelled by an undercurrent of indescribable disgust.

To the numbing bassline and an addictive beat you went higher and higher, letting the sensuality envelop you once more. If the months that stacked themselves like cash had taught you anything, this passage of time that you had spent nomadic, performing in one club, another, until you ended up in the one where you were now centre stage, it was that professionalism came first. You were surprised to find out just how many of your academic and practical skills had actually been put to good use – well, maybe not things like knowing components of the limbic system but having a steady hand and being able to manoeuvre out of uncomfortable situations in a cool and calculated manner certainly did their wonders. As you performed a high kick hold, and let your toes discreetly push off the ground for more momentum, you were already thinking a couple of steps ahead. The fairy, the floaters transition, you mentally listed and promptly ticked off the items, going from one move to another. It was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to convince those ogling you, some even unceremoniously palming themselves through their trousers, to give you their ‘hard earned cash’. Though, you never wanted to know where exactly that cash came from. It was not your problem, and you were quick enough to realise that it was better to keep your mouth shut and ask less questions. What these men wanted to see was a pretty doll spinning on a pole as if just for them, a fantasy just a couple of steps away from them. Not some amateur interrogator.

His figure burned into your retinas as you amplified your dramatics, and stole the night for yourself with flair, flipping yourself upside down, only to recover and descend into your final pose. Due to the sweat and the light body highlighter that you had applied to make your features pop, you were an impossibly entrancing vision. A deity of the underworld that just so happened to find it entertaining to grace the local scum with her presence.

The handsome black-haired man, an enticing, lethal ‘bella donna’ flower continued watching the forbidden apple of his eye. He had finally gotten you within his reach after so many months of playing cat and mouse. You were unbelievably easy to track, never having attempted to hide yourself, but for him to restrain himself for so long and not hunt you down at first opportunity was borderline torturous. Park Seonghwa was never one to wait. If he wanted something, or someone, he got it instantly, handed to him on a platinum platter. But your hatred was like an addictive scent that brought him to an unprecedented high. Each time he had news delivered of you discreetly asking after him at a club, or you trying to frequent an area where he had been spotted, evidently on a mission to do exactly what he was doing to you, it brought Seonghwa an excitement that shook him to the core.

But now that you were here, in his lair, his first club that he had opened, still a junior in the business at the time and coincidentally, still having been in what could be called a relationship with you, he could not resist. His mind had been screaming Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, every hour of the day, and his primal desires grew stronger than ever before. As he inspected the way in which you bent down to take bills from eager hands, coy and purposefully demure so as to attract even more tips, sinful musings clouded him. He could not ignore the curve of your back as you tapped another fowl man’s chin and took what was definitely over his budget right out of his beggarly hands. Seonghwa was tense as he focused on the white dancewear that adorned your body, elegant lace providing a dizzying contrast to the lewd scene as you let another imp paw at your ass as he hooked the waistband of your thong to leave more crisp notes.

The act of a sensational seductress, you practically glided off the stage, the platform heels doing little to diminish your resolve. You were even better than what he could have ever imagined from the stories that his closest allies and bodyguards had relayed to him. And while, San, the man who he had entrusted with observing you particularly closely once news had gotten around that you joined Club Estelle, had expressed your resounding success and renowned desirability on a number of occasions, now that Seonghwa had seen it he was nothing but proud. His masterpiece, his project, his precious little cherub was doing so well. All for him. How could he not grace you with his presence after seeing such a show?

You knew there was no way of escaping the monster, even if you had the ability to turn invisible, so you were not too surprised when you had found the man who had been next to him for the duration of the performance standing in front of you. What you were taken aback by, was how in just a flash, the man’s intimidating aura dissipated to reveal a charming, heart melting smile and twinkling eyes.

“Miss L/N Y/N?” voice equally as sweet, he inquired. Though you had no doubt that his was just airs preceding the request for you to accompany him to his boss.

“Yes. And you are?” remaining amiable, albeit distant, you responded, crossing your arms in a subconsciously protective manner.

“Merely delivering the request for your audience with my chief.”

You motioned for him to accompany you to the back, signalling that you needed to store the cash before any further discussions were made. The sweetheart obliged, and let you take the lead. In your peripherals, you spotted Seonghwa gripping his drink a little too tightly to be indifferent. As questionably possessive as ever, it seemed. Once you and the muscular bodyguard who you discovered was wearing a double holder were behind the curtain that served as a door to a dark corridor, you continued the conversation.

“A request or an order?”

Absent-mindedly, you checked the quantity of the bills which you had collected - the rest were already waiting for you in the room, courtesy of the waitstaff whom you had actually managed to make something of a deal with: you did not tell anyone about their habit of permanently borrowing beverages from the bar, and they did small errands for you. Maybe this man with cat-like features was in a similar agreement with Seonghwa, though the likelihood of there being blood involved was too high.

“A request that I would definitely advise you to follow.” he insisted, holding open the door to the changing room as you inspected the bucket that had been left for you in the corner, with neatly collected, crisp notes. Your favourite sight as of late.

“If you answer my question.” you threw out while organising the money inside of a sports bag - the storage of your professional life. Once you were done, you shoved the item into your personal locker, sealing it shut and spinning around to face the man again as he beckoned you.

“Kindly, follow me, Miss.”

“Who am I following?” you repeated, desperately curious to know of this man’s identity. Nevertheless, your feet carried you forward, and you yielded to his summons, heading back out into the club.

“Mister Park Seonghwa’s man.”

“Ooh, his man…”

“Right hand man.” he elaborated, making you roll your eyes.

“So no name to pair with such a handsome face?”

The answers were almost automatic. It was not foreign to you to flirt with strangers, since that way you amplified your chances of financial success, but never before did you catch yourself being so passive, even when the intonations were well practised and near identical to what you would normally say. But there was no one, nor nothing, to blame except the hardwired response to the nearing figure of a very specific gangster, on whom your gaze immediately settled as soon as you reached the edge of the prolonged bar counter.

“I believe that Mister Park would not enjoy hearing such words from you.” of course he would not. When did he ever enjoy you complimenting anyone else except him? San steeled himself as he lowered his head, while you let the fingers of your right hand flitter over the counter as you sauntered over to the man who could not even be bothered to approach you himself, despite having evaporated from your life for an unbearable collection of months.

“Then he would not have sent you to fetch me. He should know that I appreciate beauty-” you were testing your luck, uttering the words when within the gangster’s earshot. Thankfully for San, he chose to take the matter into his own hands and, setting aside the glass of cognac with a delicate push, addressed his bodyguard.

“Sannie, is Y/N giving you a tough time?”

Your name sounded precious, meaningful when he said it. Like it had a genuine purpose in this mortal realm. A melodic uttering of simple sounds that drowned out the pulsing beat that zombified the visitors of Club Estelle. Whether that music was on or not made no difference to you - either way, you would only hear Seonghwa. His voice was like a rumbling of an oncoming thunderstorm amidst a nighttime quiet. The rolling growls of heaven’s rage as steel grey clouds stalked across the sky, wrapping the defenceless earth in a catastrophic promise. With nothing but a foggy trepidation in your chest, you slid onto the seat that was to your nightmare’s right, turning to have your back to the bar and rest your elbows behind you on the elevated table.

“Uh, not at all, sir.” San’s shift in mien was comical. In a flash, he had stepped down from the pedestal of a man who made the demands, to a servant who you struggled to imagine acting a step out of the lines that his boss had drawn out for him. You raised an eyebrow, giving the guard a onceover.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, darling. San. Like a mountain. Isn’t it cute?” Seonghwa interjected again, not letting the man who you were addressing as much as regard you. Apparently, being under his command also meant that you were instantly off limits. How dull.

“Interesting word choice…”

“He is a cutie, though, aren’t you, Sannie?” smirk gracing his lips, Seonghwa teased the cutie, who, judging by the sheer broadness of his shoulders, could probably snap a person in half with his bare hands. Not that the person would complain since the last thing they would see would be that pretty face… but that was besides the point. No one in the mafia was soft and fluffy. And if there had ever been, they had not survived long enough to establish themselves as the sole representative in history.

“No comment.”

“See? How fucking adorable,” with an icy tone, Seonghwa concluded. “Now, could you give us some time to speak tête-à-tête?”

“Of course.”

As rapidly as his appearance had been, so was his departure into the lingering crowd. A newbie - even more new to the business than you, was beginning her performance, and had caught the attention of a couple of the regular patrons, and the lewd chatter had picked up considerably. It was apparent, however, that it was not enough to capture the interest of the man in front of you, who shifted his seating to face in your direction, and officially broke open the door into your life once again. Not because you had been tirelessly searching for him. But because he found it beneficial for himself to make himself known to you.

“Greetings and salutations, Y/N, it’s been a while. We have much to catch up on, don’t you think?” you blinked slowly, suppressing a rude scoff. People were still watching you, that much you were aware of. Those were the perks, or the faults with wearing stripper dancewear. You were the fixation of lustful eyes, the cool glass of water that was just out of reach for the hoards of parched scum.

“I have nothing to say to you, Seonghwa.”

“Ah how I missed you saying my name.”

“And I’d rather you keep mine out of your mouth.” a total lie, had you considered your instincts and how your legs had instinctively tilted closer to the brunette, but you were not about to throw away months of fantasising the man’s demise at the first interaction. You had at least some restraint left.

“Only if you can silence me. I know a couple of ways.” he winked, but you pretended not to catch it as you stared down at his hand that was lying on the counter, studying the ornate decal on the fingerless leather glove.

Taking notice of your preoccupation, he tapped his fingers on the surface, making the silver studs that ran down each digit and surrounded the opening on the back of the hand shine in the glimmering lights. You counted the holes that revealed his knuckles, for no reason other than to try shifting focus. You were not opposed to this kind of interaction. Gestures. Hints. Symbols. It was a horrifying craving that started in the abyss that Seonghwa had left in your tarnished soul, an affliction caused and amplified even by the most mundane details. You could feel those same fingers wrapping themselves around your neck, tracing your jawline, making a ghostly descent down your body. A shiver ran down your spine as you tore yourself away from the sight that had turned into a sinful recollection, forcing out a jarring taunt to convince yourself that there were no undertones to Seonghwa’s phrase.

“With a gun?”

He was not buying it. His precious flower, barely dressed and yet graceful to the extent of rivalling divinity, squirming from his mere presence. This was what he had been searching for, all this time that he had denied you contact. You had been a bad girl. Running, thinking you were pure and angelic. He did not want you that way, so he took his time winding you up, making your world collapse so that you would be ready to take the real him. Not the foolish goon that he had been before. You had been so sweet, doting on him and showing him off to your friends. But what he yearned for was the animalistic antagonisation of his very being. The fire in your heart that drove you to a vengeful insanity. Seonghwa’s tongue pushed at the corner of his mouth before running over his bottom lip, disappearing to give way to a smug grin as he noticed your eyes dart to the action. He comprehended your capabilities properly. More than any of those quacks who you had looked up to ever could. Your demons were loud, and yet you had gone to great lengths to suppress them, even when you were the most beautiful like this. The mortal embodiment of Discordia. Truly, the one deity he would worship. The only one who he would continue sacrificing for.

“Ah, that reminds me. Heard about your boyfriend, such a shame really. He was so young…” he pondered out loud, not a single bit apologetic.

“That’s rich coming from the man who put a bullet between his eyes.” you hissed, crossing your arms as a man walked past and openly gawked at your breasts.

Though that quickly resulted in a not so subtle threat, with Seonghwa leaning back to adjust his jacket, only to reveal the grip of a menacing handgun, tucked away into a leather holster. The visitor, who had purposely slowed his pace, bolted from the spot, giving the gangster one final look before rushing to the other side of the club. As if looking for your praise, or approval, Seonghwa hid the gun from sight once again and gazed at you, softer and more affectionate than before, his eyes transforming to take on more of a doe shape and inducing an uncomfortable pain. When you did not satisfy him, he clicked his tongue and ran his hands over his hair, shorter at the sides and revealing a buzzcut design that had begun to fade with growth. The new style suited him, you decided. Almost too well. It was frustrating.

“Ah, ah, no. Not me. My hands are clean, sweetheart.” he raised them, a hilarious attempt at trying to prove his innocence which you chose to ignore. No matter how obsessively he washed his acts away, blood was more than a rusty red liquid. It was a curse that stained the skin of those who wished to draw it with an eternal permanence, passing from generation to generation until the Earth was saturated with the hue. Ignoring the blatant bullshit, you mused the fate of the man who you had used to fill the void.

“What the fuck did he even do to you guys?”

“Oh you know how it is. Got a taste of success, got a little too greedy… and kaput. Didn’t keep a clean inventory and clean percentages, you see. And I don’t like when things aren’t clean.” you did not have to be brought into the matter any further than that. You certainly did not need to be let in on the fact that your ex was actually one of the best dealers in his district. He was just a little too close to you for Seonghwa’s comfort.

“Sure you don’t. You said the word, what, four times already? That’s why you even launder your money…” you muttered, not noticing how Seonghwa’s elbow slid closer to you until his hand began to play with a lock of your hair.

“Ah, so attentive, counting what I say…” twirling it around his finger, he observed how the myriad of colour from the club’s lights managed to change its shine, and let it fall back into an alluring cascade, “... and not only that, we also do pest control. The last thing we need is lowly vermin poisoning our supply chains and ruining user experience for our end clients, right?”

“I still don’t-”

“Funny how you got involved with him. Of all people. A drug dealer.” it was easy to make you shift focus. One mention of your failed career, and you were gone. So, in a dire situation such as this, Seonghwa would be a fool not to use this fact.

“Guess he was the only one there to actually support me in the shitstorm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Now, now, no need to thank me, darling, when I did nothing-”

“I was blacklisted, Seonghwa. Do you know what that means?” slamming the counter with your hand, you stood up off the stool and glowered. Oh, how adorable it was when you got so riled up. A darkness flashed across his eyes as he imagined you to be a tiny predator, ready to pounce. How endearing.

“I can try to guess, though something tells me you will provide more details.” he egged you on, enthralled by how you tried to hover over him, but still retained his favourite fragility.

“It means my dreams have gone up a rat’s ass. I wanted to be a nurse, Seonghwa. And yet, as soon as I get to work, the next day after helping you and your stupid goons, I get kicked out and sued.” The only downside that he could see was that he would not be able to have his way with you were all professional and in a dainty nurse’s outfit. Though… he would have had to make some adjustments to the scrubs for that. A few rips here and there would not hurt anybody.

“It really was only basic supplies that you permanently borrowed, and for the greater good at that. I still think the hospital over-exaggerated.” you had been more than benevolent. Overlooking status, background and appearance you had dashed to lend a hand. Seonghwa had counted on you to do that so that he could drag you down closer to himself.

“In the eyes of the law, I am a thief who has gotten away with far too light a punishment.”

“And I see a saviour.” a merciful fucktoy who he had initially simply been playing around with, only to discover that you were so pathetically trusting that he could not help but fall in love.

“Poetic.” you responded sarcastically, raising your eyebrows. Seonghwa was bearing witness to the dissolution of your resistance. As much as you wished you could keep the game up, his charming falsities and unforgivable seduction were a delight that you could not withstand.

“You know one of those ‘stupid goons’ celebrated his wedding anniversary with his wife two months ago? And then the other sent his daughter to primary school not long ago… Like I said, you made a sacrifice that those bureaucratic little shits, hidden away in offices, would never make. You care for people.”

His hands snaked to your hips, and he pulled you closer to him until you were trapped with his legs on either side of you. Even though physically you were the one looking down, every passing second you felt more and more like a lab experiment or a sample under a microscope. He was dissecting you, tearing you apart and rebuilding you once again so that you would be just right. Just for him. His favourite doll.

“Seems I care for the wrong people.” you alluded to the man in front of you, a shallow, staggered breath escaping you as he gripped a little tighter.

“Do you regret it?” his eyes. Two dark pools which housed your tailored terror, but had to be so lovable. The devil always took on the most beautiful form.

Your silence told him everything he needed to hear. You could have pushed him away, slapped him across the cheek. Hell, you could have told San to get lost - though in that case you would have probably been disposed of and continued your existence as an addition to a faraway landfill. But that was besides the point. Because you were not indifferent. And the boundary between love and hatred was nearly invisible.

“So happy to have you here. At last.” just as he was about to bring you into an embrace, drunk from the elation of your first meeting in what had to have been an eternity, you pressed down on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding the stark white collar of his shirt that was laid over his jacket, and pushed away, hostility written over your features.

“That’s why I bet you are proud of having sold me out.”

“Who said that?” confused, Seonghwa inquired.

“I just know it.”

“And I am asking, who told you that I sold you out?” stuck in what could only be equated to a tug of war, the two of you were challenging each other to ‘try their worst’.

“My e-”

“The druggie. Right. Of course he did. I bet he told you a lot of things.”

“Like how you used me…”

“Uh-huh,” his hands glided up your body until he stood up, and your arms were limp at your sides once more.

“Corrupted me…”

“My love, you’re still an angel,” he cupped your chin and gazed deep into your eyes, noting that it was as if you were reciting something that you had practised time and time again in front of a mirror until it made no more sense to you than white noise.

“Then betrayed me…”

“Something I would not do under any circumstance. You know what family honour is.” Seonghwa did not betray. He acted in ways that benefited him. And if it just so happened to leave others hurt, it was their fault for caring so much.

“Family. What the hell do you know about family?” you were seething. He was burning you. Again, and again, and again. And you were readily giving in every single time.

“Certainly more than you. Oh sweetheart, I know how lonely you have been-” he wanted to comfort you, even if that made him nauseous, but thankfully, you were not in the mood and stepped away, making him let go of you.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I only want to-”

“I said. Don’t. Seonghwa. Look. I- I hate you. Okay?” music to his ears. How you desperately tried to get away from him and from your own feelings. Scared little pet.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” the phrase echoed within you as you took another step backwards, realising too late that you had let him wrap himself around you like a hungry python. You needed out. This was it. Final. You needed some air. Or better, to return home, climb into bed, and pretend this never happened. Future you could handle this problem, present you was irrational, risk-seeking and a harm to the self.

“N-no. I. I need to go.”

“You know you can’t.” Seonghwa whispered out loud as he watched your determined departure, right up until you were behind that heavy velvet curtain.

He picked up his glass and studied the clear, russet contents, and let the liquid slosh around to take in the aroma. With a quick sip, he was back to his usual self, and the smile that was on his face was instantly erased. Bored, the dangerous man leaned against the counter with the weight of his body, imitating your earlier posture and commanded:

“San, I know you’re lurking, come here.” Indeed, in a matter of seconds, his bodyguard appeared from behind one of the pillars that was located closer to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?”

“You see that man over there?” raising his glass, Seonghwa pointed in the direction of one of the very dedicated hounds who was by the stage. He had been particularly involved in your act, and from the moment Seonghwa had first noticed him, to the very last moment that you were up there, the tipsy man had probably dropped at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cash. He was the perfect candidate for the gangster’s plan.

“The one in the green hoodie?”

“Yes, that sleazy bastard. How about we cast him as the bad guy, huh? Payment upfront.” San nodded. The method was simple, and had shown tremendous success in the past. He hummed in agreement, waiting for Seonghwa to add his usual:

“Temporarily, of course. All in good fun.”

“Understood. What should I lay over?”

“That a certain Y/N is particularly ravishing after her performances, and will be at the back exit in about twenty minutes.”

Bang bang, I hit the ground…

Maybe what that gangster had said was true, and that you were too good for the ‘overworld’. It was an attractive thought. Perhaps after the doors to the medical field and consequently a wide range of other careers you had considered had been shut, due to your newfound, albeit light, but nevertheless a serious enough criminal record, you ended up simply tapping into your true nature as a creature of the underworld. While out there, you had always been average, here you were a saviour. A goddess. A queen. Maybe you indeed were celebrated and had gifts thrown at your feet exactly because you deserved nothing less. The chasm that was the dark side of the corrupt city might be your true home, and you had simply been in denial, running away from it.

How easy it was to fall back into your patterns. As you sank into Seonghwa’s eyes, you recollected your time with him. The attentiveness that he had shown you. The way in which he would patiently listen to you explain obscure medical terminology, convincing you that, to him and him alone, it was interesting. You had felt blessed then. And that was exactly why you wanted to erase him. As you strutted down the corridor that ran behind the main hall of the club, leading you to the back rooms that were for staff and artists only, you shook your head. Wishful that this would help you get rid of the reminiscing of the last ‘easy’ time of your life. Before you revealed to yourself that you would commit a crime in the name of love. Even when that love was merely an illusion. Confused by your own feelings, still seeing a glowing red target over Seonghwa’s evil heart while making out golden glimmers on its surface, you stormed into the changing room and let out a sigh of relief as you saw it completely empty. You could meditate on your frightening conversation with the devil himself.

There was something therapeutic about the wind down from your performances, if you were to forget about the side eyes you were being thrown after having been caught talking to the owner of the establishment, and according to some of the whispers, a very desired man. How they could overlook the fact that he was more cold blooded than a snake when it came to satisfying their need for a happy and tranquil life amazed you. With the thumping of the music feeling so far away that you were practically enveloped in a sea of cotton, and the lights emitting a more familiar fluorescence, like a late night grocery store rather than the strobes, sickly colour selections and kaleidoscopic reflections, the changing room was a sort of safe space. You were trying to stuff the bills that you had collected, and the chunky stripper heels into a nondescript sports bag, after having covered yourself up with something more appropriate for a ‘so late it could be considered early’ trek back home.

You needed time to yourself before you were going to black out and make some foolish decisions concerning that conniving man. It was a curse, without a doubt. Not dissimilar to the very drugs you had smuggled, he was hard to quit. And you hated him for it. At least this was what you had been openly declaring, and were not going to give up on. If anything, this was your new habit. Imagining revenge on Park Seonghwa. You were going to get it. Eventually. You still had some hope left in you, even though your feet were currently struggling to hold you up, even in your sneakers, a hint of a fire in your chest as your memories of the man were refreshed. Did he have to look more handsome than before? More refined? More demonic?

When you had met him during a night out with your friends at a bar in the classier side of town, Seonghwa had introduced himself as an ‘intern’, which you now understood as one of the lower ranking goons who did the dirty work. Now, he was all white shirt and spotless sleeves, smooth skin and perfectly manicured hands, only a breath away from being a model rather than a hardened and ruthless criminal. Perhaps it was this contrast that had resulted in the man having cemented the nickname ‘Mars’ for himself, as you had found out from a few tipsy insiders who would do anything for a private show. The god of war, destruction, bloodshed, all in the name of an interpretation of peace and prosperity. The dangerous balance on the tip of a razor, by which you had undoubtedly been slaughtered.

He was a mastermind, a monstrosity in a beautiful guise as he ran, alongside the uppermost echelons of the mafia that effectively had the city, and at this point you would not put it beyond them - the country in a chokehold, the numerous operations that kept the underworld’s heart pumping. An inky fluid, viscous and bitter, one which you had accepted in a pretty glass of so-called love without thinking twice. Seonghwa knew how to make you happy. And the longer that went on, the more of a problem that became. He knew just how to spin thread out of you, how to wrap you again, and again around his finger until you were nothing more than one of the rings that he would occasionally wear to complete his outfits. And in such a hypnotised state, you thought you were doing the right thing when you broke into the place that was housing your professional dreams, and crept to retrieve some of the most sought after medication. Just for him. Oh how he thanked you then. How he had professed his love to you and praised you. You had been on cloud nine. Until you found out that someone had anonymously filed a report against you, provided all evidence, somehow all in the same night, and by the next midday you had already been summoned to court.

The day when you had stepped out of the courthouse was imprinted in your mind. Having received a much kinder sentence than one you had expected - more financial and reputational damages than anything else, you had been upbeat enough to engage in smalltalk with the state-provided lawyer whose name you had forgotten in a few hours. At least you had been that way before you saw him across the street. Lower body hidden by a jet black, matte sports car, black suit, black shirt, black hair… the reaper himself having arrived to taunt you and laugh at the death of your career. A carefree smile had been replaced by a deep scowl as the gears clicked, the puzzle completed itself in your head. Seonghwa. It had to be Seonghwa. It took every fibre of your being to restrain yourself from committing another criminal offence and attack him, and instead watch him climb into his car as though you had been nothing but empty space to him, and speed off in the direction of uptown. A murder most fowl. Of your soul, of your heart. And what mind you had left, you had promised to dedicate to hunting him down.

You sighed as you heaved the emergency exit door open, having avoided the main back entrance out of fear that Seonghwa might be there, or anywhere inside Club Estelle. What did you mean by hunting him down? Now that he was there. Within slapping distance, if you were to put it in an unceremonious manner. What were you actually seeking? Was it your mind twisting your desire for him to simply make a return and instead of stalling on your destruction, simply go on ahead with it and shoot you down? You shook your head, pulling the hoodie that was covering your otherwise scandalous outfit tighter around you as the cool air enveloped you. It was almost peaceful. Almost quiet. Almost.

“Hey Y/N~ you put on suuuuch a goood show, baby girl… fucking fantastic… damn. Was told I could catch you here and damn, you are a goddess.”

You snapped in the direction of the sound, finding a man who was rocking side to side approaching you. Relatively tall, scruffy, with dirt-stained clothing hanging off, unfortunately, a more athletic-looking body. So striking him with one of the heels in your bag and running was out of the question. Besides, who knew how he would act if he saw the cash? You backed away having been met by the stench of what had to have been at least three shots of the strongest liquor in the house, and found yourself with your back pressed against a wall of the dimly lit alleyway between the club, and a line of dumpsters, with this very drunk problem whose perverted grin was inducing an uncontrollable trembling. The longer you stood in this state of a showdown, much like a wild west film, the more he was suffocating you with the overwhelming, acrid stench of sweat, cigarettes and whatever concoction his stomach had made out of the alcohol he had consumed.

“Can I get a… private show, huh? Swear’ve been good just for you baby girl.”

You suddenly felt so alone. Abandoned. Terrifying conclusions running through your head. There was not a single performer at the club who you were more than acquaintances with, and even then, would they help? The club bouncers rarely got involved since the majority of the customers were high-paying, and apparently the rule there was: if they had cash, they could behave like trash. Maybe a dead stripper to them was just the usual night. Who would you have called in the past? You hated to admit the name, the face that floated into your brain as soon as you asked yourself the question. But Seonghwa had a way with situations like this. He had stood up for you before, to the point where you had to kiss away his pain and treat his wounds - though that was nothing compared to the scarlet sight that he had painted in your honour. It was horrific, and yet, he had made you smile. It had probably been the grandest gesture of adoration that you had ever received.

Still managing to keep some distance between you and the disgusting creature, your brain went into overdrive. You were backing away from him, but there was only so much time before he would pounce. As much as you wanted to just scream your heart out and pray some, well, a very specific, knight in shining armour would appear out of nowhere, you were a big girl and knew that the stories you indulged in reading were not true. In real life, and especially your own life, you had to be your own hero. It was your mission to remind yourself that Seonghwa was a villain. So you tried to project him onto your temporary enemy.

Although the action made bile rise in your throat, you peered into the drunk’s eyes, trying to read his actions. Not quite walking straight, he took another step towards you, supporting himself by pushing on the dumpster to his left, your right. You immediately mirrored it, your hand feeling for the wall to your right. A couple more steps and you would be right beside a trash pile that you had spotted when you first appeared in the alley way from the staff exit – the bastard sure was persistent and did not want to give up on you. You sneered – it could almost be his redeeming quality, compared to a certain someone else who liked to drive into the metropolis and then turn into an omniscient poltergeist.

“Come on, why are you being such a tease? Weren’t you having the time of your life earlier? So sexy, don’t you want to use that?”

He was making your skin crawl. You were trying your hardest to not interact with him more than necessary and stayed quiet. One wrong move and you were going to be in much deeper trouble than this. The sort where the best-case scenario you envisioned was showing up in the news, not so alive and in a ditch. The situation reminded you of a short story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but instead of a face off between a mongoose and a king cobra, there was a young woman with a flurry of ruminations and a myriad of regrets. Though the latter was definitely swaying like a snake.

“Hey, baby girl, are you not going to come to daddy any time soon? I am getting impatient, baby, and you don’t want to piss me off.” He growled, his previously aimless blabber turning into a threat.

Your body was screaming for you to just make a run for it, but you knew better than that. This guy, unfortunately for you, was sporty enough and lanky enough to catch up to you in no time. On top of his build, you had the brilliant idea to wear new heels for your show today, which had cut into your flesh just enough to hurt, as if scolding you and repeating ‘I told you so’ and leaving your feet exhausted. As you stole a glance at the more comfortable pair of shoes for which you had settled, it was as though a lightbulb went off in your head. That was right. You did have manoeuvrability. You just needed to get one hit.

You neared the exit of the alley, judging your proximity solely by the light emanating from a lonely street lamp right back on the main street. You steadied yourself as you saw the man open his mouth again and crouched further down to reach for an empty wine bottle that was lying on top of the pile you had been counting on. Keeping it hidden from the man, you stepped to the side, obscuring half of your body behind the large trash bin.

“What are you doing you bitch, huh? Answer me. I’ll give you one more chance.”

You remained silent, sliding your bag off your shoulder for better movement, pleading that it would not make a noise. The first glide down your upper arm was smooth enough, though your relief did not last long as it accelerated and came down to crash on some debris. That appeared to trigger new aggression in your opponent, as he practically snarled and lunged forwards, arms outstretched. You jumped backwards, only nearly missing a pipe protruding from one of the walls, and made contact with one of the walls, tripping the man as you did so. You were not thinking clearly, vision a blur, your surroundings spinning. You had only one mission now – survive. While the man was picking himself up, cursing and inspecting his painfully grazed hands, your eyes focused on the back of his head.

What if this was Seonghwa? What would you do? He had betrayed you, didn’t he? He had no right to be in your life again, regardless of your instincts. Regardless of how terrific he looked and how much he wanted you. An otherworldly rage overtook you as you imagined the devil in place of this sinner. In his designer suit, with his slicked back hair and chains that would glitter like stars even in the dim light. The set up made your body act on its own. You were fuelled by your anguish, and each sensation in the present turned into a re-enactment of your inner turmoil that had built up over the time. The guttural shriek, the stinging tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you shut your eyes and swung with all your might only to meet-

-nothingness. A strong grip of your wrist and a firm chest pressed against your back prevented you from moving. And again, that familiar scent. Your drug. Your demise. The emergency exit door snapped itself shut, suggesting that Seonghwa had only now made it into the alleyway, and an odd sense of calm enveloped you. For the time being, he was the lesser of the many evils.

“Oh, ‘s you! Mar-”

The stinging sound of a gunshot, lulled into an ambient slumber with a silencer. Time slowed, and you swore you could see the bullet soaring through the air, about to collide with the skull of the man whose fate had been sealed. But a blink before you could bear witness to the impact, darkness overtook you, and you were embraced in an overwhelming sweetness, vision sealed with a resolved, mercilessly protective hand. You were spun in a macabre dance, now facing the gangster, breathing against the crook of his neck and focusing on the freezing cold jewellery that caressed your cheek. Nothing more than a sigh, a tainted soul escaping from the mouth of the drunkard, before you heard a thud of his body colliding with the cold concrete.

You sincerely wished you could feel remorse, but all that you could identify in your body was an insatiable curiosity, and a perplexing connection of the societally horrific event with what had happened to your ex. So, that was how he had been disposed of, huh. The same damn signature. And he was most likely lying when he was trying to assure you that it was not the same man. His hand was too stable, heart was too calm, and the way in which he pressed his soft lips to your jaw, and once your sight was returned to you, your cheek, were all telltale signs that this was not the first time he had killed with you as his prime motivation.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who was ready to murder, darling.”

The words rang out in your head and the realisation hit you, cutting through the comforting fog that had settled over your psyche as you drifted in black irises. The bottle which you had picked out of the trash to serve as your weapon suddenly felt unimaginably heavy, and it began to slip.

“Now, now, we don’t need to cause any more of a mess…” gingerly, the bottle was taken from you, and clinked against the smoking gun as Seonghwa was more preoccupied with keeping your full attention on him. While you were still tame enough for him to manoeuvre, He returned the weapon under his jacket.

Dizzy, you swore you were within inches of delirium. Darting from one one part of his face to another, you soon spotted a tiny splatter of blood on his cheek, and lifted a trembling hand to caress it. Eyes wide, you watched as the crimson spread under your thumb and left a trail whilst you were wiping it away. Lips parted, you were locked in a soundless scream. This was not a joke. That man, no longer a man, a soon to be carcass, crow food, was dead. And without a doubt, Seonghwa was going to tell you that it was your doing. Turning slowly, you caught a glimpse of the aftermath, and the dark dots that now decorated Seonghwa’s side that had been the closest to the drunkard.

“Look at me, darling. Look at me.”

“But I, but he-”

“I said. Look at me.”

“But you kill-”

A crash resonated as Seonghwa threw the bottle against the opposite wall, the olive-coloured rainfall covering the dead body and rippling over the dumpsters. Knees buckling, you wanted to collapse next to it then and there, only to have a gloved hand force your face to be right against his.

“You are a lethal flower, darling. Shame this had to happen.”

“Shame?”

“You’re shaking. Did this man touch you?” with a concerned air, Seonghwa inquired, his breath hot against your skin. Discreetly, he began to step towards the exit of the alleyway.

“N-no… but-”

“Did he scare you?”

“Y-yes… a lot.”

“For fucks sake, these idiots have no self control, hurting my precious angel like this.”

Precious angel. You were his precious angel. So he did care, at least somewhat. You had a space, a chance to corrupt what was left of his heart. Your forehead was against his as you allowed him to guide you out of the cramped space, careful to sidestep when he told you, lifting one leg, the other when he whispered that you should do so. This felt right. He was back. He was here. He was ready to do anything for you. This was where you wanted him. While you were busy processing what had just unfolded and fading into your beloved manifestations, Seonghwa pulled you into an embrace and began to direct two of his men who had snuck in through the emergency exit and were awaiting instructions. After a couple of raises of the eyebrow, and one point towards the bag which you had abandoned, they began to tiptoe around the area, ready for a rapid spring cleaning.

Wherever he was taking you, you had no choice but to follow. Such was the rule. Even if you had other ideas and plans, now that Seonghwa was back, you had to fall into his rhythm, and figure out a new strategy that would not cause a dissonance. Your clouded mind was lulled by his low instruction. Slow down here, now heading out onto the street there… you were a puppet in his hold. You were… a criminal. Weren’t you? You froze just as the two of you approached a parked car, and judging by Seonghwa’s immediate instinct to reach into his pocket, you assumed it was his. No, you couldn’t. This was… you needed to go home. Conflicted, the hold you had on Seonghwa’s jacket loosened.

“Darling?”

“I… I need to go home.” his soft smile fell, replaced with a judgemental grimace. Retaining a fraction of decency, he refrained from shoving you against the vehicle, instead choosing to subject you to scrutiny.

“You are home.”

“Here?” you surveyed your surroundings, figuring out that you were outside Estelle, and luckily, there were no longer any stragglers who regularly tried to make it through into the venue past doors closing. The street was ghastly, located in one of the most dangerous parts of the metropolis housing anything from cheap alcohol and sex to designer drugs and assassins. Anything one could desire, they could find here. Was this really your home?

“Yes. With me.” Seonghwa was reeling you back. A click, and the car was unlocked. Keeping you within reach, he leaned to open the passenger door. You shook your head.

“No… no… I don’t want to be a-”

“Don’t want to be a what?” he insisted, and squeezed your upper arms, as if he was about to shake the answer out.

“A criminal.”

“The fuck?”

“I am… look… I was… Again I was so ready to-” the man who was probably still in that alleyway, blood spilling like wine out of a glass that toppled over, occupied your vision, and you gawped at the bloodstain on Seonghwa’s cheek.

“But you didn’t. You did not kill him.” Sighing, he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, not wishing to deal with a breakdown, far too attracted to you physically to care for what effect his expression of affection had.

“But I made you…”

“Oh baby, no you didn’t. I did it out of love for you. You had no part in this except being my angel. Darling, Y/N, come on…” picking his words carefully, he permeated your barriers, crawling into the expanse of your mind palace like a virus.

“I am no angel. The law literally says I committed crimes. I should not be here. I should never be here-”

Evidently this caring approach was not functional. You were simply melting into him and turning into a sappy mess, instead of the coldhearted bitch who he had spoken to in the club. Where were you? Where was the goddess who wanted nothing more but to hurt him? He had deconstructed you a little too much, it seemed, you needed a bit more venom in your system. Seonghwa snapped.

“You know what. You are right.”

“Huh?” still too dazed to answer properly, you hummed.

“Who do you think got you out of a jail sentence in the first place, huh?”

“I- I don’t… What?” eyes narrowing, Seonghwa peered into your soul. He needed you to wake up if he was going to give into his obsession.

“Talk to me. Take a guess. Do you really think that the judge was benevolent? Fuck… girl, you’re naive. That bastard passes his bank account around the courtroom, you really think he woke up one day and felt like being nice just because? Oh no… sweetheart. I got you out. You hear me? I did. Because like hell are you gonna be anybody else’s. Huh, you tried your best with that idiot rotting in the ground. Bet you screamed my name as he fucked you, right? Tell me, is that right? SPEAK, sweetheart, don’t piss me off.”

Noticing how you could not contain your tremors, he released his grip on your upper arms, only to position your hands so that they rested on his waist, while his cupped your face. What was supposed to be an intimate gesture felt like a stare down with a wild beast. His expression was that of a predator, pupils dilated so he could refresh the memories of every piece of you, while his lips curled into what you interpreted as a crooked, pitying smile.

If you did not know better, you would have believed that your love that was reflected in his dark orbs was actually his. But he was a twisted, terrifying man, who could only take. As such, most you could expect was his suffocating coddling, his treatment of you like you were of his design. His cooing as he peered at you and saw how you were putty under his touch. You hated him precisely because you knew you could never escape.

“Oh baby… my lovely little angel, look at you. Don’t you know that I would do anything to make you smile? Come on, you know that right?” he wiped a stray tear with his right hand, and you swore you caught a quiff of blood and gunpowder, blending with a hint of alcohol that was still on his breath from earlier, all to be washed away by that scent you always adored, vanilla, flowers, coffee. Seonghwa. You nodded, which seemed to provide relief for the man.

“And I will never let your pretty hands get dirty, okay? If you need somebody dead just say it my darling and I will do it. Me. You are my angel. And now, let me prove it to you, alright?”

Whatever noise had existed before was now but a soft buzz of a streetlamp. No rustling. Not a single droplet. Suspended in an intimate fog, you studied the criminal, the hardened killer, the bloodthirsty demon in front of you. The one who was so hellbent on getting you to follow him to the realm below, even though you had never left. It was simple. He led, you followed. He told you to jump, you jumped. That was all he wished for. And perhaps this was indeed your fate. Not to be rushing around in hospital corridors, nor to be collecting banknotes in a g-string. But to completely fall from grace for the embodiment of an apocalypse, who more than willingly closed the space between you to taste the lust you had been suppressing, relishing your shared sin.

Bang bang, that awful sound…

The wind styled your locks as Seonghwa sped deeper into the night, abandoning the artificial lighting of the underworld district. From bars and clubs, to sleepy neighbourhoods, and finally, the inspiring expanse of rolling hills and rocky slopes, he was taking you to a place where you would never be bothered nor controlled, yet one that gave you a view of the city that was so breathtaking, that it was easy to believe you could destroy it. Estelle would be smaller than ever, and your problems would be nothing more than a haze on the line of the horizon. The cliffside had been your spot when you were something of an item, with you always begging for Seonghwa to take you there, if not for the alone time, then at least for the striking skyline. How oddly romantic of him to pick the spot now.

Relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls Royce convertible, a new addition to Seonghwa’s collection - as he had informed before starting the car, you tested the strength of the breeze by stretching your hand out of the window and letting it float. After a couple of tries, you finally got into the right pose for minimal resistance, and pretended that you were a bird, soaring, cageless. The glimmering dots of the city even further from you than now as you spread your little wings and lifted yourself towards freedom. In moments like these, you were happy to be able to enjoy the simplicities, and it was easier than ever to pretend that you were not the Y/N who had fallen so irreversibly for a beast, that to you even his lies sounded like the truth. And, of course, it was easy to imagine that Seonghwa himself was capable of feeling love.

He did not bother taking off his gloves nor, which was uncharacteristic of him, clearing the remnants of the execution off his face, as if it was a badge of honour. Interestingly, the more you observed the gangster, the more you got used to the new additions and even took them as complementing features. While he kept one hand on the steering wheel, he continuously seeked contact with you, the other gripping your thigh as if to make sure that you were still there in the car with him and were not a hallucination. The exhilarating velocity at which the car dashed past trees, somnolent villas and road signs was barely letting you catch your breath due to Seonghwa choosing to keep the roof off, and so to stabilise yourself you returned the gesture. The smirk into which his lips curled was not quite as threatening as it had appeared before, however his aggressive slam on the accelerator made you start praying. What would the family that had not yet disowned you think, if they were to find you in a crashed car with one of the most notorious men in the region? You chuckled; they would probably agree that at least the last thing you saw was beauty himself.

Finally, you approached the secluded location, and fortunately, it was as abandoned as ever. Grinding to a halt on a gravelly clearing, beyond which were two lines of wooden fences that had been set up at the very edge of the small cliff, Seonghwa set the car into parking, cranked the handbrake and turned off the ignition. A deafening silence overtook you as you looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars reminding you of the collection of silver that hung around the enigmatic fiend’s neck and on his left ear. In the absence of machinery, you could feel his presence even more acutely, and the anticipation for what he undoubtedly had planned was reducing the supposed coolness of the hour into a mere deception. Your body was burning up, and as Seonghwa’s hand moved higher and higher until it was teasing you by playing with the drawstrings of your tracksuit bottoms you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

You stared out at the metropolis through the windshield, registering your beloved criminal’s movements towards you. As you studied the glinting whites, reds and yellows that formed the urban starscape, you could not help but ponder how, out of all the millions of people, in this architectural phenomenon that seemed to stretch on forever, on a day when you were not even supposed to be where you had ended up being, you had run into none other than Park Seonghwa. And as fate would have it, you were naive enough to let him take everything from you. And being the loved up, hypnotised fool that you were, you thanked him for the misery in which you found yourself, because at least he made you feel. With him you were a disaster, but you saw life in colour. With him it was impossible to tell whether there would be a tomorrow, but you could exist in an exuberant today. With him, the everchanging palette of emotion had a canvas to paint on. And tonight, you were going to let the masterpiece create itself.

“Take the gloves off if you want to touch me so badly.” you derided him for his eagerness, though did not see any dampening to it. On the contrary, he appeared to be more drawn to you than ever, mumbling a ‘sure thing, darling’ as he unbuttoned the leather, and slid the pair off his hands with his canines to speed up the process. The gloves found a home in the compartment underneath the wheel, to join the harness and pistol that he had stashed away there.

“Good?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Good.” no more words were needed for him to pull you towards him, and lock your lips together in a feverish, thrilling kiss.

Oh, how you missed this. How you missed the mind-numbing sensation of his hand on the back of your neck, how soft his lips were compared to his sharp and intimidatingly stunning appearance. You moved in a familiar rhythm, having recognised one another’s alluring presence and only wanting more with each passing second. Frustrated with the remaining distance, Seonghwa growled into you and dragged you by your top; understanding his goal, you rose from your seat and promptly were settled on his lap, grinding against his growing erection that was concealed by too many layers of clothing for your liking.

Brushing his hair back, lightly tugging on it as you reached the ends, you were giving yourself up to the scalding hot hellfire. Your memory did not fail you: the action elicited a groan, and the kiss was further deepened until your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Pulling away, you gasped, only to be alerted by a stinging pain on your cheek, and a hostile grimace on the man, whose hand was hovering next to your jawline.

“Did I say you could pull away?”

“And since when are you so damn needy?” You challenged, slapping away the hand that had just collided with you, and placing yours on his exposed throat, not bothering to ease into the action as you pushed your digits into the sensitive skin, restricting his airflow and preventing him from taunting you with a mocking retort.

You continued to rock your hips forward, sensing your own arousal climbing further and further amidst the enjoyment of the man’s temporary obedience. You watched his eyes roll back momentarily, and he attempted to tilt his head towards you and steal your lips, only for you to wriggle in his lap until you were completely out of his reach, still holding his neck.

Seonghwa was seeing stars, and yet amongst them you still shined the brightest. There you were. This was who he was searching for. When he was at his limit, and could no longer withstand the restraint, he rapidly reached for your wrist and yanked your arm away, making you yelp. To prevent you from attempting anything similar, he used his hands as cuffs to keep you under his control, and pulled you to him. Giving you a smirk corrupted by lust, he kissed you again, only this time letting his long tongue part your mouth, and swirl itself around.

Wanton sounds filled your mind and preoccupied your ears as you parted, strings of saliva connecting you. Apparently dissatisfied, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and gripped your waist. Sitting up, he mumbled ‘back seat’ and stumbled out of the car with you wrapped around him. In seconds, you were lying on the couch-like leather, Seonghwa above you as he shifted his attention to your neck, leaving trails of spit, and nipping at the skin until he saw the beloved bruising begin to show. Sucking above the jugular vein, he imagined himself tearing you apart then and there. Destroying you. But the way in which your hands swiftly moved to unbutton his shirt was too enticing to not commend.

“Look who is needy now.” he teased, and reached for the zipper on your hoodie, unable to contain a pleased sigh as he saw that you had not changed out of the white dancewear. As soon as the hoodie was off, and flying in the direction of the steering wheel, he let himself devour the tainted goddess that you were.

Trailing over the fabric, he did not wish to take it off, the image of you around the pole still fresh in his mind and amplifying his lust. His lips made contact with your chest as he added more love bites to his abstract design.

“You drove me crazy earlier tonight with those moves of yours. How could you even consider anything else when you have a body made to sin?”

“I think you are batshit by default.”

“Do you want me to punish you again?” he threatened, discontented when it had no effect on you as you contended.

“By what, hitting me? Two can play that game-” as soon as he saw your hand flying towards him, he caught it and forced it down by you, and chuckled.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come.”

“Big deal.”

“Says the whore who was grinding against me.”

He shifted to untie your sweats, and dragged the material down to reveal your matching white g-string, stopping for a second before moving to take it off too. The bra was going to be enough for him.

“Says the reprobate with a hardon from the bare minimum.”

He did not respond, too enraptured by the sight before him. Your form, laid out and so familiar, and yet, the newfound resolve and the bite in your words was boundlessly more attractive than the mellow nurse in training that he had fucked before. The blaze that had festered and grown within you, painting your psyche and very essence in the soot of detestation was a guiding light to him, a star in the pitch black that he gravitated towards, and wished to take over. Your strength and determination spurred him on and inspired him to make you reach the point of no return. How? He was yet to decide. But that came after he had his fill of your intoxicating body.

“Damn, Y/N, do I even need to get you ready for me? You’re so fucking wet-” he remarked, running a hand over your pussy, with it immediately receiving a dose of your slick.

“Guess you don’t.” you countered, attempting to shut your legs together, but to no avail as your brattiness only encouraged him.

“You know what. I am in a giving mood. A changed man. Ready to commit some good deeds.” he announced to you in a low, borderline monstrous tone as Seonghwa pulled you by your ankles closer to him and began to work at your arousal.

After a slow start, where he languidly circled your nub until you gave out a whine, the man dedicated himself wholly, and soon enough, you were sinking into a sensual paradise. The two digits pumped into you, while with his other hand Seonghwa was stimulating your sensitive clit relentlessly, rubbing the erect nub until you were barely able to produce any sound at all. Pressing his thumb right against its tip, he curled his fingers and beckoned you closer to a climax, stopping the motions, he kept his hand inside as he replaced the finger that was dominating your clit with another thumb, and instead took to rapidly building you up with practised, fast flicks, higher, higher, just as you were about to-

Your hips jerked up, only to be met with a total emptiness as you tried desperately to coax Seonghwa into giving you your orgasm, to which he only responded with a click of his tongue, and a demonstrative sucking of his digits as you watched him with a glazed over expression.

“You rude, unbearable menace.”

“Awh, is my precious angel angry that I did not give you what you wanted?” he asked, giving his cock a couple of pumps before making a circular motion with his index finger and ordering you.

“On your hands and knees, like the bitch you are.” immediately, you obliged, unable to contain yourself after he had denied you what you had been seeking, with that devilish grin suggesting just how much the notion had excited him. Finally, he undid his belt and trousers, letting his aching length spring free, a hiss escaping Seonghwa as the cool air hit it.

Finding your slick-coated pussy with the tip of his cock, he teased you, repeatedly moving it back and forth between your folds. When you let out a whine, rocking your ass side to side in an attempt to deliver your need for more friction, Seonghwa merely chuckled and pushed forward, keeping his member flush against your sex, but not offering any relief. Your wetness coated him as he continued the torturous act, pausing to flick your clit and snicker at just how desperate you had become for his dick.

“Tell me if you want it.” Seonghwa wanted to hear you beg, or sigh, or anything else to suggest that you were fully pliable, but what had come out of your dirty mouth surpassed all his wishes.

“You want this pussy more than I want you, judging by how fucking hard your cock is, Hwa.”

Without as much as a warning, he put an end to the foreplay and slammed his hips against yours, sinking deep inside and groaning at the warm invitation of your walls. As he heard you yell out, he mercilessly glided back until only his tip was between your labia, only to thrust and bottom out once more. And again. And again. Just as he had remembered from the nights he had you before, this left you trembling, and soon enough your body was pleading for more, to which he happily obliged, smacking you on the ass and speeding up.

The feeling of you spasming around him and the feeble moans were an unrivalled art. He positioned one hand to hook around you and held it against the area right below your belly, biting his lip as he felt his dick pushing deep inside you, the bulge detectable by his palm. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa focused on this sensation, thereby slowing down ever so slightly, and moving to hit the spot that accelerated the growth of the knot in your tightening core.

“A-ah… Seong… hwa…” you mewled into each stroke, hazy and unable to form anything more than nonsensical babble.

“That’s right, darling, only I can make you feel this good.”

Seonghwa was despicable, because he knew exactly how to make you lose your mind and fall apart under him and forget that you ever hated him at all, driven only by a carnal passion. Having had enough practice to study you, you were at his mercy as he provided the exact fullness that you had been desiring for so long, the exact firm thrusts that were bringing you closer and closer to a total fall, and the honey-laden voice that had you turning even weaker.

“My- darling-”

Your climax came down on you hard and fast, and you crumbled into the shaking that washed over you, forehead almost connecting with the back of the seats if not for the fistful of your tresses that Seonghwa had grabbed. Not letting you ride out your high, he quickened his pace and each thrust was making your vision darken and your moans turn into pathetic wails, drowned out by the lewd slapping of skin against skin that was lubricated by your orgasm. Using you as a fucktoy, he chased his own high and pushed you into an abyss of violent pleasure, ceasing to abuse your cunt only when he deemed it necessary for himself.

He slid his cock out of your pulsating sex, dragging it over your clit before ushering you to kneel before him. Movements still too slow and lagging, Seonghwa proceeded to guide one leg, then another down, so that you were ready for him. Lifting your chin, he he peered into your hazy orbs and commanded:

“Open.”

As you slackened your jaw and opened your mouth wide in obedience, he spat into it, and upon positioning one of his hands at the back of your head and the other at the base of his member, he slid into the warmth, sighing as your tongue glided along his throbbing length, as if encouraging him to go deeper until his tip hit the very limit and bumped against the back of your throat. You struggled to suppress your gag reflex, but the salaciousness of the combination of yours and his spit and your orgasm dribbling around his cock as you began to bob your head was driving Seonghwa to the brink of insanity, and you desperately wanted to see him unravel entirely.

“Ah… that’s it. My good cock slut. This mouth is built… for me.”

You allowed him to choke you as he fucked your throat with abandon, submitting to the oncoming waves of his orgasm. Clawing at his thighs you seeked balance, to which he responded by pushing you even closer, earning a muted yelp. The vibration drove him over the edge as he pumped himself inside you only a few more times, before collapsing into a series of staggered bucks of the hips and a muttering of filthy curses.

“Swallow darling, I bet you were dreaming of this- ah, fuck-” he exclaimed.

He threw his head back as you centred yourself, trying to relax into how his hand that was tangled in your hair kept you so close that your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, though it proved to be an impossible challenge. In an effort to overcome the pain that spread over your jaw as Seonghwa refused to let go of you, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes and focused on the sensation of the hot, salty cum coating and running down the back of your throat.

When he finally released you from his hold and let you fall onto the floor of the car, you sputtered and gasped for air, vision having grown blurry. While he did not comfort you, nor praise you for how well you had taken him, even though judging from his state you could make your own conclusions about the performance, this roughness felt more real, more honest than the intimacy you had shared before. You licked the corners of your mouth, collecting the remnants of his cum and spit, and crawled up onto the leather seating to be met with open arms, a gesture which, in your exhaustion, you accepted.

Captured in a lazy embrace you admired the universe that surrounded you. The dawn was imminent, with some of the more enthusiastic birds already greeting you with their songs and the distant rumble of the city beginning to pick up, and yet none of this felt real. It was like you were floating in the air, tethered to the mortal realm only by the man beside you. You had taken the liberty of snatching Seonghwa’s suit jacket, considering that the outerwear you had been wearing had been unceremoniously discarded and thrown into the driver leg space, outside of your immediate reach.

You pondered what was going to happen after this broken reunion, that had been as always, orchestrated by the evil mastermind with a pretty face, currently resting on the seats, one arm over the door, the other on the back rest, head tilted to the sky. When you inspected one of the dark spots on the right sleeve of the jacket, you had come to realise that the dead man, who you had left behind to chase your pleasure, had, amidst his departure from the living, was trying to greet Seonghwa. Using his gang name, no less. You wanted to laugh until tears would be streaming down your face. Double over and, hands hitting your thighs, fail to compose yourself and continue laughing at just how ignorant you were. Fooled once again. Of course that scene had been this criminal’s doing. How else could anything ever happen to you if not with Seonghwa’s meddling? This overly involved, human embodiment of jeopardy who you had voluntarily invited in to share space and time, so elegant as he was devoid of movement, counting stars in the sky, the unbuttoned white shirt gracing his figure like a heavenly robe. It was a shame that you had to have chosen him to glorify, especially since he fit the role well enough to fit into your delusions.

As you sat upright, only to put your elbows on your knees and lean to catch your head in your hands, you mused whether you truly despised this man or not. It was almost habitual, routinely, to curse his name again, and again until it was nothing but an incoherent collection of syllables. It was your shield and clarity, your comprehension of the incorrigible man who, come the opportunity, would shoot you down the same way that he did to hundreds, if not thousands of others. It was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, but unfortunately true. In his eyes the individuals with families, friends, hopes and dreams, hell, even those with nothing at all, were nothing but sacks of bone and blood that he could scare into submission, or drain if they disobeyed. Such were his methods. Methods that you had looked the other way from, making yourself believe that you were above that amateur, unjust purgatory. No matter how much of you Seonghwa received as an offering, it was never going to be enough. The seven deadly sins were a bucket list for him, and one in which he would outshine every reckless criminal. He was systematic, calculating, and would not hesitate to remove a variable that no longer served him.

You were serene, a ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. Slowly, you blinked, immersing yourself in the sensation of the bites, the kisses that the man you had once felt something for gifted you. Sultry tattoos that you would wear with the pride of a person who had defeated themselves, come to terms with, and learnt to coexist with inner turmoil. Nothing short of a miracle. If this hell were to continue, then you would simply have to adapt to live with the ebbs and flows of a turbulent tide. Hilarious, how you were treating Seonghwa as if he was a terminal disease that you had to live with, but the analogy was comforting. Until the moment when you would receive a bullet between your brows, you would strive to live fully, and remain indifferent. As much as you had wanted to ‘get the final word’, you had come to realise that all you had to say had been said, and he was no longer worth your time. Looking at the horizon, you spotted the sun beginning to stir under its heavy blankets, getting ready to rise.

“You thought about me, didn’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice broke your peace, and you turned to him, regarding his bewitching demeanour with a tired onceover.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking about me, in that alley way. Weren’t you?” so, he had realised now, too. However, you were not bothered to continue this discourse. Fascinating how the mind of even the most evil of men could get fixated on the simple things like a random good-for-nothing becoming a gourmet meal for maggots.

“I am not sure why or how that matters.”

“Would you kindly get the gun for me?” Now that piqued your interest, so you obliged, and reached over the front seats, aware of how your ass was on full display for Seonghwa though he had just seen you in even more lewd tones. After a couple of tries, the hand gun was in your hands, and hooking it by the trigger guard, you tried to pass it to its owner. To your surprise, he refused and you remained standing in your perplexion.

“What are you getting at?”

“You definitely thought about me. As a matter of fact you were thinking about doing this for a long time.” you could not deny that, and thus remained silent, “Remember how I taught you to fire a gun?” the man continued, and you nodded along.

“That I do, but again. Not sure how it applies.” you crossed your arms, the pistol swinging ever so slightly from your index finger.

“Don’t you want to fulfil your dream, darling?” he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Another game. Another dare. Another attempt at making you feel something when you had no more emotions to spare. You were spent. For the first time since you had first come to be acquainted with Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Hwa, Mars, you saw a stranger. A passing face who you would regard, but most importantly, go on your merry way and never wish to see again. No more yearning, nor begging. He was cute when he thought he was in control. You chuckled, earning a questioning gaze from the ghost of your past.

“What is so amusing, my dear Y/N? So delighted that you can barely contain yourself?”

Oh, if only he knew. You steadied your breathing, and through half-lidded eyes, took in the man’s form that you had once worshipped. Everything had finally clicked, and unknowingly, the symphony in your mind was now fully composed, all to Seonghwa’s rhythm. Your magnum opus, by the visitation of a brutal muse, completed. With the softness of a stalking cat, you bent forward and came face to face with this boy, and with both hands, pressed the gun to his bare chest, smiling languidly as it collided with the necklaces to make a noteless tune. Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he followed your ascension back to now leaning against the front seat further from him, stifling a laugh of his own as he realised your intentions. The world held its breath as you dispelled your nightmare, and, light-hearted, like you were discussing daily happenings or the weather, asked him:

“You said you’d keep my hands clean, right?”

“Yes.” breathless, he whispered.

“You said you would kill anyone for me, right?” you continued sweetly, studying how Seonghwa checked the magazine and clicked the hammer with practised motions, appearing almost impressed.

“Yes.”

“Do anything to make me smile?” you tested, and he conceded, brushing a hand over the barrel, and looking up to memorise your every detail.

“Yes.”

“Then prove it. And make me smile. One last time.”

You uttered, admiring how his perfect skin, his gorgeous eyes, his dark soul glowed, caught ablaze in the rays of the rising sun.

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

756 notes · View notes

luvhughes43 · 1 year

Text

your boy can't read ! | trevor zegras x author!reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

ynoffical

Liked by trevorzegras, jackbenedwards, and others

ynofficial my weekend☕️📖💐

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stephbohrer ❤️❤️

fan01 writing your next book right?😁

fan02 we want something happy this time !

fan01 no.

jackbenedwards lets go book shopping once you're back in nyc

ynoffical of course! ill text u💗

trevorzegras yaba daba doo☕️

liked by ynoffical

fan03 whatever the hell that means

trevorzegras

Liked by ynofficial, jamie.drysdale, and others

trevorzegras coolest place in the world⚡️

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_quinnhughes who wrote your caption? why does it actually make sense for once

trevorzegras i take offence to that.

fan04 the fact that the caption is so simple and quinns saying that😭😭

fan05 i'm going to be honest i never have any idea what trev is talking about liked by ynoffical

jackhughes interesting... 🤔

jamie.drysdale what happened to cereal being your ideal meal?

trevorzegras i'm a changed man🫡

ynoffical cute house!

liked by trevorzegras

ynfan now hold on...🧐

ynoffical

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and others

ynoffical had some time off🌞🎨

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fan05 WHO IS THAT???

fan06 why are a bunch of nhl players liking..🧐

jackhughes im still so confused about this whole thing

ynofficial confused ? were in love😁🙏💗

jackhughes you know he can't read right?

ynofficial i know😞💔

trevorzegras you know i was just thinking and i think your bf is an excellent reader... like hes probably so good its shocking

ynoffical no i was actually just thinking that he can't

fan07 STAY FOCUSED ON THE BOOK QUEENIE DON'T LET THE BOYS DISTRACT U💪🔥‼️

trevorzegras

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trevorzegras reading very seriously.

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jackhughes no i dont think you are

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trevorzegras WTF STOP??

ynoffical happy to see you're finally learning how to read❤️

trevorzegras what if this was my last straw?

fan08 you're the lea michelle of hockey babes its okay! not everybody has to know how to read❤️

anaheimducks so proud of our Z🧡

hockeyfan: nawww even his team is setting him up😭

oldman get ur ass back on the ice you do NOT need to be reading.

ynoffical

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ynoffical totally normal weekly update

tagged trevorzegras

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fan09 HOLD ON????

trevorzegras 🤔🤔

jackhughes the last slide says: 👁❤️🫵 (I love Trevor Zegras) hope this helps❤️ liked by ynoffical

trevorzegras 😐

stepbroher you're really living out the hockey romance fantasy wow

ynoffical waiting for u to release your own hockey book🙏

fan10 does this mean the next book is a romance?😁

ynoffical 🤭🤭

trevorzegras i love you too

ynoffical i love u so much its crazy

trevorzegras i love you so much i read a book

jackhughes correction: he learnt how to read

trevorzegras STOP GO AWAY!

trevorzegras

liked by ynoffical, jackhughes, and others

trevorzegras you make it so easy to love 🧡🧡

tagged ynoffical

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ynoffical 💗💗

liked by trevorzegras

jackhughes so glad ynoffical can speak emojis! otherwise you guys wouldn't be able to text each other

trevorzegras jackhughes you make me sick.

fan11 z baby look at me this isn't you...

colecaufield u guys look great💤

jamie.drysdale i'm actually surprised and i've known this whole time

masonmctavish23 i didn't think he had it in him

fan12 NOOOO THIS CANT BE HAPPPENING TO ME😭🙏

ynoffical just posted a story!

caption: lover boy🫂🤍 (aka the love of my life)

jackhughes replied: if only trevvy could read that😪❤️

trevorzegras replied: calling u in 5 🧡🧡 love you

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jamie drysdale x reader #mason mctavish x reader #cole caufield x reader #insta edit #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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heartstringsduet · 1 month

Text

Happy Wednesday 🥰 Been writing this fic for the last few days and trying not to THINK at all while I do...is that a good idea? idk but it makes me hate my writing less and have a little fun. can you believe I would write Michelle into a fic. thanks for the tags @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @paperstorm

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh @honeybee-taskforce

Carlos wonders what bad blood lived between them but with how defensive TK seems and how Judd has become more reactionary since the explosion, he can see how they’re matches lighting each others oils. Michelle confirms as much as she delicately picks at his focaccia with two fingers.

“I mostly keep out of firefighter business, but these two are constantly at each other’s throats," she says. "Honestly? It makes me want to shake them and tell them that there are more important things in life.”

Carlos knows not to go further into what Michelle is implying, because they will inevitably talk about Iris’ missing soon enough and the longer he can prolong that topic trying to tip the shield off what he smoothed over, the better.

“Really? Who starts these fights?”

Michelle pops an olive into her mouth and chews. “Not sure but if I were to guess, it’s the captain’s son. He’s been a bit of a seesaw.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“One day he is super open and friendly, joking with everyone, except maybe Juddie, the next he snaps at everyone and takes his lunch out to eat alone. My office is opposite his father’s and I hear him heave a sigh multiple times a day because of his son.” Michelle’s sharp eyes narrow. “Why the interest?”

Turns out, Carlos liked it better when she stuck to talking about herself. “Just asking.”

She hums and leans back into his couch. “I saw you dance with him at the honkytonk. And I’ve known you since you were still squeaky-voiced and hadn’t even reached my shoulders yet. God, your mop of curls was cute, you wear it too short now.” He moxes away before she can tug at his short strands. Her grin grows, then grows smaller. “You had your moon eyes out when you spun him around. But Carlos, he--”

“I know he has a boyfriend.” It still burns on the way up. Great.

Her mouth falls open. “You do?” OPEN TAG &

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21

@freneticfloetry @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @birdclowns

@strandnreyes @reyesstrand @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@thebumblecee @goodways @carlos-in-glasses

@carlos-tk @lightningboltreader @sznofthesticks

@lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74 @decafdino

@louis-ii-reyes-strand @kiwichaeng @safeaswrites

@theghostofashton

#fic: this line of work #michelle writes #wip wednesday #tarlos fic #tg

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hsslilly-blog · 3 months

Text

hello! i’m happy to share with you my high school story + hollywood u archive. these are spreadsheets containing screenshots and/or the pdf files of the in-game quests:

for the high school story archive click here

for the hollywood u: rising stars archive click here

they are better displayed on desktop (or in the sheets app). this is a work in progress. it will be constantly updated until both games are fully archived. i have screenshots of most of high school story’s quests, but i’m still working through them. as it is, i have catalogued the main questline for both games.

i have also archived the original android .apk for both games back when the servers were shutdown in 2022. high school story is fully playable, while hollywood u is not due to a server check. you may download them via archive.org:

high school story for android at archive.org here

hollywood u: rising stars for android at archive.org here

general instructions/clarifications:

in the spreadsheet, you'll be able to consult the level, name, release date and summary of the quests, along with the link for the pdf of the .lua file. for the screenshots, click on the quest name.

high school story has both screenshots and the pdf files for its quests;

hollywood u only has pdf files; i wasn’t able to get the screenshots while the game was still running, unfortunately;

hollywood u’s main questline is incomplete since the last three quests were not stored locally, so i do not have the files for them, sadly;

this also means some side quests for hollywood u will be unavailable since everything around august 2016 was stored in the server and not locally anymore;

for high school story, i was unable to play some side quests as they were very time specific (e.g. world cup) or they were exclusive partnerships (e.g. lea michelle, monster high, one direction). for those, i will include only the pdf files;

the pdf files are not complicated to read/make sense of, but tell me if you need help or want me to go in depth into the tags.

please, if you're able to provide me with the missing release dates for hollywood u or ANY release date for high school story, do not hesitate to dm me. the same applies for the missing hollywood u quests. i have made a list of them here.

i am open to any questions, suggestions and anything else!

#high school story #hss prime #hollywood u #hwu game #pixelberry #hss archive #hwu archive

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kingofthering · 3 months

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saw your tags when Fabio was supposed to follow on Marc s footsteps, but a mess happened with his manager.

I am new what exactly happened

Okay, so. Going to gather all the information from Fabio's biography by Michel Turco.

Fabio's first ever manager was Eduardo Martin.

Essentially, Eduardo's main issue is that instead of growing Fabio's career to make Fabio better, he chose the directions of Fabio's career to better fit the promotion and marketing of his energy drink (Wild Wolf) [note : the brand never ever really came to life).

In 2011, Fabio was riding in 80cc and that's where Eduardo approached his parents. He started helping Fabio and buying him a bike so he could train for the next category. He helped Fabio secure a sit in CEV Moto3 in 2013, with the team Wild Wolf Racing. That year, Fabio also moved to Spain in Eduardo's house.

Fabio won CEV Moto3 in 2013, winning the last 3 races (championship had 9 of them).

At that time, Emilio Alzamora (Marc's manager for 18 years, until mid-2022) was working with Monlau Competition and Estrella Galicia to build a ladder to bring young riders to Moto3 and then Moto2 (they had already done it with Alex Marquez and Alex Rins).

During the 2013 season, in Albacete (so either June or September), Emilio approached Eduardo to talk about Fabio. Apparently, Eduardo wasn't liking the potential move to Marc VDS in Moto2 and the presence of Monster (remember when I said that Eduardo only cared about his energy drink brand?) and Emilio said that it took him days and days before being able to have Fabio's contract signed.

In 2014, Fabio was finally in the Monlau Competition structure and he joined team Honda Estrella Galicia 0,0. Emilio says that they taught Fabio a lot of things then, especially in the way his race weekends were structured. Fabio also got to try new bike parts that HRC was then giving to Alex R. and Marc.

The 2014 season of CEV Moto3 contained 11 races. Fabio won 9 of them and finished the other two second. He obviously got a second title that year. Please have a look at one of my fave quotes from the book, where Emilio compares Marc & Fabio at 14 years old.

In the summer of 2014, Emilio had to go talk to Carmelo Ezpeleta because back then, the minimum age to participate in a GP was 16 (note : Fabio would only turn 16 on the 20th of April 2015, the day after the 3rd round of that MotoGP/Moto2/Moto3 season). After a bunch of discussions, Emilio managed to have the big instances say that "a 15 years-old crowned in CEV could start in the World Championship even if his birthday was after the start of the season" [note : we essentially still have that rule today except now you have to be 18 and 17 years old are accepted if they were crowned champions the year prior].

Now the year is 2015 and Fabio is riding for Estrella Galicia 0,0 in Moto3. His season does not go as he would have hoped. He gets two second places in the early part of the season but finishes 10th and has a couple of crashes, ends up beat by his teammate Jorge Navarro.

Here's what Emilio had to say about the situation : "The issue wasn't Fabio but this Eduardo, taking care of him. [...] He didn't know much about racing. He only had one thing in mind : to see Fabio on top of every practice session. He wanted him to win before he had even learnt what had to be learned. This attitude didn't benefice anyone."

Mid-season, Emilio said : "His results until now have exceeded our expectations. The objective of the first half of the season is to gain experience. Some people seem to forget that he's only 16 years old."

As the season progresses, tensions rise between Eduardo and Emilio. Eduardo wants to take Fabio to Leopard Racing (they were on top of the Moto3 Championship with Danny Kent then) while other team managers are interested in Fabio, including Aki Ajo. Aki said that he was really interested in getting Fabio and that he did a lot of efforts to have him in his team. He said : "I remember that it was a real challenge and that insisted a lot, I was convinced that we could do something to help him. When I met him in my office, I immediately felt like he was the type of guy I would really like to work with. I think that he felt the same thing then but there were other reasons, coming from his management or elsewhere, that made this not happen."

Towards the end of August, in Misano, Fabio gets a double fracture in his right ankle and shortens his first Moto3 season. Fabio wasn't doing well then but that's when he met Tom, please see some of my other favorite quotes.

At the end of 2015, Fabio leaves the Monlau structure. Back then, Eduardo justified it by saying this : "When we started renegotiating the contract with Alzamora, the question of our liberties for the future came. The contract we were offered was engaging us for a longer time than I wished for Fabio. Leopard was giving us this freedom and everything else I asked for. The Estrella Galicia project went from CEV to MotoGP, going through Moto3 and Moto2. I understand this philosophy and I suppose it suits most riders. It wasn't fine for me because Fabio is not a rider like the others. He's a special rider and he needs to be free so he can always make the best choice at the right time. The Almazora project is not flexible enough for us."

Also, like I mentioned earlier, Eduardo didn't want long term because he didn't want to end up in Moto2 with Marc VDS. Michael Bartholemy, then head of that team, says : "This guy was crazy. He didn't know anything about motorbikes and racing. He thought he was managing Lewis Hamilton, he wanted 300-pages contracts, wanted to choose the sponsors, etc..."

We'll finish this with one last quote from Emilio, still having regrets about not being able to finish this missions with Fabio six years later [note : the book was published in 2021] : "It was a waste. We had sponsors like Estrella Galicia who had already invested a lot in the project. They were counting on Fabio to launch themselves on the international market, notably the French market. Everything fell through because of a manager not very clear-sighted... At the same time, this taught us how to better write our contracts. On my side, I'm very happy that Fabio managed to bounce back and that his talent didn't end up being wasted."

#motogp #fabio quartararo #primer #in a way #I didn't go in the details of fabio being promised a honda with leopard and getting a ktm and all that #also like the money problems and stuff #sometimes I think translation is fun and then I do this kind of things and I'm like “right this got boring pretty fast”#focus wise #and god this part of the book was so frustrating to read

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adnauseum11 · 1 month

Text

SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly.

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.

Taglist: @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

@itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05

@chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites @glitterypirateduck

@tf141gloryhole @bespectacledhuman

#john price x reader #fanfic #john price #john price x f!reader #friends to lovers #john price cod #captain price #captain john price #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader

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she-walked-away · 19 days

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Tag Game Tuesday Monday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition

It took me nearly a week to get to it, but thanks Anne @thisbuildinghasfeelings for tagging me!!!

When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?

Funnily enough, I was watching the Super Bowl in 2020 and was folding laundry when they showed a promo from Lone Star and it was the part where they were talking to the old lady and I heard "Sure ma'am but just so you know I'm a homosexual" and I looked up because that was VERY random for a commercial to say and I the rest of the scene aired and I thought it was one of the best things I've ever seen lmao.

I actually did not start watching the show until 1x08 when TK got shot and I was HOOKED. I remember having to miss the season 1 finale to go to the grocery and checking my twitter account to see if Tarlos got together in the end ajkdhafdas

Which season is your favorite?

Season 3!

I'll never forget the EXPERIENCE that Push was. I was on a whole rollercoaster of emotions and I remember watching the TK waking up and Grace giving birth montage live and when it went off, my husband sitting behind me and very quietly going "whoa." We were both SHOOK. And then the proposal happened in 3x18 and I slunk off my couch because I was dying happily.

I think my rank is 3, 4 bc of the wedding and SOULMATES!!!, 2, and then 1. I really did like season 2 but you can tell Tim kind of bum rushed the ending dalkhdf

Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)

TK and Carlos will always be number one and I cannot pick a favorite between them. They're both so complex and interesting.

I think my second favorite has got to be Tommy. She always just *fit* in the show better than Michelle and I think she's hilarious and smart and her friendship with Grace and Judd are my favorites. Plus, I love how she and Owen play off each other.

Top five episodes. Go!

Push - nothing will ever top this I'm afraid

Bad Call

Saving Grace

Red vs Blue- LET THEM HAVE FUNNY QUIRKY EPISODES LIKE THIS BUT MORE CARLOS

In Sickness and Health

If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?

After season 4- I kind of NEED a Carlos one. I always want one and I think we learned a lot about him last season, but 4x18 opened a lot more questions about his childhood for me. Especially since he genuinely doesn't seem to remember a lot of the good times with his dad and it makes me curious if there is some underlying reason why other than just distance as he grew up.

But also NANCY. What is her backstory?? Her dad told her to start saving when she was little and she has thousands of dollars that she can lend out?? I want to know if there is more to it! And how did she get her start? Was she with the original 126 paramedic squad?

What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?

Obviously Gabriel's murder being solved and it would be great if Tarlos did it TOGETHER. And if one of them is in dangerous peril at the same time in front of the other- would not complain. I'm all for a "being threated and stalked" kind of storyline- I was thinking of along the lines of The Watcher by @ladytessa74 I want to be scared!! And to watch them be scared and IN LOVE AND A TEAM

I saw this earlier, but an episode from like B-shifts POV. You know that Owen and the firefam respond to the most INSANE calls, so I want to see what B shift and Captain Harper's POV is towards A shift. I think it would be hilarious.

Also- give me some silliness within the Catan Crew. Like maybe someone gets a little TOO into a game and then we have an episode of them all pranking each other or a little funny divide- similar to 4x16, but without them actually fighting.

What do you think is going on in this still?

It's Ghost face from Scream asking Carlos what his favorite scary movies are

I think it's either about Gabriel's murder or them finding out that Robert is dead. Rob Lowe said we'd see part of that day so I wonder if we will see the aftermath since I don't think Robert necessarily died within a week after the wedding.

We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?

I think it could DEF be some *spicy* shower sex. If TK get's injured in 504, Carlos should help make him feel all nice and healed in the SHOWER

Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?

I think somewhere in Texas like Galveston. It's not too far away, but I think it's far enough to where TK and Carlos would feel okay leaving both their parents for a short trip. I headcanon that they spent A LOT of money on a quick 8 week wedding *cries in timeline* and so they'd have to save up for a bigger and longer honeymoon.

Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.

I HAVE SO MANY SO I AM SO SORRY IF I FORGET TO MENTION. It's hard to me to count my favorite stories beacuse I think this fandom has so many. I usually put them on my kindle when I'm traveling so I can reread on a long road trip and read in between the Pluto TV commercials during my long treadmill runs.

I just found my password for Ao3 that i created in 2015 (i was a fanfiction.net OG and live journal girly lol really dating myself) so I am currently making my way through reviewing @welcometololaland's ALTA and I have so many other ones to review as well! @strandnreyes, @reyesstrand, @paperstorm, @carlos-in-glasses, @ladytessa74, @rmd-writes , @goodways, @heartstringsduet , @liminalmemories21 , @lemonlyman-dotcom and literally so many more. I love going back and rereading fics on my work breaks now I'm back from leave and now that I have my password back, I plan on continuing that!!

I love gifsets by @guardian-angle22, @lutavero, @reasonandfaithinharmony, and more!

Also Anne's @thisbuildinghasfeelings cross-stitch!! Literally SO FREAKING COOL.

If I forgot you, I am so sorry. But if you write or make art or anything else in this fandom- just know that I am obsessed with everything you do :) I've just been silently stalking this fandom since like 2020

#tarlos #911 lone star

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modernperplexity · 1 year

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Mine Ch. 1: Homecoming

Chapter Rating: E (18+) Minors DNI, mention of alcohol, substance abuse, suggestive language, abandonment.

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Ahh the day is here and Chapter 1 is finally posted! I apologize for the delay. I had originally planned for this to be up sooner but life happened and my week became more busy than expected. You guys, this first chapter is kind of massive as I am introducing characters and setting up the plot. As I mentioned in my previous post, this is my very first fic so please be kind and bear with me. My asks are open to suggestions, questions, comments, etc. I definitely want to grow and improve as a writer <3

Again, special thanks to @ssuperficialspacecadett, your advice on fic writing was truly helpful! <3 Please, please, please be sure to check out her writing! She is SO very talented!

If you'd like to join the tag list click here :)

Happy Frankie Friday y'all!

Mine Masterlist

Mine Chapter 1: Homecoming

It felt like the billionth-mile marker you had passed on the way to your new apartment. “Almost home, just three more hours to go.” you quietly encouraged your tired self after 18 hrs on the road. You miss the warm kiss of the Florida sun and the palm trees gently swaying in the cool breeze of the beach. The open road ahead was brimming with new possibilities but the closer you came to home, the more daunting it all became. Your hands nervously gripped the steering wheel as you took a deep breath in and slowly out. “It’s the right choice, new job, new era, just with familiar people...It was the right call.” You muttered to yourself, doing your best to quiet the insecure thoughts with your favorite podcast.

You had loved Seattle- absolutely adored it. Your job was amazing, and your apartment beautiful, but tainted. So you pushed through an extra six months after calling off the engagement in an attempt to make the city your own, only to realize you had outgrown it. You had outgrown that relationship too, gave him so many damn chances to fess up about his dubious behavior but drew the line when you serendipitously found a red lacey thong under his bed.

*RINGGG* your phone blared through your train of thought, consequently yanking you back to earth. “Hey, girl! How’s the road?” Michele had been ecstatic at the recent news of your return and proud that you had split with Sam. He was what she often referred to as a “pinche cabron” (fucking idiot). After all, Michele was not the type of person to keep her thoughts to herself. She was always intuitive and strong. Her shoulder being the one you’d lean on time and time again.

“It’s…long” you laughed nervously, “Can’t wait to get my hands on a Cubano and some Tostones.”

“Oh my god! That’s right, you’ve been deprived! I’ll pick some up for us and swing by your new place. Just send me your new address and ETA.”

“You’re an angel! Thank you!” you chirped, your voice betraying your efforts to mask the anxiety boiling up in your chest.

“Hey… you okay?”

Nothing gets past this woman.

A deep sigh relieves the tension in your body while you shift in your seat, stretching your aching back. “Yeah, just getting in my head. Coming home is the right call…right?”. You almost felt defeated, like you moved across the country and came back with nothing to show for it.

“Absolutely! Honestly, after everything that happened. I don’t blame you. I would’ve done the same thing. You know what? I know just what you need. We’re going out.”

The next few days were a blur. The moving boxes in your living room were now nearly gone thanks to Michele and a couple of other friends and family that had stopped by to welcome you back home. Thank goodness for their help, your body was so tired from the trip, it didn’t dawn on you until last night that you’d start your new Speech Language Pathologist Assistant (SLPA) job at the speech clinic the next day.

The clinic had more Speech Language Pathologists (SLPs) and SLPAs than you were used to but that was a blessing honestly. After a day of orientation and introductions, you really felt like you had landed on your feet. The sense of familiarity eased your new job jitters. The lead therapist showed you to your office and you began setting your room up with materials and games for the patients you’d be seeing that day. Lindsay, the sweet SLPA whose office was across from yours, briefly introduced herself and gave you a heads-up about the patients on your schedule. She passed along her notes on the patients who she had seen previously. Their preferences in toys, games, and their progress toward their goals.

“Thank you so much, Lindsay. This is a huge help!”

“No problem, who’s first on your schedule?”

Your hands scrambled through your notes. “Umm…Camila Morales. Have you done therapy with her before?”

“Nope, must be an initial visit. She’s a little one too, says she’s only 3 years old on her evaluation.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!” You said as you turned on your heel and continued preparing for the session.

Should be fine. Just interviewing the parent, going over goals, letting the patient get to know me… I got this.

You grabbed your patient’s chart at the front desk as the 9 o’clock patients signed in. Lindsay nudged your side and nodded in the direction of the reception desk as a handsome man in a cap grabbed a pen and a clipboard. “I think that’s your patient being signed in”. With a slight nod, you made your way to meet your first patient of the day.

“Camila Morales” you called into the waiting room.

Camila slowly and carefully climbed off the waiting room chair as she heard her name. Her dark chocolate curls gathered into two ponytails bouncing as she made her way to greet you.

“You must be Camila! I’m your speech teacher, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m so excited to show you all the toys we will use for your therapy session today.” You chirped sweetly as you crouched down to her eye level. The corners of her lips slightly curved into a sheepish smile as she held her father’s hand and a light blue stuffed bunny in the other.

“Morning, Miss. Sorry about Bunzy, she refuses to go just about anywhere without him” he explained.

Your gaze met the deep brown eyes of the man in the cap. His gaze was strong but warm, his smile immediately charming. “Good morning! Oh please don’t worry, it won’t be a bother.” You give him your name and stretch out your hand “You must be Mr. Morales.”

“Oh, no. I’m not, uh… I’m Santiago…Santiago Garcia, Cami’s godfather. Fish asked me to bring Cami to her first appointment. He got caught up at work but he’ll be here for the next session.” He breathed. He settled in the chair in your office, watching as Cami eagerly darted to the Dollhouse you brought out for her, already making herself comfortable much to his content.

It took you a moment to register what Santiago said. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I assumed you were her father. Um…did you say Fish?” You said as you grinned at the odd pet name and looked over Camila’s file.

He let out a slight chuckle “I did… My apologies, I meant Mr. Morales...old habits, I guess” he shrugged in awe at himself using a prefix before his best friend’s last name. The way it rolled off his tongue, was unnatural, like a fish out of water.

“Ah,” you smiled, “Got it. Well, today is going to be a pretty easygoing session. I just want to get to know her, let her get to know me, and we will go over her speech goals” You took a packet of speech delay information that you usually handed out to parents and handed them to Santiago. “Please pass along this information to Mr. Morales.. Can you tell me more about Camila?”

Santiago filled you in on Cami’s favorite games, songs, books, and toys. He knew her first words and how frustrated she would get when she could not communicate her wants and needs. He knew Cami quite well and talked about her as if she was his own. She was so comfortable with him, it was easy to see that they had a strong bond. As predicted, the session was a breeze and soon enough Cami was waving goodbye to you as Santiago carried a giggling Cami down the hall, praising her for earning a glittery unicorn sticker. You swear you could hear his smile as he said “Te portaste muy bien preciosa” (You behaved so well, lovely girl).

It was the 5th attempt at coming up with an outfit tonight. The clock was ticking and you knew you were behind schedule. Michele was on her way and she was never one to be late. The room was a mess and your clothes were everywhere. You glanced at your phone which read 8:50 pm. The time pressuring you to settle on a pair of black distressed wide-leg jeans, block-heeled sandals, and a cowl neck camisole.

Oh my god! Michele is going to kill me. I haven't even done my makeup!

You went for an easy look, foundation, blush, mascara, light shadow, and eyeliner. Not trying to impress anyone tonight, It was a girl's night after all. As you applied the finishing touches to your make-up, you heard the front door that you had left unlocked anticipating Michele’s arrival, creak open. Soon after, her steps echoed down the hall leading to your bathroom.

Shit, out of time.

“G’damn, mujer, you’re not ready?” She leaned, arms crossed against the door frame.

Your makeup brush hit the vanity and your hands swung up at the sound of her voice, “I’m ready, I swear... I’m ready” You giggled.

“Okay, Slothy McSlothson. I hope you stocked up your fridge with Pedialite cause we’re probably gonna need it later” she chided “I’ll put in the Lyft request and let the other girls know we’ll be heading out soon”

“You sneaky girl! I’ve been rushing thinking it was pre-scheduled!” a playful scoff leaving your mouth.

“What? I know you! I knew you were gonna run late, so I figured I’d get the Lyft when I got to your place.” She shrugged and reached for the bottle of Gin she brought for you and mixed it with mango juice.

“Here, I thought we’d pregame before the Lyft gets here. I know you can get a little nervous going out sometimes.”

A small gasp left you, “My little Cuban hero, thanks!” eagerly taking the cup and taking a sip, “Where are we going anyway?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

You heard excited squeals as you walked into the lively Cuban bar, the upbeat Salsa filling the space, almost drowning out their enthusiastic embraces. The friends you hadn’t seen in a few years, Crystal, Lexi, and Naomi, ran up to hug you and Michele. After ordering your drinks you sat at a table near the folding window of the bar. They caught you up on their love lives, work, and family. You tried hard to keep the attention on them and not on your failed engagement but it was only a matter of time before it came up.

“Wait, why are we the only ones talking… what happened with Sam?” Crystal asked.

In an instant Michele looked up at you after taking a sip of her drink, attempting to read your expression to know if she needed to change the subject or not. She could read you like a book.

Your gaze met hers, “It’s fine” you waived her off “Things with Sam are done, turns out he wasn’t as committed to me or the idea of spending the rest of his life with one person.”

“Awe shit” Lexi added, “so that means..”

“Yep, found a little souvenir his girl left behind” They all groaned, almost in unison.

“It’s okay, I think I’m better off. I’m relieved I found out before I gave up my apartment or started making any deposits on venues.”

“And you’re back now… who knows, maybe you were meant to course correct and come back home.” Crystal chimed in.

“Either way, you seem like you’re doing great. We’re glad to have you back” Michele smiled and squeezed your hand to reassure you.

The night continued as your group bar hopped from place to place. The warm summer breeze enveloped you as you walked arm linked with your friends. Michele led your group to the last stop of the night. You all but stopped in your tracks when you saw the buzzing neon Live Karaoke sign.

Well, this is going to be fun.

Frankie couldn’t help his fidgeting tonight, consistently checking his phone for updates on Cami. He wondered if she finished her dinner if she struggled during bath time, or if she gave his mom trouble when it was time to go to bed. He leaned on his mom for support if he absolutely needed to. Only letting her babysit when he was at work or when he ran errands. He was so hell-bent on being a good father and staying out of trouble that he hardly let himself relax. He reasoned he owed Cami that much, especially after Ashley decided to leave. After her frustration with his decision to go on that mission, after he came back distraught by the loss of Tom and the wreck of a mission that he was part of, only to fall into the familiar comfort of his vice. Fed up and devastated, Ashley decided to take Cami to Frankie’s mother’s house after saying she was going out for groceries only to never return. That was the day that changed everything. It was that moment that snapped him back into reality. He needed to do better, be better, for Cami. That was all that mattered.

There was no way in hell Santiago would let him cancel. Not after he, Ben, and Will had planned this night for weeks. It had only been a couple of days since Santiago’s return from traveling around the world. This night was a big deal, it was the first time in a long time they were finally all in one place. Frankie would not hear the end of it if he bailed, especially since Pope was currently staying at Frankie’s until he found a place of his own. Frankie loved his daughter but It did sound nice to let loose with the boys. He had worked so hard to be who he was now.

“Fish, you good?” Santi asked, as he gave him a solid pat on the back “Seemed like you were somewhere else for a sec.”

“Just worried about Cami” he breathed before raising his glass to his lips.

“She’s in safe hands, it’s your mom. She raised YOU, she can handle Cami” Will chimed in and took a sip of his beer.

“You guys have been going on about how you’ve been planning this for weeks and you settled… on a karaoke bar?” Frankie chuckled.

“It was Ben’s idea,” Will and Santiago said in unison.

Ben rolled his eyes, “What? It was an honest mistake, we failed to notice one little detail.”

“The bar we wanted to go to turns into a club on Saturday nights, and we all know clubbing is not your scene or mine” Will added.

“...and remind me what was wrong with our usual spot?” Frankie pressed.

“C’mon man, It’s a great bar! Brought a date out here last week. Just give it a chance. The live band is great!”

“As long as you don’t sign me up” Ben gave Frankie a devilish grin and stood up “Ben...Benny…don’t you fucking dare!” Frankie’s grip became tighter around the beer he was nursing.

“C’mon old man, it’s all in good fun! You boys make sure he gets a couple more drinks in him, I’ll be right back” Ben winked as he walked away.

Santiago laughed as Frankie dragged his hands over his face “Tranquilo, I’m sure he just went to the bathroom or somethin’ he’s just busting your balls.” Frankie sighs “He’s right though, you gotta chill... I’ll get us another round”

A group of girls walked by and caught Santiago’s eye as he made it to the bar. Particularly one of the girls. She was pretty- very pretty. He could’ve sworn he’d seen her somewhere. It bothered Santiago for all of two minutes until he decided he’d let it go and focus on the boys. He rounded up the beers he ordered and turned to walk back to the group when he heard you. He recognized your voice. He hardly recognized you without your scrubs on. “Oh shit! That’s Cami’s speech teacher!” he muttered under his breath. He thought it best to keep this to himself, for that moment at least. He returned to the table when his mouth dropped. “No.. way! Is that-”

“Ben. Fucking. Miller…who knew he had it in him!?” Frankie interrupted. His suspicions were half correct. Ben had made his way to sign someone up to the karaoke list- himself.

Ben taps the mic half haphazardly and clears his throat “Is everyone having a good time!?” the crowd cheers “I said.. Is everyone having a good time!!?” the crowd cheers even louder, “M’names Ben…Ben Miller and I’m about to make it even better.” he chuckled to himself “Alright ‘nuff talk, this one’s for my boys!” he turned to the band drink in hand as they continued the chord progressions to The Boys are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy.

“That boy…always loved the limelight. He’s eating this shit up” Will chuckled as he shook his head.

“Holy shit” Santiago nodded to the music “not bad either”. He laughed and turned to see a more relaxed Frankie who had his sight set somewhere other than the stage. It seemed that Santiago wasn’t the only one who had noticed you.

The live karaoke bar had the feel of a big theatre with two levels. Each table had a great view of the stage that had a full live band that had an expansive repertoire of songs available for those brave enough to sign up. The stage was impressive and lively, the stage lights changed colors and moved depending on the song of choice.

After getting your drinks, you and the girls decided on a table close to the stage when a guy named Ben went up to sing. He was really into the song- holding on to the mic stand and swinging it around while he sang. The lights turned blue and yellow around him, highlighting his strong features.

“Wooo Ben!” Lexi cheered,“he’s hot.. definitely your type, Michele”

“Ooh, she’s not wrong Meesh, he’s right up your alley” you added “Wha- oh… okay” you laughed as you realized you and Lexi hadn’t even noticed that Michele had left the table. “Could’ve sworn she was right next to me” you shrugged.

Ben’s song came to a close and the crowd cheered. He definitely was a crowd favorite, from what you had seen, at least. There was a lull for a few minutes while the live band played an 80’s song in the background when the lights turned down and the stage lights turned red. You heard what you thought was the intro to a Queen song and you knew immediately who’d be up there. A sweet and slightly buzzed Michele appeared on stage. “Hi, I’m Michele and this song goes out to my best friend who just moved back to Florida- put your hands together for her!” the spotlight shone on you and the crowd cheered. Your eyes went wide, and your body stiffened. You tried your best not to cower in the heat of the light. All you could manage was a shy smile and wave. After what felt like an eternity, the spotlight shifted back to the stage, as you heard Michele start to sing and dance to the melody of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. The stress of being the center of attention left your mouth dry. You needed a drink- desperately.

Frankie’s gaze followed you as you walked to the bar. He was almost mesmerized, maybe this could be a good night but there was no way he could talk to you. He couldn’t even remember the last time he flirted. His whole world had been consumed by NA meetings, work, and taking care of his little girl.

“Wow, Fish, she’s gorgeous! At least go buy her a drink. If you don’t, I will, and we both know I’ll go home with more than just her number” Ben breathed.

*smack!* Without hesitation Will slapped Benny upside the head

“Shut up Ben!” Santiago retorted, pausing to look at Frankie. “He’s right, you gotta get back out there. It’s been a while since…just…let yourself have some fun. I’ve seen how you've been gawking at her for the last 5 minutes. If you don’t go, I’ll beat Benny to the bar and we all know. it will be over for you then” he winks.

Frankie turns to Will, who had consistently been the voice of reason. “Pope’s right, at least go talk to her. What have you got to lose?”

“I’ll give you a head start” Benny started counting down with a shit-eating grin “Three…two”

Frankie jerked up and out of his seat, beer in hand almost spilling some on his shirt from the sheer force of the movement “You know what?...Fuck all of you!” he said with a wide smirk and middle finger in the air. He started toward the bar, the men’s laughter fading in the background.

His pace slowed down when he saw you sitting at the bar. He could tell you were kind by the way your eyes sparkled and smiled along with your curving lips when you talked to the bartender. You looked so pretty, so sweet, so…unattainable. There was no way he could talk to you. Frankie started to panic. His mind started to race and think of the many ways he would ruin it. What was the point of even trying to talk to someone new? He had ruined his previous relationship and basically tore his family apart. Why run the risk of going through something like that again? He was more than halfway to the bar when you caught him looking at you.

Fuck, there’s no turning back now.

Frankie groaned at the thought of the plaguing questions he’d receive from Ben and Pope. He thought it best to bring back a round of beers to ease the embarrassment.

“I’ll have four Blue Moons,” He said, his body tense as he took a seat on the red stool.

“You wanna close the tab or leave it open?”

“You can go ahead and close it..thanks.” He said as he shifted in his seat, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The bartender placed the beers on the bar and placed the customer's receipt and a pen in front of him. Frankie was about to sign when he noticed something.

Tequila Sunrise………$6.45

His gaze lifted to look for the bartender, “Uh.. this isn’t my-”

“I think he mixed up our receipts” a kind voice sweetly interrupted.

“I couldn’t toss back four bottles in one sitting if I tried” You shrugged, and smiled at the handsome stranger, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all” he motioned to the seat next to him.

“Rough night, I take it?”

“Oh uh…nah these aren’t all for me but if I was having a rough night, this would be the part where it starts to get better” he flashed you a half smile before taking a sip of his beer. That was the moment when you really noticed his features. The hook of his nose, how his locks curled and peaked under his hat, the small target tattoo on the hand that held his beer.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“So.. tequila, huh,” he said as he handed you your receipts.

“Yeah... I uh, needed something a bit stronger after my friend’s shout-out. It was sweet, but If I’m being honest don’t like being the center of attention.”

“I get that. Well..welcome back. I’m Frankie by the way” he stretched out his hand and shook yours. Your heartbeat reacted to the way his touch felt on your skin.

You both watched the following performances, giggling as you created silly backstories for each person and why they selected the song they were belting out on stage. This was nice, definitely a breath of fresh air in comparison to the handful of dates you had recently been on- your attempt at getting “back out there”. This wasn’t even a date but you couldn’t help but notice how effortless and natural it felt. You talked about your childhood and your favorite beaches to visit. How you used to love stargazing while listening to the sound of the crashing waves, it was your favorite thing to do especially on a bad day. Frankie shared what brought him to Florida, how he enlisted with his best friend, and what prompted him to begin his career as a pilot. His eyes lit up when he talked about flying, his passion and pride on full display. The beers he had ordered stood forgotten, highlighting the time that had passed.

“Oh wow, I uh.. should get back to my group, and by the looks of it your friends might be needing their beers chilled” you chuckled “But it was really nice talking to you, Frankie,” You said hopping off the barstool.

“I had a great time talking to you too, Hermosa. I hope you have a great rest of your night” His deep chocolate-brown eyes scanned yours. “You too,” You said as you smiled and turned, ready to head back to your group.

“Wait!” he reached out, his fingers gently curling around your wrist, “I didn’t get your name”. The pen the bartender left out came in handy as you reached for it with one hand and held his with the other. Frankie couldn’t help but stare as you bit your lip while you wrote down your name and number on his palm, carefully drawing a small heart next to your name.

“Call me sometime.”

“Aaand he’s back! Pope and I thought we were gonna have to go over there and remind you that tonight was for the boys!” Ben teased as Frankie shook his head as he handed the beers to the men.

“So, how’d it go?” Santi prodded.

“She’s great, we hit it off..”

“You get her number or is my beer dangerously close to being lukewarm for nothin’?” Will chided with a sly grin.

“Awe shit..” Frankie’s brows furrowed at the sight of ink smeared on his palm, “the fuckin beers” His eyes desperately searched the venue, but you were nowhere in sight.

“The hell happened Fish…OH, damn that sucks.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck “Well.. uh..did ya at least get her name?”

Frankie dragged his hand against his face cursing himself for not being more careful.

Pope padded him on the back “Well who knows.. if it’s fate” he shrugged with a half smile, “you’ll see her again”.

You had spent part of your weekend awaiting a text or a call from Frankie. To your dismay, the only notifications causing your screen to glow were Instagram notifications, promotion e-mails, and texts from Michele, who had been eagerly awaiting an update on your situation. By the time Monday rolled around you had given up hope that the brown-eyed pilot you had met that weekend had any interest. You chalked up your connection to him being overly friendly. It wasn’t like he really initiated. Maybe he wouldn’t have talked to you at all had it not been for the bartender’s mistake. You shrugged and shook it off, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Monday morning’s alarm came a lot faster than you had hoped. You put on your scrubs and grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before rushing out the door. You were determined to have a great morning. Listened to your upbeat playlist in the car singing your little heart all the way to work.

You made your way down the clinic hall, excited to meet your first patient of the day. Opening the door to see a sweet little curly-haired girl swaying her legs in her seat.

“Cam- Oof!” Little Cami crashed into you as her little arms wrapped around your legs, “Hello to you too Cami!” you smiled at her as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hermosa?” Your eyes went wide at the sound of the voice, his voice.

Chapter 2

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