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lazuli-bloom · 3 years

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Roses and Styx

Chapter 2 – The Man In The Rotting Suit

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5051

You get to go home early, which is nice. Now if only you could shake that guy from the graveyard. It doesn't help that no one else is able to even see him. There has to be some way to get rid of him, right?

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--=--=--

Deep breaths. Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth. You're fine. Just ignore the man grinning at you seated in your passenger seat. Everything was normal and fine. He's not really there.

"So, where to, babes?"

You sucked a long sharp breath and glanced over to the delusion. He definitely looked at home in a graveyard, with the patches of moss on pale skin and sporting a frayed suit coated in dirt and grime. The man flashed you another grin showing off sharp teeth that likely have never seen a toothbrush.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored the apparition while you get your shitty car started. A few minutes later, the car clanged and sputtered awake. You shoot whatever was in your passenger seat a glare before pulling out of the small lot and headed home.

The man next to you groaned after you passed the first stoplight. You glanced over to him. He crossed his arms, and wore a frown on his face. The green color in his hair dulled from when he was in the store. His tone looked to be a more purple hue.

"Come on, babes, I know you can see and hear me!"

You stayed silent and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light. He was right—much to your vexation—you could perceive him. In more ideal circumstances you'd seek professional help from a doctor or therapist, but that costs money. So you're forced to bank on the hope that ignoring the delusion makes him disappear.

He huffed and pouted more. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone could see me. I ain't leaving so soon."

You press your lips tighter into a line and kept your eyes on the road. His peculiar wording bounced around in your head for the next few stops. Soon that bled into playing the events of the funeral. He was there, bugging the mourners and going unnoticed.

"Fine. What are you?"

You catch the dimmer purple wash away from his hair and brighten to a vivid green.

"Aw babes, I knew you'd come around!"

"Please answer the question."

"Oh, and so polite! Alright sweets, since you asked so nicely; I am a ghost!"

You spared a glance over to him as you turned onto the dingy road leading to your apartment. The skeptic in you wanted to counter and say that wasn't possible, but you doubted voicing that would magically make your unwanted passenger disappear.

"Alright then, mister ghost, why are you following me?"

"Already told ya, you're the first breather able to see me in a long time."

"So, are you planning to haunt me? Make my life worse than it already is? Because so help me god I'll kick your ass straight to Hell if you try."

You parked your car and turned, giving him a pointed glare. His citrine eyes lit up as his grin stretched so large it threatened to split his face.

"Feisty! I like that in a breather."

You grumbled under your breath and looked around the parking lot. Your car was one of maybe four parked there. There weren't any milling tenets out, either. Nevertheless, you weren't keen on staying out in your car the entire day talking to a ghost.

"I'm going inside. If you want to follow me, then you're going to have to answer my questions. Got it?"

"Anything you want, babes."

You breathed out through your nose and unbuckled yourself. As you stepped out you caught sight of the ghost floating out the front of your car where he waited for you on the curb. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rolled back, putting his weight on his heels. The ghost flashed you another grin, and you doubted any good could come from this.

No second guesses or weaseling out by that point. You told him to follow you as you made your way to the apartment. Up the flight of stairs and to the end of the hall, you were almost home free.

"Parker!"

The harsh rasp of a smoker shouted at you. Every fiber of your being tensed up, and you fought to put on a smile in front of the dragon. She marched up to you with narrow eyes locked on you.

"Hi Donna."

"Who the hell left your apartment yesterday? I swear if you're smuggling a roommate in there I'm going to raise your rent."

"That was my friend, Sam. They're moving and stopped by to say goodbye. Wait, how did you know Sam even visited? Didn't you go out last night?"

"I got complaints about you."

You keep your mouth shut for the moment. This was a conversation you preferred not to drag out. You simply nodded to her as you carefully thought over your next words.

"Sam only dropped by to say goodbye."

"And who is 'Cassie'?"

You tensed up to the point your muscles could turn to stone any minute. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and you struggled to keep up a friendly act.

"They're a co-worker."

Donna huffed at you, followed by a sneer showing off tobacco-stained teeth. She waved you off and turned, pulling out her smokes as she left. Donna uttered an insult your way before descending the stairs.

"Ain't she a delight."

You whipped your attention to the gravelly voice and found the specter with narrowed eyes pointed at the landing. His brow and nose scrunched up as he glared and you noted odd flecks of red in his hair.

You got your keys out and unlocked your door. "She's a bitch, but this apartment was the best I could afford. Easier to just grin and bear it."

"You know sweets, we could help one another with our problems." He said. You raise a brow at him before you stepped into the apartment. While he didn't exactly need you to, you stepped to the side and held the door open for him. "Babes, you are adorable. I'd give ya a big ol' 'thank you' kiss if I could."

"Please don't," you said, closing the door.

He let out a hardy laugh and then winked your way. You frowned and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He scanned over the apartment while you studied him. The ghost's ragged appearance gave the impression that he recently crawled out of the grave. His pale skin grew bits of moss that blended into his hair. Dark rings circled his amber eyes. And a layer of rot and grime coated his odd frayed suit.

"Like what ya see, sweets?"

Heat rushed to your face, and you furrowed your brow at that. "You could use a bath."

"You breathers and bathing. What's even the point of it?"

"Health. It cleans away dead skin, and any diseases stuck on you, helps with sore muscles and aches, and can just help improve your mood overall."

"Shit. I didn't expect you to actually have an answer."

"Had one or two school wide lessons back in high school telling the kids that body spray was not a substitute for a shower."

He blinked at you. He shrugged a moment later and took a step closer, with his hands behind his back. "Anyway, back to my point. I think we can help each other out."

"How?"

"You and me could get rid of that awful hag! Decapitation, eaten alive by rats, electrocution, I'm open to suggestions!"

"Real casual with murder, huh? Yeah, no, not interested."

"Wait! Okay, it doesn't have to be murder. I could scare her so bad that she runs off and never comes back! We can workshop that later. But first I need you to say my name!"

"What would saying your name do to 'help'? And I don't know your name, you never said it."

The nameless ghost rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Did the dead still need to breathe? That didn't seem right.

"Right now I can't affect much of anything. You saw how that guy walked right through me, right?"

You nodded.

"But if you say my name three times, I get my powers back and won't be stuck being invisible." There was a certain excitement in his tone when he said that. One that lit up his amber eyes with... something.

Your lips twitch downward as you mulled over his words. He said earlier you were the first person to see him in a long time. How long you couldn't be sure without asking, but truly any stretch of time sounded so lonely. However, you couldn't just let him have free range to do whatever he pleased. He already proposed murder as means of dealing with your landlady. This ghost could be impossibly destructive if unleashed.

"I don't know. How can I—"

A vicious yowl made you jump. It came from the other side of the wall.

"Shit!"

You rushed around the corner and opened the bathroom door. A white blur ran past you to the underside of the coffee table. Aqua colored eyes glared at you, only to shift focus in the ghost's direction.

You ignored that for the moment and instead turned your attention to the bathroom. The smell hit you first, the acrid scent of cat piss. You groaned as you looked over the state of the bathroom. The toilet paper shredded in tethers on the cheap linoleum, food and water bowls flipped with contents scattered, and a yellow puddle next to the litter box. Fantastic.

"Why was your cat locked in the bathroom?"

"I'm pet-sitting for a friend, and I can't have pets in the apartment," You said while you dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. "I'm keeping him mostly confined to the bathroom, so it's not obvious a cat's here for two weeks."

"Why are you pet-sitting if you can't have pets here?"

"Because my friend couldn't board their cat anywhere else. They promised me a couple hundred bucks to do it too, so I bit the bullet."

"If you're hard up for cash, I know an easier way to get it."

You glanced back at him with a raised brow but kept quiet to focus on cleaning. A minute later, once cleaned of Rigel's mess, you tossed the toilet paper in the bathroom trash and asked, "And what method would that be?"

"Just taking it! I won't get caught, babes, and even if I did, there's nothing a breather could do about it. Come on, all you gotta do is say my name three times in a row!"

You stay quiet for a minute as you washed your hands. You dried your hands and turned to face him, saying once more, "I don't know your name."

"Well, I can't say it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed. I can't say my own name."

"Is it... Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Sweets, that hurts. You really think my sexy self could be that little imp?"

"Well, other than taking more shots in the dark, how else would I figure out your name?"

"We could..." He trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. His face lit up a moment later as he said, "We could play a game or something so you can figure it out!"

His grin stretched wide as he wore an earnest hope on his features. It was rather sweet, strangely enough, and made the notion of turning him down seem harsh. You mulled over your decision. While you didn't want to say no, you weren't keen on agreeing either. If you said yes, he'd expect you to say his name afterwards.

"And if I figure out your name, then what? Setting you free doesn't seem like a smart idea."

He instantly deflated when he heard that. Smile gone, brows furrowed. Even the vibrancy of his green hair looked like it dulled to a blueish purple. He looked crushed, and knowing you caused it struck you with a bit of guilt. You couldn't blindly trust him, but you didn't want to see him so hurt.

"Look. We just met. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Cause we're BFFFFs Forever!"

"B-F-F—... You want to be friends?"

He nodded vigorously, with a glimmer of hope rekindled in his eyes. Your guts twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer he gave you the lost puppy look. If he truly was alone and unseen for any stretch of time, then desperately wanting a friend made sense. And for whatever strange reason, you were the one able to see him.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal. We can be friends, but I won't free you until you've earned my trust. If I feel like I can trust you by the end of the month, then I'll say your name."

His grin reappeared, showing off sharp yellowed teeth. His hair also grew to a vibrant green. "Aw babes, you're the best! We are going to be great friends!"

You gave him a half smile, finding his excitement endearing if not a tad contagious. You finished up with cleaning the rest of the mess, and while doing so, you threw out a few more guesses of what his name might be. They were all wrong, but "Cthulhu" got a laugh out of him.

Once done with tidying the bathroom, you check on the furball under the shoddy coffee table. The devil cat hissed at you and swiped a clawed paw at you for daring to get so close. His eyes were thin slits and seemed to shift between yourself and somewhere behind you. You followed his gaze and landed on the ghost. You even asked him to move and the cat's gaze followed him.

"Huh. Looks like Rigel can see you."

"Rigel?"

"The fuzz-bucket of pure rage over here. His name is Rigel."

"Like the star in Orion?"

"Yeah, actually. The bright white star, that's why Sam named him that."

"Do you know any other stars in Orion?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

"Eh... can't say."

You raised a brow at him. You wanted to find out the other stars in the constellation after he asked that—but with no internet access at the apartment or even a smartphone, you couldn't do that. All you owned was a cheap little prepaid flip phone straight out of the early aughts.

You shrugged it off and made a note to search that the next day on the store's computer. In the meantime, you sat down on the couch, kicking your shoes off to pull your feet up too. You didn't want to take the chance of that cat getting ballsy and going after you.

"So Mr. Whatsyourname, how am I going to figure out your name?"

He floated down to the other end of the couch and shrugged. You pressed your lips tight and hummed in thought as you worked out a means to find out his name.

"Well, playing twenty questions is getting us nowhere. Then again, throwing out random guesses isn't how you play that, but whatever. You can't spell it out, can you?"

"No, I suck at spelling it. And I can't, cause that would count as telling you it."

"Hmm, do you think you could use pictures to 'spell' it? Like using—a fly, a car, and a dog, to get the result of a flying carpet?"

"That might work, but I can't affect things, babes."

"But I can. Give me a sec, I'll get some paper." You rushed off to your bedroom and come back with a pencil and sketch pad. You took your seat back on the couch and turned to sit side by side with the ghost rather than facing him. "Alright, you tell me what shapes to draw."

You flipped to a blank page, skipping the older pages filled with various sketches and doodles. Once you got to a clean page, you held the book at an angel he could easily see.

The first thing he said to draw was a rectangle, a narrow one standing upright. Then a shorter and much thinner one at the top of the first. Followed by a third the same size as the second but connecting with it at an angle.

"Is that a juice box?"

"Nix the box."

"Juice?"

He nodded with a Cheshire grin. "Great! Now draw a circle on the front of the box."

You did so, as well as draw the six lines going out from the circle like he asked.

"Bug?"

"No, more specific. Draw lines on it in a 'T' shape."

You drew the segments on the bug, which gave it a distinct head and a line along its back. You look over the drawing and ask, "Is it a beetle?"

"Yes!"

"Beetle... juice?"

"Yes! You got it!"

You hum to yourself and look over the picture more. Such a strange name. Was that his name in life, too? Or did he get a new name upon death? Does everyone? Can you choose your name?

"I can see why your name's Art."

You shook out of your thoughts and jerked your head to the ghost—Beetlejuice—sitting beside you. You huffed a small laugh and closed the sketchbook.

"That's not my name."

"But that guy at the store—"

"I don't put my real name on my apron."

"Okay, Parker—"

"Not my name either."

"What? But that bitch called you Parker."

"I don't want people knowing my name. So, I don't give out my real name."

"Not even to your BFFFF Forever?"

"How about instead of telling you, you try to guess it? No hints either."

Beetlejuice groaned and whined at that, but you didn't budge. You instead gave him a sly smile of your own. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at you, and you did your best to not break into laughter. How was that disheveled ghost able to look so cute?

"Babes, tell me! You know my name now, I want to know yours."

"I had to play a game to figure out your name, only fair you have to do the same to learn mine."

"I'm cursed though. I can't say my name. Well, my middle name anyway."

You blinked and tilted your head as you processed his last comment. His middle name? How odd. You shrugged at him and said, "You can either try to figure out my name or maybe if I end up trusting you, I'll tell you. But for now, you don't need it."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"You've been doing just fine with nicknames like—babes, sweets, and breather."

"Fine. But I want to know your name at some point."

"When I'm more comfortable, it's a personal thing. What about you, though? Can I call you by a nickname?"

"Sure! You could use—sexy, or handsome, or hot stuff."

"Or none of those," you said, shaking your head. You did your best not to crack and laugh. "How about Beetle, or Bug? Simple and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?" He asked with a purr that caused your face to burn.

"I think you're weird, and strange, but not the most terrible at least."

"I'll take it!"

There was that bright smile again. Wide and full of sharp teeth. This ghost was a very perplexing being. The more you saw his smile, the more your own lips curled into a smile of your own.

"Okay, so if you're going to hang around here, we should set up some ground rules and get other things squared away. Like—I don't want you going in my bedroom unless I invite you in and stay out of the bathroom too."

"Aw, that's no fun."

"Do you sleep or anything?"

"I can, but I don't need to. Same goes for food when I'm not stuck being invisible."

"Can you affect anything while you're like that? Lights? Electronics?"

"No. The air gets cold around me. Other than that, can't do much of anything while invisible."

You nodded with a small frown. That must be so boring—stuck watching the world go by, unable to affect anything or even seen by anyone. That experience didn't sound pleasant. As much as you wanted to keep a low profile, you couldn't bear to be that level of unnoticed.

"Well..." you said, getting your thoughts back on track, "If you don't need to sleep, what do you want to do while I'm asleep? You want me to set up a movie for you in the living room? Or I guess you could go snoop around the other apartments and see what everyone else is doing. Lord knows there's always someone awake in this place no matter the hour."

"You're giving me a free pass to spy on your neighbors?"

"You said you can't affect anything other than making it cold, so I don't see a problem. Hell maybe if you annoy enough people with cold spots Donna will have to deal with a bunch of complaints. Maybe she'll even waste money trying to fix things, that'd be fun."

"We are going to be such great friends."

You huffed out a small laugh. As strange as he was—and maybe a little too gung ho with murdering your landlady—Beetlejuice seemed like he would make for... interesting company.

You checked the time on your phone. Five in the afternoon. Only an hour left of your shift. Well, if you hadn't left early. You tossed your phone on the coffee table with a clatter. Your action earned a venomous hiss from Rigel.

"So, um, if you don't need to sleep but can, do you want me to set up the couch as a bed? I don't have anywhere else to set one up and if Donna thinks I have other people living here, she's going to be pissed."

"Good thing I'm dead."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes. "Well yeah, technically. Existing here then, which dead or alive; you do exist. And that would still piss off Donna."

He huffed and narrowed his eyes, but glanced away from you. "I know you said you want to trust me first, sweets, but I could do a helluva lot more than just annoy her with cold spots. Just give me a chance!"

"I don't know... I don't like her but I don't think that would be a good idea." You sat looking blankly at the couch cushions as you hummed in thought. Even if he had good intentions going in—or more accurately, intentions that benefited you—things could go wrong and land you in a worse spot. Good intentions paved the road to Hell, after all.

"Babes, please, I'm begging. Ya gotta let me do something! I can even hold back on hurting her if that's what you want! I'll just scare the shit out of her!"

You thought over the proposition, and it sounded enticing. You tapped a finger against your cheek as various scenarios of Donna, scared out of her mind, played out. "That does sound fun, maybe later—Wait! It's October!"

"It is? Huh. I thought it was still July."

"Wait what? How...?"

"When you've been around for over a millennium, you stop bothering to keep tabs on time."

"A millennium? That's, holy crap. Okay, I have questions, but first what I was originally saying; It's October. So that means at the end of the month is Halloween. So, what if, if things go well and I trust you by then we plan a big scare for this All Hallows' Eve?"

The ghost shot up, bouncing on the couch. The sudden movement freaked out Rigel enough for him to scurry off to another hiding spot. "Hell yes! Babes, you're the best!" This ghost vibrated with barely contained excitement and you could have sworn he was glowing green.

You held up your hand to hold in a laugh. Beetlejuice radiated a pure joy that was not only endearing but also infectious. While precious to see him so happy, you asked him to compose himself and sit. Incorporeal or not, it’s difficult to carry a conversation while a ghost jumped on the furniture.

He sank back and sat on the couch, though he chose the arm of the couch as his seat. He faced you, still sporting a grin and vibrant green hue, and you couldn't stop smiling at this happy dork. Wanting to keep your discussion going, you cleared your throat and picked things back up with a question.

"You said you've been around for a millennium. So does that mean you lived during the... eleventh century?"

"I was around then, but I've never been alive. I was born dead."

"Born dead? Do... you mean like a stillborn?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm a demon straight from Hell."

"You're a demon-ghost? Ghost-demon?"

"Both, yeah. But enough about me, as great as I am. How'd a pretty little breather like you end up in this shitty apartment?"

You frown and grabbed at your sleeve, not wanting to look him in the eye anymore. "It's kinda complicated and I don't want to go into all of it. I'm just... scraping my life back together and this place is the best I can afford right now." You stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at the ghost. The vibrant joy on his features faded drastically. Guilt stung in your heart for dampening the mood and offered the best masking smile you could muster. You weren't sure it looked all that convincing.

Beetlejuice stayed quiet a moment longer before a smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, now you know who you can call if ya need help dealing with a few problems."

"The ghostbusters?" You asked and cracked a genuine smile.

"Pff. Them? Nah, babe, the ghost with the most! Just gotta say my name three times, spoken unbroken!"

The self proclaimed "ghost with the most" puffed out his chest in a bid to look impressive. It earned a soft chuckle out of you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A low growl filled the room. Heat seared your cheeks as you wrapped an arm over your stomach. Lunch wasn't as filling as you had hoped. You sighed and stood with a stretch. If you didn't make dinner soon, you'll end up nauseous from hunger later.

Your new familiar spirit stayed put sitting on the arm of the couch. However, when you glanced back at him, his head turned around to face you. It unnerved you, and the longer you looked at him the worse the feeling got.

You shook it off as best you can and headed to the fridge, which hid behind a wall jutting out to separate the living room and kitchen. And right then doubled as a divider that blocked you from view of the couch.

Once you dug out the mixed vegetables from the freezer, you turned and caught sight of a large blur on your counter. You seized up, knees locking, and heard a loud laugh bellow out.

"Aw babes, you should've seen the look on your face."

Beetlejuice wiped away some tears, then snapped his fingers. You blinked a few times, unsure what to think of seeing your face on his body. He twisted his—your? features into an expression of shock before cackling. Your mouth hung open, but you couldn't find any words. So you just shook your head and carried on making dinner.

As you worked on getting your dinner prepared, you pick back up the conversation. You and Beetlejuice took turns asking questions to get to know one another. Beetlejuice opened by sharing about his banishment—no clear details, just stated the fact it happened. He also said he got a kick out of the spread of the bubonic plague through Europe.

You grabbed a bowl and poured in your steaming dinner. The savory flavoring of the noodles mixed with the thawed vegetables and wafted in the air. Once you turned the stove off, you sat back on the couch. In between bites, you divulged a few minor details about yourself, like how you've worked for Mr. Turner close to a year and a half, and your hope to one day work in a haunted house attraction. That topic piqued Beetlejuice's interest.

"So, you get to scare people. As a job?"

"Y-yeah. I've thought being a haunted house actor could be a lot of fun. But there's no acting job close enough willing to pay the rate I'd need to make it worth it. And it's seasonal. So it's gotta stay a dream job."

You ate your noodles and mixed vegetables, allowing the specter to take over the conversation and regale you with various stories. One of his stories got you to laugh so hard you ended up swallowing wrong. It took a minute of coughing and sputtering before you stopped choking on your food. You cleared your throat with a short groan and fought to stop laughing.

After you finished dinner, you checked the time. It wasn't too late, but with everything that happened, drowsiness gnawed at the edge of your mind. You tapped your fork against the rim of the bowl as you walked through the mental checklist of what you needed to do before bed. Beetlejuice asked what you were doing and frowned when you told him.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I have work tomorrow and you gave me a few good scares today. I'm getting tired."

He pouted, but you noticed he cracked a smile, hearing that he scared you. You rolled your eyes and got up to put your dish in the sink. When you returned, you pulled several movie cases and set them on the coffee table.

"Pick whichever one you want, I can put it on for you before I go to bed."

You give him a small smile and leave to get ready. A few minutes later, once in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and the cat wrangled back into the bathroom, Beetlejuice picked out a movie. You got it started and tidied up the couch for him.

"You don't have to clean on my account, babes. I don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind, you're my guest, and I want things to be nice." You said and gave him another smile. "G'night, Beetle. See ya in the morning."

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #roses and styx #my writing

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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You’ve Changed Man - @doubleredweek Day 4

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Jason doesn’t mind stakeouts generally. He likes the peace and quiet of being alone, of stalking his prey and figuring out their ins and outs so he can take them out. It’s probably a bit of the Selina Kyle training he got in his youth slipping in and he absolutely loves it.

A stakeout with Roy isn’t even too bad, because he loves Roy and even though Roy loves to talk sometimes, he gets the need for quiet when on a stakeout. He understands Jason’s desire for silence, for focus. Plus if things get really boring they can just make out. It’s a win-win situation no matter what really.

Jason however decidedly hates stakeouts with his brothers, except for maybe Duke who at least knows the value of silence even if he thinks quote on quote ‘stakeouts are stupid, that’s what the internet is for’. Damian’s impulse control makes Jason look like a patient saint, Dick treats it like he’s a still a cop and Tim might be worst of all.

Tim Drake is incredibly smart, though Jason doesn’t like to tell him that. He’s hardwired like a better detective than Batman himself, which he also doesn’t like to tell him. He’s focused, determined and sharp as a tack at most times. Except evidently on a stakeout when he’s on his tenth black eye with three extra shots of the night. Jason has no idea when Tim last slept, but he’s starting to feel like it was a worrying amount of time ago.

Tim’s gone from focusing his attention solely on the target across the street to looking in the living rooms of any place he can find and seeing what’s on tv. He’s quoted a range of television shows and movies verbatim and he’s spouted out so many facts about things only barely related to what he’s catching on people’s televisions that Jason can’t keep track.

He’s basically driving Jason insane as he tries to keep his own focus on Sophia Falcone in her luxury penthouse apartment that she’s rumored to have not left in pushing three months now. She’s up to no good, that much they know, just what kind of family business no good they’re not sure. Which is why they’re staked out on a rooftop in 70-degree nighttime heat in form fitting leather. Not to watch people’s tv’s.

Tim’s leg is bouncing up and down the jitters of the coffees keeping him in constant motion. Frankly between the heat, the deeply uneven ratio of coffee to water and the constant movement Jason’s not quite sure how Tim hasn’t passed out from dehydration yet.

Scientists should probably study Tim for inhuman ability related to coffee which is coming from a guy who should probably be studied for the whole coming back from the dead thing.

Tim’s been quite for a while now, finally, but the silence is broken when he starts muttering under his breath. Jason looks over from where Sofia has been barking orders at a maid to see Tim swaying back and forth and gives him a judgmental look.

Soon enough the muttering gets a little louder and Jason can clearly tell he’s singing, poorly so but singing nonetheless.

“And the line where sky beats the sea, it calls me!” he sings a little too loud for their position. Jason smacks him on the shoulder gaining his attention.

“Keep it down,” he says before turning his attention back to Sofia, but he can only see the poor haggard maid now. “Also, that’s not the lyrics.”

Tim doesn’t say a thing which he knows he should be grateful for, but he really needs to know if Tim’s coffee addled brain understands that he has to keep it down so he pulls his focus back to Tim.

He expects him to be once again watching Moana through some poor person’s window, but instead Tim is looking directly at him eyes bright, wide and positively delighted under his domino mask sporting the dorkiest fucking smile Jason has ever seen on a human being.

“What?” he asks confused, feeling like he’s clearly missing something.

“You know the lyrics to Moana,” Tim says with absolute glee.

Jason just shrugs. “So? Lian loves it and Roy does this whole thing where he sings it to her when she’s in the tub. There’s a whole production with plastic boats and a water-logged Barbie involved and everything,” he says trying to play it off as nothing to think about, but knowing he sounds exceedingly fond. It’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen and Roy’s voice is actually pretty nice, in another life he might have been a low rent rockstar. He has the hair for it.

“You’re so domestic now,” Tim giggles taking another sip of his latest cold brew. Jason thinks Alfred and magic must be involved in how he fit so many into his little cooler. “It’s adorable.”

“I’m not domestic now,” Jason balks at Tim his gut instinct to instantly deny. He’s the Red Hood, the nightmare that criminals tell their lackeys about. He’s a badass raised on the streets who’s spent time in the tutelage of some of the greatest criminal masterminds alive. He can take any gun you sit in front of him apart and put it back together in under fifteen seconds. He was raised on the streets dammit, he’s the broken son of the Bat. He’s not domestic, he’s a badass.

“I’m the fucking Red Hood,” he says instead of all that, it seems like he’d be reaching too far and being a bit too defensive if he went on the rant he just had in his head.

“Yeah you are,” Tim says with that goofy smile just getting goofier. “And the fucking Red Hood is a big ol’ domestic softie now who’s in love,” Tim singsongs the word love. “And makes casseroles and knows all the words to Moana,” he finishes off in explanation with playful poke to Jason’s shoulder

Jason shoves his hand away and bristles at the implication he’s gone soft. So what if he spends more time at home than he ever has before and he puts a little more effort into his cooking now that he’s cooking for three instead of quick meals for one in empty safehouses. So what if he makes his choices based entirely on whether it will cut into his time with Roy and Lian. And yeah, maybe he knows more about Disney animation now than he ever did even when he was a child himself, but he’s a sort of stepfather and sort of husband these days and it all comes with the territory.

It doesn’t mean he can’t still kick ass and demolish the criminal underbelly of Gotham.

“Am not,” he replies like the mature adult he is. “You are.”

Tim just scoffs at him, actually says the word scoff. The coffee has to be making him delusional by now.

“Don’t live in denial brother o’ mine, you’ve changed man,” Tim giggles again swirling his coffee around the ice clinking loudly in the rare quiet of a Gotham city night.

“No I haven’t,” Jason says even though he knows that’s not true. He’s better than he used to be. It’s not a thing to get defensive about, but he feels like his brother’s should still think of him as tough for some reason. His sister never has, so he’s not too worried that Cassandra has definitely caught him making unicorn shaped pancakes in the kitchen one morning and caught him obsessing over rings in a jewelry store window for a reason he hasn’t quite admitted to yet that one time. She’s a great secret keeper too, since Tim definitely would be bringing up those events right now if she had blabbed.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Tim says between big slurps of his coffee. “You’re still the spooky boogeyman that criminals fear, but you’re also the guy whose ringtone is from the Little Mermaid. It’s a cool balance, pretty sure it’s the balance we’re all trying find.”

“Lian changed my ringtone and every time I switch it back she just does it again, so I left it,” Jason says feeling a little less defensive now. Maybe Tim’s right, maybe it’s not necessarily a bad thing. He is the happiest he’s been since he crawled out of his own grave, happier than he was even in those vague rare memories of joy he has from his own childhood.

“Sweet,” Tim says warmly picking his binoculars back up and going back to the house where the movie is playing instead of the criminal kingpin’s daughter. Jason just rolls his eyes focusing his own attention back on the task at hand.

They sit quietly after that Jason watching as Falcone Jr. paces in front of her fireplace clearly agitated about something while Tim quietly enjoys his movie.

“So what are the lyrics?” Tim asks breaking the quiet. It seems he’s run out of coffee now and has resorted to just chewing on the straw.

“It’s where the sky meets the sea not beats,” he emphasizes.

“Cool,” Tim says finally shifting his binoculars back to the same place Jason has been looking for the past four hours. Another few beats of quiet pass and Jason thinks maybe finally they’re back in business, until Tim ruins it.

“Will you sing it for me? You know to make sure I get it right?” he asks and Jason looks over at him his eyes still trained on the penthouse, but with that goofy smile on his lips again.

Why did Bruce have to adopt so many damn kids? Jason could have been an only child, that would have been nice.

Jason squares his shoulders and puts on his best Red Hood voice. “Absolutely fucking not.”

He only sings for Lian dammit.

#my fic #jayroy #jayroyweek2021 #jason todd #roy harper #writersmonth2021

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ororowrites · 3 years

Text

By the Open Fire - Yahya x Black Character

I’m getting back into the writing spirit and decided to write a little Christmas one-shot about my latest celebrity crush. Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and Happy Holidays!

Warnings: Very, very, light smut, fluffy as hell

Word Count: 2,664

Six months was entirely too long to be away from the love of her life.

Candace tapped the tip of her pen against the blank page, hoping her writer’s block would magically disappear. Being an actress was so much easier than trying to write a novel. Why didn’t Candace just stick to her day job? Since the pandemic began, she was trying her hand at other talents and writing a novel seemed to be the one wish on her wish list that stood out. On top of Yahya being out of the country filming for most of the year, Candace was in search of a way to fight a depression that was on the brink of flooding her life. Her filming project had come to a halt until 2021 and she was stuck in her Manhattan apartment until it was safe to come out again.

Yahya would be home in a couple of days and Candace was looking forward to his arrival. So many months a part made her heart ache and the heart below her waist. After hundreds of facetime calls, numerous texts a day and a few Zoom sessions that included their shared friends, her man would be there in the flesh.

“Fuck,” Candace cursed under her breath. The block wasn’t budging, forcing the actress to give up and retreat to the kitchen for wine. Her phone rang, interrupting her attempt to brainstorm for the next chapter in her book. “You always call at the perfect time,” she groaned at her twin sister on the other end of the line.

“Candy, you can never just say hello like a normal human,” Trinity laughed. “But did mama call you with the latest gossip?”

“No, but she’s been texting me all damn day. I’ve been busy so I haven’t checked them yet. Wassup,” she pressed, knowing the gossip was most likely church related. Their mother had been an usher at the same church since they were nine.

“Girl,” Trinity exclaimed, before explaining the recent Chicago gossip. “Mrs. Jackson got caught cheating with James. Someone saw them out at the park together, kissing up on each other and all that.”

“Ewww, in this panoramic,” Candace gagged. “I’m not shocked though. That old floozy was always flirting with daddy and almost made mama beat her ass one Easter Sunday. Remember that?”

Trinity cackled, “Boooooy, mama was about to peel that woman’s skin back and break her neck. Ol’ girl was trying it that day and knows she is too old to still be acting like that. But enough about Florence, what have you been up to today? Ain’t your man on his way back to New York?”

Candace rolled her eyes because she knew where this conversation was going. Her sister had four children, leaving Candace the only childless sibling left in the pack of five children.

“He’ll be back in two days and then we’re going to Colorado for Christmas. Since we can’t gather for the holidays, figured we’d go somewhere where we can safely distance ourselves but still get away. You know,” Candace said, swirling the wine around in her glass before taking a sip.

“Mmmhhhhmmm. You gon’ get knocked up in them mountains,” Trinity added in a serious tone. “You two renting out a cabin or something up there?”

“Ain’t nobody getting knocked up until she has a ring on her finger. Yes, we’re getting a cabin and just chillin’ out. Yahya has been working and needs a break. I’ve been....lonely.” Candace paced her kitchen, trying to think of an excuse to end this call before her twin irritated her soul.

“Ya’ll haven’t seen each in months, he’s going to tear--”

“Trin!” One major difference between the two of them was the lack of filter on Trinity’s part. The woman would say anything in front of anyone. “Look, I need to go straighten up before before Yah gets here. I’ll talk to you later?”

Trinity sighed loudly on the other end because she knew her sister was rushing her off the call. Not liking people in her relationship business bugged Trinity because she was the nosey twin that wanted to know everything, much like their mother. “Well at least you won’t be needing to replace the batteries in that vibrator any time soon since the real Dr. Manhattan is back in the picture.” Before Candace could reply to the vulgar comment, Trinity squeezed out a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up.

“Nasty ass,” Candace rolled her eyes and placed the phone back in the pocket of her jeans.

The next two days were the same song. Candace’s brain did not want to focus on writing, so she eventually gave up and settled on online shopping to ease her frustration. The night her beautiful man was supposed to return, the actress fell asleep on the couch. His flight had been delayed by a couple of hours and he didn’t make it home until 3AM.

He quietly entered the apartment, knowing Candace could never stay awake past twelve. The 6′3 actor, tip toed across the floor doing his best ballerina impression. Light snores could be heard over the infomercial playing on the television. She looked peaceful, almost child-like curled up on the sofa under her favorite coral throw. Yahya slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Candace’s pouted lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling under her breath and fell back into a slumber.

“Baby,” he sung into her ear, placing another kiss on her cheek.

“Hmm.” Candace finally opened her eyes to see her Christmas gift standing right in front of her. Even with blurred vision, the smell of his cologne was a dead giveaway. She screeched and scurried to her feet to throw her arms around Yahya’s neck. Naturally, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked them back and forth. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he grunted, peppering Candace’s face in kisses. “My baaaaaaby,” Yahya sang as they fell to the sofa in a heap of long limbs. “It smells good in here, what you cook?”

“Negro, you’re always looking for the food. Ol’ hungry ass,” Candace shook her head and playfully punched her lover’s bicep. “But, I saved you some fried rice and shrimp...homemade because that’s the only dish I’m good at.”

“Oh, that’s not the only dish you’re good at,” he bit his lip, pulling Candace into a slow, passionate kiss, showing her how much he really missed her. With both of them being in the industry, they understood the heartache that came with being in a relationship and not seeing your significant other for weeks or months at a time. In this case, their time away from each other was extended due to the pandemic. “Mmmmm,” Yahya hummed into Candace’s lips before pulling away. He wanted to save the X-rated loving for their trip when he would have more time to rest and beat the severe jet lag from flying across the world for 12 hours.

“We should get some food in this belly, babe,” Candace couldn’t contain the big cheesy grin that made her cheeks hurt.

-------

Christmas Eve

Toni Braxton’s sultry voice filled the cabin as Yahya finished pouring the wine for their night cap. They had a busy day on the slopes trying not to kill themselves or break any bones.

“Baby, where your fine ass at,” Yahya called out, making his way to the living room. The fireplace crackled, sending waves of heat throughout the cabin’s living area. The sun had set, but the mountains were still glowing against the dark sky. Their view was impeccable and the mood was set for a night of bonding and loving. “Candy, don’t make me come get you.” He warned playfully, sitting in front of the fire on their floor palette they had built earlier that night.

“What was that,” Candace teased, stopping in the doorway getting a front row view of Yahya’s bare upper half. His back muscles bulged as he tended to the fire.

“You back there sleeping, old lady,” he asked, with his back still turned away from her.

“No, I was back there wrapping one last gift,” she replied, her voice dropping an octave prompting Yahya to turn around.

His eyes almost fell out of his head, “Damn girl.” Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, he moved forward, inspecting the gift that was screaming to be unwrapped. “This all for me?”

“Every inch of it.” Her words almost came out as a moan. The way this man was eyeing her had moisture pooling between her legs. The fancy lingerie wouldn’t last long at this rate. Words became an afterthought when actions began to do all the talking. All it took was a soul turning kiss to send them both to the floor on their palette in front of the fireplace. Candace couldn’t tell if the fire had her skin tingling or the anticipation of having his hands rubbing over the most sensitive parts of her body. The wine and fruits sitting on the mantle quickly became an afterthought.

For minutes, they enjoyed exploring each other and parts they hadn’t touched in months. Yahya was nestled between Candace’s thighs, both of them breathless and horny. Candace’s lace get up was quickly removed and thrown to the side. She giggled when his lips grazed her belly button, those giggles soon turning into pants and whispered obscenities. With gentle licks, he coaxed her clit out of its hood.

Toys were fun but they weren’t the real thing and oh did she miss the real thing. See, the real thing knew exactly how to pull her close to the edge before sending her back. Her man’s skilled tongue sank deeper drawing intricate patterns in her center as she massaged the top of his head with her fingertips.

Candace’s breath hitched in her throat and her thighs shook awaiting the impending release. “Jesus,” she moaned as her body suddenly felt light and her center thumped.

“Still as sweet as I remember,” he grinned, kissing Candace’s inner thigh.

Another track on their Toni Braxton Christmas playlist began to play and Yahya rested his head on Candace’s stomach. Time was precious and Yahya didn’t want to waste an ounce of the rare quiet moment they had. Soon, they’d both be filming again and the world would be back to normal.

“What’s on your mind, baby,” Candace asked, her heart and breath back to a steady rhythm.

“I don’t spend enough time with you. At least not lately,” he began. “I knew what I was getting into when we were back in school. Still makes me feel bad though.”

“Yah, I enjoy all the moments that we do get to spend together. You’ve been working your ass off this year. Yes, I would love more times like this but we should also celebrate all your accomplishments. Because you’re doing the damn thang and I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you. You always say the right shit to get me together,” he chuckled. “Sometimes a nigga just be in his feelings and I missed the hell out of you those six months.”

“Yeah, six months has never gone by that slowly. You should see my credit card statements. I’ve never purchased that many sex toys in my life,” Candace covered her face with her arm.

“Word? Well.... you won’t be needing those sex toys for awhile.”

A smirk formed on her lips when she felt him bump against her thigh, “No, no, you just sit back and relax. I got this.” Sitting up, Candace placed a hand on Yahya’s chest, prompting him to switch her spots.

“You are beautiful,” Yahya’s eyes gleamed. After all these years, he could still make Candace blush like a little school girl. “Don’t hide that smile, girl.” His large hands massaged her thighs as she eased him inside of her.

They both exhaled, letting Toni Braxton serenade them through the night.

---------

Christmas Morning

They had finally made it to bed and got a few hours of sleep before Christmas morning arrived and it was time to get up for their next day of adventures.

First, they needed to re-fuel their bodies after the festivities that took place the night before in front of the fireplace and in the bedroom. The shower also got some of their loving that morning. Candace could hear Yahya singing his own version of Joy to the World while whipping up his famous oatmeal. That man never knew the words to any song but sung his own words with all the confidence in the world.

“Yah, do you ever know the words,” Candace questioned, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing a bowl from one of the kitchen shelves.

“Nope,” he replied in a matter of fact tone. “It’s the Abdul-Mateen version.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Over breakfast, they continued joking about Yahya’s talent of making up his own versions of songs. Joy and love was on full display. They had always been the couple to roast each other and the next minute adore each other like the two biggest saps in the world.. Their relationship was built on a strong friendship they developed while they were in film school before reconnecting a few years later.

They walked a short distance to one of the coffee shops near their cabin to grab hot chocolate. It was a chilly 45 degrees, but to avoid sitting in the shop, they walked back to their rental, taking a scenic route that Yahya suggested.

“If we get lost or I end up falling off one of these mountains, I hope my family doesn’t kill you,” Candace joked, admiring the beautiful scene before them.

“Oh, I know where we are. I was out here early yesterday morning trying to find the perfect spot,” Yahya replied.

“Huh, perfect spot for what?”

He didn’t answer right away and instead reached for Candace’s hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Something I’ve been wanting to do for awhile.” Placing his cup on one of the rocks, Yahya pulled a box from his pocket and got down on one knee.

“What...what...” For once, Candace was speechless and caught completely off guard.

“It’s hard as hell to surprise you and I’ve been trying to think of the perfect time to do this without your nosey ass finding out.” Tears began to flow down Candace’s cheeks. “We’ve been at this for a few years and I’ve had some of my best moments with you by my side. I want to make what we have forever.” He opened the small box to reveal a beautiful emerald cut ring. “Say love... would you marry me?”

Being the goofball that she was, Candace laughed between her tears “You’re trying to get me pregnant on this trip, aren’t you?”

“Well that can be arranged if you say yes.”

“Ye...yes, of course!” Her vision blurred as Yahya slid the rock on her finger and stood to his feet to kiss his future bride. Moments later Yahya’s phone rang with an incoming Facetime call.

“Hey Trinity, hey moms,” Yahya cheesed, turning his phone to share the screen with Candace. “Looks like you two aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”

“She said yes,” Trinity screamed, jumping up and down with their mother. “Aye, aye, ayyyeeeeee.”

Still in complete shock and happiness overflowing, Candace shrieked, “Wait, you two knew about this the entire time!”

“Yep! It’s been burning my ass to keep this secret from you all this time,” Trinity teased, sticking out her tongue. “He took mom with him to ring shop last year and everything.”

“Welcome to the family, son. Congratulations baby,” Ms. Fredrick sang, clapping for the happy couple on the other end of the call.

“Now, I hope you two are using protection out there because having a baby before the wedding is-”

“Trinity,” Candace called out, shaking her head.

They should have followed Trinity’s advice because approximately two months later.....

Hope you all enjoyed! This is the first piece I’ve written in a year. I have no idea if I’ m going to continue the stories I began before my hiatus, yet. But, we will explore that in the coming year! Who knows, we may get more Candace and Yahya depending on how hard writer’s block slaps me. May the new year bring you all peace and joy!

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya x black character #fanfics #celebrity fanfics #black love #ororo writes #holiday one shot

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joontier · 4 years

Text

Ramen Rivals

synopsis: Rivals in the kitchen, rivals even with ramen - two rivaling restaurateurs fight over the only cup of instant noodles left in the convenience store

pairings: kim seokjin x reader (oneshot)

rating: R | genre: classic e2l trope; gourmet chef! seokjin and reader ; smut; humor; fluff ; crack | warnings: swearing, explicit sex, kitchen sex, implied bathroom sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 12k RIP MY BRAIN

a/n: Ahhhh, his is actually a re-written version of one i posted way way back 2018 LOOOL idk what to feel anymore after this akfaowiejfoawe the last parts are actually heavily unedited ACK

navi.

Kim Seokjin.

That’s it. That’s the name. That’s the tweet.

You never knew three syllables could affect you this much, could bring you this great distress. The mere mention of it makes you reel, roll your eyes, ball up your fists, makes the tiny hairs on your nape stand on end.

Long story short, Kim Seokjin makes your blood boil.

It doesn’t help either that he was Adonis himself – complete with cat eyes, plump lips, and a dashing smile, or that he has rock-hard abs hiding underneath that white double-breasted jacket, or that he busts out corny ass dad jokes as much as he winks at people (which is a LOT of times, by the way), or that he’s an undeniably an exceptional chef (such as yourself, duh) and has now erected a gourmet restaurant next door to rival yours, OR the completely obvious fact that you two have history.

The short period of time in the past that you shared with him wasn’t exactly one you would be embarrassed of, or something you want to forget. Instead, it’s the exact opposite. You’re ashamed of the fact that you hadn’t gotten over it until now, three years later. He was your OGF – Mr. One Great Fuck. Kim Seokjin still holds the belt for the title of making you cum six consecutive times in a single night. How he managed to do that and how nobody else has measured up to that, you’ll never know.

You’d initially met him at Les Coulisses Du Chef in Paris, where you had enrolled yourself in a patisserie class to expand your knowledge on French pastry and hopefully get a certificate for it. You’d been meaning to take the class since forever, yet you’d been waitlisted year after year until last year when one of the applicants had backed out, they’d called you in, merely half a month before the program started.

Three weeks into the semester, Seokjin had introduced himself to you, or rather, had told you a dad joke as an introductory preview of his personality. You’re glad he did though, else you would have been surprised if you discovered the kid was part Greek god, part chef, part dad jokes, and .01% brain cell.

“What do you call a fake noodle?” asks .01% brain-cell-man seated beside you, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the prominent veins on his forearms. You’re momentarily distracted by the action, completely missing out the question he’d just asked you. “Sorry, what?”

“What do you call a fake noodle?” Gosh, you shouldn’t have asked him again. If only he knew the number of times you’d hear- “Impasta!” He snorts, holding a fettuccine noodle in one hand and the other clutching onto his tummy as he doubles in his laughter.

You’re just standing beside him, slack-jawed, unsure if this was just a sick dare. Who was this guy? Was he even in the same class as you? Was he high? Perhaps he mistook flour for coke? His laughter dies down when he sees your face, sans-reaction.

“Wait, you understand English right? Um… comprendre English? Oui?”

“Yes, I can understand English.”

“Then why didn’t you laugh?” You raise a brow. This stranger just comes up to you, tells you a lame joke, and now he expects you to laugh?

“This is gonna sound real mean, but it was really an old joke...and a lame one at that,” you retort, your face crumpled into one of faux pity.

“Hey! No need to make it personal!” he counters, placing a hand over his heart, face contorting into a grimace. “You, Rafa!” He half-shouts, pointing an accusatory finger to someone behind you. “You said it would be a great ice-breaker!” Your eyes follow the Rafa he’s pointing at, the latter quickly shakes his head, telling you he doesn’t know the man in French.

“Is this man bothering you?” Rafa nods sadly.

“What?! How dare you turn the tables on me?? I’m your only friend!” You turn to glare at pasta guy, who continues to wail behind you. Rafa snorts from across at the sight of pasta guy making a fool of himself behind you and eventually takes pity on him.

“I’m sorry, Jin’s just been meaning to talk to your since the start of semester, so he’s asked me for advice on how to approach you...I told him to tell you a good ‘ole joke in the kitchen since we’re all chefs here...I didn’t actually think he’d take it...seriously.”

“Wow! Betraying and exposing me all at once!! Why won’t you just fry me alive in olive oil, huh? That would be less painful.” Jin-pasta complains, arms gesticulating wildly in the air. You watch them unabashedly bicker in front of you concurrently amused at the whole spectacle.

The three of you become close friends soon thereafter, Jin claiming your trio as the ‘Kitchen Musketeers’. Yes, he managed to convince the entire class to call your tiny group of friends that name. And yes, that wasn’t the worst idea Seokjin had in mind when he was considering a name for your trio. You didn't even want to start to reminisce about the rest of Seokjin’s bizarre suggestions: Charlie’s Cooks (to his defense, you did have a substitute mentor named Charlie), Gourmetbusters, Pecanpuff Girls, The Three Sausagees (more like two sausages and one bun). You’ve always cringed at the last one.

Despite your trio’s antics, Rafa considers himself the third wheel more than anything. Rafael was not oblivious to the crush on Seokjin that you’ve been harboring for months.

It was the day of your graduation from the short course you’d taken - the three of you decided to have a celebratory wine party at Seokjin’s rented apartment. That same night was when you found yourself drunk on pinot noir and Seokjin’s lips. The rest was history.

Finding the bed and the rest of his apartment empty the next morning, you took your leave and fared your walk of shame along the streets of Paris with teary eyes and a bruised heart.

Your Mr. OGF also turned out to be Mr. One God-Tier Fucker. Or perhaps the title also belonged to you, Ms. One Gigantic Fool, who thought that maybe she could have been more than a one-night-stand between two colleagues whose relationship could never be more than a professional one.

Colleagues. The apparent ‘label’ lets out a boisterous laugh at your face. Gosh, you’re a pathetic fucking fool.

Thankfully, your flight back to Korea was scheduled that day as well,, so you wouldn’t have to see Seokjin’s pretty face any longer or rather - what you wouldn’t admit even to yourself - you wouldn’t be able to confront the face of the truth you wanted to hide deep beneath the recesses of your heart.

At least, that’s what you thought.

One and a half years after you got your certificate in Paris, you had finally saved enough money to start your business - a gourmet restaurant situated in the heart of Gangnam. You already had patrons from the restaurant where you previously worked, and the opening of Canapé had garnered more customers than you initially expected.

Business had been thriving for a year, that is, until someone decided to erect a new gourmet restaurant just beside yours. Having a rivalling establishment wasn’t new news to you, neither did it truly bother you as to no longer having the monopoly in gourmet restaurants located in this part of Gangnam.

A week after the opening of your neighbor’s Ambrosia - you decided to bring over a friendly bottle of wine you had shipped straight from France with the hopes that you can become acquainted with your fellow restaurateur.

As you move along the crosswalk and reach Ambrosia’s podium outside intended for the maitre d’, you shift your weight between your legs, an unconscious habit that only Seokjin took notice of. Ridding your thoughts of the man who shall no longer be named, you let your mind wander off to your own worker’s description of the alleged owner.

Out of all your staff’s depiction of Ambrosia’s owner, it’s your sommelier’s and manager’s descriptions that have struck you the most.

Yoongi, your timid sommelier, tells you that the owner was a stout man in his mid-forties with Caucasian features, while your manager, Jinhee said he was a man around your age with a face and built that could easily pass for a K-Pop idol.

You were leaning towards Yoongi’s description because Jinhee would have most likely mistaken a real idol for the owner since there were plenty of celebrities who hung out in Gangnam and would meet up in restaurants like yours. Either way, celebrity look-a-like or not, you were determined to meet your neighbor.

“There’s someone outside, Hobi,” a busser informs the maitre d as he wipes the last table for the day. Three pairs of eyes look at you through the glass.

You continuously peer from the outside as you can’t see much from due to the darkness inside, where only a few dim lights are on. “Go on then, Hobi,” the owner states, nudging the maitre d towards the door.

Hoseok takes a glimpse of you through the glass panel and faces the owner. “Hyung, she seems pretty. Why don’t you do it? You ought to have a proper girlfriend right now. It’s about time you move on from your love interest in Paris! Plus you’re the owner of the restaurant!”

“Hobi, I still have to do kitchen check, remember? And for the record, I have moved on from her. Chop chop.” Hobi gives him an incredulous look, highly doubting his boss had already forgotten about her. “Right away, Mr. Seokdon Ramsay.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts when you hear the melodic sound of the bell as the door opens and a man with a bright smile comes out. “Hello! My name’s Hobi, can I help you with anything?”

“Um..hi! I’m from Canapé just across the street… are you, perhaps, the owner of Ambrosia?”

“Oh! I’m not the owner…I wish I was though if I had someone pretty like you looking for me…” You laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of what you should reply to such a line. The two of you remain standing there, staring at each other. “Um...is the owner there then? It would be nice if I can speak to him or her or them…” you let out a small cough, looking away.

“Right! Of course, sorry about that! I’ll tell him to come out.” Hobi scurries back inside and soon you hear incoherent yelling and laughter from inside the restaurant.

“Hyungnim! Hyung!!” Hobi calls out once more, eyes searching wildly for Seokjin. “What now?” Seokjin emerges from the kitchen with the busser in tow. “Hyung! She’s fucking hot! And I feel like I’ve known her from somewhere…plus she says she’s from our neighboring restaurant! I told you, you were the one who should’ve gone out there. By the way, I think she’s calling wine o’clock too – and the bottle she’s holding looks like expensive French Cabernet Sauvignon!”

Seokjin narrows his eyes at his maitre d, “You seem to have been spending a lot of time with that sommelier from across the street.” The owner of Ambrosia shakes his head at his friend, who pushes him towards the door. “Hurry! You wouldn’t want to keep a pretty girl waiting!”

You’ve been waiting patiently outside, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watch people come and go. The streets of Gangnam was always lively, and it still surprises you at this point that you had decided to put up a restaurant in the midst of the hustle and bustle of a city like such because you’ve always wanted to erect one by the countryside with the whole organic theme going on. Nonetheless, you were happy with your decision of establishing one in Gangnam.

The bell dings again, and as you turn on your heel to check the much-anticipated owner of Canapé, you nearly drop the pricey bottle of red wine in your hands. It’s Mr. man-who-shall-no-longer-be-named. You’re stood there shell-shocked, mouth agape at the man in front of you.

He hasn’t changed one bit, well, except for the more handsome features. He’s changed his hairstyle too, now opting for an exposed forehead instead of those bangs he’d impulsively cut by his own in the middle of the night. His shoulders remain the same, miraculously; just an inch wider and he could’ve been a great replacement for a meter stick at Encore, the clothing store that offered bespoke clothing just down the road.

“_________?”

Seokjin starts to speak, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to do the same. There’s too much you wanted to say, ask , and rant about that your mouth remains hanging open awkwardly – almost as if you’re squawking. You bow in embarrassment, apologizing for your behavior and run back to your restaurant.

The Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia was holding its annual even today at The Andaz Seoul and you just had this gut feeling Seokjin was going to be there. With yesterday’s discovery that your neighboring, rivaling, restaurant was owned by none other than Kim Seokjin himself, you already had an inkling he was invited to GCAEA’s event tonight.

Your suspicions had been confirmed as one of the event’s producers sent you an email earlier this morning, that which contains the list of nominees for the title of GCAEA’s Chef of the Year – the same title that was bestowed upon you just last year. Seokjin was the first nominee for this year’s awarding ceremony.

Kudos to him. Despite knowing that your hatred for him was fueled by more personal reasons, you knew deep down inside the recesses of your brain that he was a really, really talented chef. Probably just as good as you – of course, you can easily admit that you’re still lacking in plenty but you don’t think your pride will allow you to accept defeat from Seokjin just like that after all he’d done.

You only had the chance to look at Seokjin for a good seven seconds yesterday, but it had taken you at least seven hours, a tub of ice cream, and a Captain America movie marathon to reassure yourself that having seen him so close yesterday wasn’t just an actual nightmare.

As much as you hated to admit it, he remained just as handsome as he was three years ago. What you couldn’t get over with though, was how he actually smiled at you yesterday. That little fucker had to audacity to show his perfect little pearly whites at you! All over again, you’re reminded of how he left you in his room the morning after, or how much of a fucking fool you were for having believed that the two of you could’ve been something more than friends.

Rearranging your dress for the nth time today, you take another look at the mirror, twisting and turning to see if there might be some thread hanging off the hems of the dress. You’re starting to question your decided outfit for the night. You had a dress done just for this event – or more specifically, what sort of dress Jinhee had ordered to be sewn just for this event.

It hugged your curves perfectly – the dress a perfect merger between modest and seductive. It had a nude-illusion base with silver sequins sewn onto the thin fabric and a low-cut neckline that gives everyone a lovely view of your cleavage.

This one could easily pass as an evening gown for a Miss Universe candidate. You felt confident, beautiful, and sexy but at the same time you felt like you wanted to just huddle yourself up in your duvet in the corner of your room and eat ice cream. You weren’t uncomfortable with showing skin from time to time, but having been clad in a double-breasted jacket on a daily means it felt strange having your neckline displayed in public.

Your phone dings, indicating a text message. Yoongi had offered to be your chauffeur for this evening, of course, after being coerced and bribed by Jinhee into doing it.

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:43pm

hurry up, or i’ll leave you behind

[you] 6:43pm

yoongs

It’s MY car WE’RE using

you don’t even have my keys yet

[yoongles 🍷 ] 6:45pm

u get the idea, woman

dont keep me waiting

“Well maybe if you won’t stop texting, I’ll be quicker,” you grumble to your phone, placing it inside your purse so Yoongi won’t bother you any longer. Doing one last twirl in the mirror, you grab your necessities you’ve gathered on your bedside table and sweep them into your purse.

“You clean up nicely, boss.”

Squinting your eyes at Yoongi with his words, you send him a grateful smile nonetheless. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” This was the closes thing to an actual compliment that you were ever going to receive from Yoongi in your entire lifetime, so you were sure to keep his words close to your heart.

Taking your car keys from your purse, you toss them to Yoongi who catches them deftly with one hand. “Ooh, you looked cool when you did that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You gave me a compliment, so I’m going to give you one in return. As a token of gratitude.”

“Remind me never to say anything to you ever again.”

“Hey! You talk back like that to the woman who’s giving you money for your daily needs?! And you won’t even open the door for me?” you ask your past neighbor-turned-sommelier-turned-close-friend. “It’s called a salary, Ms. _______. And I receive that as compensation because I give you my services in exchange for it. Plus, I’m already seated here,” Yoongi shrugs, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the door to your backseat, exerting much effort in swinging one leg after the other with your incredibly tight evening gown. And, of course making sure the short train won’t get caught between the car doors.

Yoongi checks if you’re all good through the rear-view mirror and once he sees you buckle up, he lets the engine roar to life. You take out your phone from your purse to see if you’ve received any other emails, only for the phone to get flung from your hands – including you.

The car surges forward all of a sudden and Yoongi steps on the breaks just in time. You hear Yoongi curse under his breath, looking over his shoulder to check if you’re okay. “Shit! I forgot you drove a Maserati!”

“I think the more appropriate thing to do is to ask me if I’m still okay…Also, it doesn’t matter what kind of car I drive, because I think you forgot how to actually drive at all.” You complain, adjusting the seatbelt across your chest, the sudden jolt leaving a diagonal red mark just by your collarbone.

“Well, you aren’t dead, so technically speaking, you’re okay.” Unbelievable. You let out a loud scoff, unable to think of anything wittier to say. “Just please get me there in one piece, Yoongs.”

You manage to get to the hotel in one piece. Thank heavens.

The small talk you made with Yoongi on your way to the hotel had temporarily taken your mind off the jitters but now that he’s left you standing by the entrance of the hotel, the nerves had definitely returned, tenfold. You’re also unfortunately dropped off at a spot where a standee of yours holding the Gourmet Chef of the Year award is staring back at you. God, you hated that photo. They did not give your eyebrows justice, at all.

You exhale all your nervousness away as you take the steps to the lobby. “_______!” Someone calls out, the voice too familiar to miss out on. “Sunbae!” You turn around to see one of the most revered chefs in Korea, and definitely one of your favorite mentors, Choi Jiyoung. The woman nearing her fifties extends her arms out in greeting and you give her a tight hug. You had worked under her supervision in the past, and she had taught you almost everything you knew about Korean cuisine.

“Ah, it’s been too long darling! Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!” Misun praises as her grip on you tightens and pulls you by the elbow, “Surely, there’s a lucky man that has swept my sweet _______ by now!” Your senior adds, punctuating her sentence with a wink at the end.

“I’ve been pretty busy these days… and dating hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

‘That’s because the last man I’ve wanted to date was three years ago and he’d just considered me a one-night stand and now after I’ve struggled to burn his existence from my memory and to be very frank with you, I really haven’t gotten over him and now he just so happens to be the owner of the restaurant beside mine. Also, he’s stealing my customers.’ Comes your real answer inside your head, but you’ll never tell anyone that.

Jiyoung pouts at your answer, but taps your forearm, “We’ll talk more about that inside. Come on darling, the event is starting.”

Seokjin sees you finally enter the lobby, eyes scanning the few people scattered around the area as you look for a familiar face you could approach. All eyes are on you, yet you don’t notice, like always. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, blushing furiously under the simplest compliments. You’ve got this certain charm that certainly draws people towards you, all the more when they get to know you better, just like what you did to him.

Seokjin remembers the first time he’d actually seen you – on the television. He’d been scrolling aimlessly through the channels, trying to look for something to watch as he waits for the water to boil for his ramen. He’d accidentally stopped by Channel K99’s ‘Choi Jiyoung Kitchen Specials’ reruns during midnight when he checked his phone after it dinged, alerting him of a notification on his email: just another alert to renew his ‘KOREA’ magazine subscription, where he’d secretly get new recipes, try them out, add a little twist, and serve them to his customers at his parent’s restaurant.

As he was about to press the off button on the remote, you enter the frame as the camera pans out when Choi Jiyoung introduces you as her new assistant and protégé. For some reason, this show just got all the more interesting for Seokjin, who’s clearly drawn to you and not the scrumptious seafood platter that Chef Choi was preparing.

He’d followed you on all his social media accounts after that night, even going as far as turning on his notifications for each post you made. He was unsure what had drawn him to you in the first place – whether it be the fact that you were probably the first female chef he’d seen in Korea that was just about his age (that or he really just didn’t pay any attention to women in the same field during the early years of his career), or that you were unbelievably skilled at such a young age with apparently, a lot of culinary awards and certificates under your belt.

Funny enough, Seokjin wasn’t really one to delve into the world of pastry but judging from your most recent Instagram posts during those days, you had taken interest in patisserie, which only caused Seokjin to attempt baking his own first croissant. He finally understood your enthusiastic devotion for it ever since. Then came Les Coulisses Du Chef, where Rafa, an exchange-student-turned-friend of his from his culinary school days had secured him a slot for a semester at the prestigious school of gastronomy in Paris to get a certificate on French pastry.

He wasn’t expecting you though, out of all people, to join the official list of the class as well, last minute.

It took him three weeks before he finally spoke to you, much to Rafa’s exasperation. Seokjin would keep nagging the French man, telling him how much he wanted to talk to you, yet he can’t seem to grow some balls to do so. In annoyance, he’d told Seokjin that the best way to break the ice was to tell a joke – this time, much to Seokjin’s chagrin. He’d never thought secondhand embarrassment was a thing until Seokjin actually heeded his advice and told you about the ‘impasta’. Surprisingly enough, it worked, so voila!

If only you knew how nervous Seokjin was during that time, clammy hands and all. In fact – if only you knew how jittery Seokjin was whenever he was near you. He’s pretty sure he’d ruined his credibility and career after busting out that lame ass joke Rafa had told him, but it turned out to be the only way he actually got closer to you so he was partly grateful for Rafa’s advice – reputation be damned.

Just like tonight, the moment his eyes fall on you, he feels like he’s being drawn back to his room, eyes trained on you as you diligently followed each of Chef’s Choi’s directions, or that time he’d first spoke to you back in your French patisserie class. He diverts his gaze elsewhere from the fear that you might catch him staring.

“Hey, man. Isn’t that ________? The girl you’ve been crushing on since forever?” Minjae asks, elbowing Seokjin at the waist. The latter grimaces slightly in pain, before reluctantly letting his gaze settle on you once more.

Jungkook returns from the bathroom, joining the duo by the reception. “Wow, who’s that?” the younger man asks, nodding towards your direction. With Jungkook being a fairly new member of the association, curiosity is getting the best of him with all the faces he’s seeing.

Similar to a little kid at a toy shop, he’s constantly asking his hyungs if the people he was seeing were the actual people he’d seen on the internet or on the television. Minjae, who indulges every question of the maknae of their small circle of friends with great enthusiasm, answers Jungkook. “That’s _______, Kook.”

“No way! That’s her?! As in the _________?” The only female chef in Korea who received her first Michelin star in her twenties?! As in ________ Choi Jiyoung’s protégé?!”

“Yes, Kook, that’s her alright. And also the same ________ who will hear you soon enough and will find you weird if you don’t keep your voice down.”

“She’s also the same recipient of the award your Seokjin hyung is nominated for this year,” Jiwon adds, wriggling his eyebrows at Seokjin.

“That’s so cool!” Jungkook exclaims as their whole group watches you approach the infamous Choi Jiyoung. “Hyung, do you think she’s single?” Jungkook asks to nobody in particular, considering they were all his hyungs. Minjae and Jiwon glance at Seokjin who returns their glances with a light glare.

“Why don’t you go find out after the party then?” Seokjin suggests, ignoring that certain pang of jealousy that blossoms in his chest at his own proposal.

“Tell me you’re kidding, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Come on! That’s your girl! You’re going to let go of her just like that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kook.”

“Hyung. I may be the maknae, but I am neither blind nor dumb. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain will know you have the hots for her.” Minjae and Jiwon snicker at the younger one’s comment. Seokjin, albeit being second to the youngest, gives them a glare the makes them cower behind Jungkook.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Well no. But every time we go out, the only notifications that pop up in your screen are her posts on Instagram. Don’t you think that’s a tad bit…pathetic, hyung?”

Ooh and aahs come from the two other men, who are reveling at the harsh bluntness of Jungkook’s words. It’s the maknae who receives Seokjin’s side-eye next. “Need I remind you who’s the older one here?”

“The point exactly! We’re not getting any younger, hyung. Better ask her out now…before I beat you to it.” Seokjin’s mouth falls open in astonishment, while Jungkook just smiles at him in return. “Come on hyung, they’re calling us inside.”

“Well, well, would you look at that stunner over there?” She comments, nodding her head towards someone over your shoulder. There he was, the infamous Kim Seokjin, clad in an all-black ensemble, a single silver chain necklace hanging on his neck. His hair is swept to the side, revealing a bit of his forehead.

“Oh boy.” Jung Chungae fans herself as your greatest rival turns sideways, showing off his side-profile while animatedly telling a story to a fellow colleague seated with them. “Oh how I wish we could just go back to our golden years for just one night!” The rest of the table laughs at Chungae’s comment.

“I personally think you and that man would make a great couple.” Jiyoung says, leaning towards you.

“The other man sat on his right doesn’t seem to think that way though,” Chungae says, picking on her dessert, whispering ‘cute guy from same table’ discreetly. As if on cue, the rest of the ladies, you included, turn your heads towards Seokjin’s table. True to sunbae Chungae’s implications, there was another man beside Seokjin who was staring back at you. You believe Jungkook was his name… nevertheless, you get shy under his stare, averting your eyes back to the presently attractive flower arrangement at the center of your table.

The servers pile inside in pairs, approaching each table to take your dessert plates. You see the host rise from his chair and take the stairs to the stage. He taps the microphone, checking if the audio was working, “To announce this year’s Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award, may I call on Ms. _________.”

Minjae nudges Seokjin as you stand up from your seat. “Hyung, quit it before other people see you.”

“Come on now, get your ass up and walk her to the stage!”

“She can perfectly walk on her own though?”

“Come on, it’s plus points both for her and the crowd! Give these oldies a show, idiot.”

“N-“

“Hyung, if you won’t do it, I will.” Jungkook says from across the table, eyeing you as you excuse yourself from the other ladies in your table.

Seokjin stares at Jungkook and purses his lips. He discards of the napkin on his lap at once, lightly throwing the piece of cloth on the table. As he stands up, few murmurs of curiosity follow him as he approaches you.

“Ms. ________, may I?” You’re surprised when somebody suddenly appears on your side, offering his arm out for you to hold onto. You hear sunbae Jiyoung quietly cheer you on, nodding her head once to accept Seokjin’s display of manners. The rest of the audience likewise cheers the young man on with a few men whooping and a number of ladies cooing at the sight. Frankly, it wasn’t even that long of a walk until the stage but a part of you was grateful, knowing for yourself that you truly weren’t used to wearing long dresses like these.

As you both reach the stage, with your hand hooked around Seokjin’s elbow, he places another hand atop yours for extra support. The action seems to have the opposite effect. Suddenly all too aware of the proximity between you two, a shiver runs through your spine, secretly hoping the gulp that you make at the sensation goes unnoticed. At the end of the stairs, you give him a curt bow and say your thanks, unable to look him in the eye.

The emcee hands you the microphone and an envelope, containing the name of the awardee. You tap the mic once, then twice. “This is on, right?” The audience laughs in response. “Woops, sorry,” you apologize meekly before starting your half-impromptu, half-practiced speech.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank, first and foremost, the board of judges who have bestowed upon me this same award this time last year, and now I have had the greatest honor to announce the awardee later on. I would also like to send my gratitude to all those who have been my mentors here in Korea and overseas – for I have taken your pieces of advice to my heart and they have guided me wonderfully throughout these years, especially sunbae Choi Jiyoung, who has molded me into the woman and chef that I am today. Also, here’s a special mention to Chef Lee for having prepared this wonderful course for us this lovely evening – I absolutely admire how he manages to make Korean staples like Kimchi Jjigae and Pajeon so…flavorful like it’s been made with his entire heart and soul poured into each detail. Wow. Could we have a round of applause for Chef Lee tonight?”

The audience complies quickly with your request while Chef Lee gives you a bow of gratitude by the doors of the event hall.

“Lastly, I would also like to acknowledge the presence of a beloved mentor of mine, back when I took patisserie classes back in Paris – Mr. Frank Boucher, who had, by the way, also prepared his signature Apple Tarte Tatin for our dessert tonight. So without further ado, the Gourmet Chefs Association of East Asia – Chef of the Year award goes to, drumroll please!” Your tongue feels like it got stuck in your throat, but you pull yourself back to reality quick enough so no one else notices.

“Kim Seokjin! Congratulations!”

Seokjin had just barely gotten back to his seat when he hears his name being called. He stands up, beautiful facial features twisted into one of confusion. “You won Chef of the Year bro! Congrats!” Minjae pats Seokjin’s butt briefly before pushing him back towards the stage.

As you hand him the trophy, you give each other a small smile, likewise posing for the cameras. The photographer gestures for you to scoot closer to each other with his hands. It’s getting harder to fake your smile. You wanted nothing more but to go home. Or maybe you could pass by Canapé and take a bottle of wine home for yourself

Thankfully, the awarding the Chef of the Year signals the nearing conclusion of the event, and as soon as you get back to your seat, you send a text to Yoongi, telling him that the event will be over in a couple more minutes.

The event ends quicker than expected, and you find yourself bidding goodbye to everyone else as soon as the emcee officially ends the ceremony. You badly wanted to go home and rest, with only a few hours left for sleep before another work day starts.

You see Yoongi pull up by the entrance after a few more minutes. “How was the party?” You tell him what happened during the event, completely leaving out Seokjin’s appearance and antics. “Let’s just drop you off by your apartment first then I’ll go drive back to the restaurant to grab something.”

“I can go with?”

“It’s fine Yoongs. Besides, we have work in a few hours. You already sleep during work, what more if I keep you awake for an extra couple of minutes tonight?”

Yoongi just shakes his head at you, saying nothing else in reply. He finds you uncharacteristically quiet after a big event like this and wants to ask you about it, but you seem too lost in your thoughts that he doesn’t want to bother you any further. You arrive at his place shortly and as you get down from the car to switch places, you give him a hug and thank him for being your chauffeur. “Oh, and _______? Your French Cabernet Sauvignon is at the third row from the top. And drink at home, please. See you tomorrow.”

Passing through the main entrance of your restaurant, you turn on a few lights by the wine rack to aid your search for the alcoholic beverage. You make a beeline for the wooden structure attached to the wall. Third row from the top… reaching out, you grab on a bottle, reading out its name, ‘Chateau Pichon Longueville 2015 Pauillac’. This will most likely do the trick.

All of a sudden, a knock comes from your door, startling you out of your wits. Quickly, you scurry to the kitchen, looking for something that can protect you in case this person means harm. Your extensive collection of knives is what comes into your mind first, but you wouldn’t want them to be considered murder weapons, in case the worst scenario comes into play.

So you settle for the rolling pin, clutching the cylindrical utensil tightly in your hands. “Who’s there?” you call out, hoping the fear wont seep through your words. “Um, it’s Frank. Frank Boucher. Is that you inside, _______?”

Letting your hands fall to the side, you cautiously near the door, still clutching the rolling pin in your hands. You can’t be too sure nowadays. You sneak a glace through the glass panels to confirm his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see it really was your mentor back in Paris, you set aside the rolling pin and unlock the door.

“_________!”

“Ah, and to what do I owe this pleasure, Chef Boucher?”

“I wanted to talk to you back at the event, but I’m guessing you left early…”

“Um, yes…still a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Can I get you anything, perhaps? I- I grabbed a bottle of wine just now… would you like some? Or water maybe?”

“Wine is always a great choice, _______. Also I’m here to tell you something important, but I’ll let you grab two glasses first, for our usage.”

“Of course! Please feel free to sit anywhere you like.”

“Quaint restaurant you have here, ______. This is the same Canapé you told me in your email right?”

“Yep! Would you mind a few crackers and goat’s cheese to go with the wine?”

“That sounds perfect, though you really don’t have to bother yourself with all of that…” You shrug off his comment, reassuring him that it was the least you could do after having taught you so much when you were back in Paris.

You finally get everything ready, one hand holding a plate full of crackers and cheese, while the other holds two wine glasses. As soon as you get seated, Frank takes upon him the honor of opening the bottle, pouring a sufficient amount of the beverage onto your glasses. “I meant to give this to you personally earlier, but I could no longer find you after the party ended.” He hands you a white envelope with your name and Canapé’s address printed at the back.

“You’ve been invited to the Asian Gourmet Conference in the Philippines next week.” You choke on the wine you’re drinking, embarrassingly turning into a coughing mess in front of your mentor. He looks at you expectantly as you open the envelope.

“Wait. This is real?! No way!” Frank laughs at your reaction, excitement evident in your voice as you skim over the words indicated on the paper. “Oh my goodness! This is such a great event! And the opportunities! Please bring the wine home, Chef Boucher! It’s on the house.” The French man laughs harder at your offer, but he doesn’t decline.

“I’m glad you’re this excited, because you’re going with Seokjin.”

Immensely thanking the heavens that you were looking down the whole time while reading the document, else your mentor would’ve seen the instantaneous scowl that graced your face at the mere mention of the-man-who-shall-not-be-named.

You force a smile onto your features before looking back up at Frank. “Kim Seokjin? As in Kim Seokjin who just won GCAEA’s Chef of the Year Award earlier?”

With slumped shoulders, you lean farther backward in your seat. The Asian Gourmet Conference was one of the most anticipated conferences in the whole of Asia. It was an event highly awaited by many in the culinary field, especially one of its main events where they invite gourmet chefs from all parts of the world to compete for the best dish ever and a $200,000 prize.

The contest was another thing though, because two representatives will be vying for each country, so the winning pair will get to come home with $100,000 each. You really wouldn’t have put any thought into who your partner would have been if you were.

Your head fills with dread at the thought of having Seokjin as your partner. It was bad enough that he owns the gourmet restaurant next to yours, and that he’d attended GCAEA which caused more unwanted interactions with him.

“Yes him. From what I’ve heard, people say he’s a rising star, and that his newly established restaurant was getting a lot of good reviews.”

“It’s the restaurant next to mine, chef.”

“Ha! Seems like you’ve finally met your match, darling. Pretty sure that can apply romance-wise as well…”

“Why does everybody keep shipping us?” You wonder, subconsciously vocalizing your thoughts.

“You two look like you have his-…I think… you two would just look great together!”

“Ship? You know what ship means?” You look at him incredulously.

“It’s when you like the idea of two people together right? My daughter says it all time because of these Korean boys with bright hair – actually, when she knew I was going here to attend GCAEA as a guest she kept on nagging me to buy her albums and these sticks…”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, the lightning ones?”

“Lightning?” You stifle a laugh. “You mean lightsticks, right?”

“Whatever they’re called, _______.” Frank Boucher gives you his infamous glare.

Nearly snorting at the sight of your mentor looking physically and mentally exhausted with trying to keep up with his fangirling daughter, you offer him another bottle because he seems like he needs it more than you do.

Your conversation falls into talking about your current lives and the stresses of running a restaurant, with Frank eventually leading the conversation about the person you’d least likely enjoy talking about. He tells you about your neighboring rival, how he’s done just as well with his own place like what you did with yours. He’s proud that both of his students had established their names in Korea’s gourmet society even at such a young age.

The clocks finally hits ten thirty and Frank takes this as his cue to get going.“Great! Your plane ticket and hotel booking has probably already been sent by my secretary to your email. The convention is only for three days, but the two extra days are on me. Take it as a gift for Canapé’s opening. Go enjoy yourself, _______”

Forcing another bright smile onto your face, you bid your goodbye to your mentor, locking the front door of your restaurant as he leaves. Five days with Seokjin. May the gods have mercy on you.

The four-hour flight to the Philippines had been excruciatingly awkward. To say the least.

You hadn’t talked to each other for the most part. In fact, the only time you had interacted with each other was when you’d waken him up because you had already landed at the airport. The both of you had barely spoken to each other even on your way to the hotel. Occasionally he’d ask you questions that only warranted monosyllabic responses from you.

You’re glad that weariness passed as the only excuse for the lack of interaction. The moment you’d met up at the airport, fatigue had already been evident in both your faces, so your pair had ended up with alternating sleeping schedules during the length of your flight and up to the taxi ride to your hotel.

Only a few words were shared between you when you’ve finally arrived in front of your rooms – something along the lines of ‘good night’ and ‘see you tomorrow’. As you let sleep take over you that night, you pray that everything will go smoothly for the entirety of your stay.

“Lovely afternoon to all of you present here today at this year’s Asian Gourmet Conference!” Excited applause falls amongst the crowd, cheering on different countries, even though they screamed the most for Team Philippines. The host greets the audience and the participants one more time, before proceeding to the guidelines of the event.

“For the first challenge of our main event, we’d like the chefs to cook two staple dishes from their respective home countries – but with a twist! Our chefs will have to use Filipino ingredients only! This is where we put their creativity and talent to the test. To our chefs, please be reminded that we will be giving you an hour to prepare your fusion dishes. While you guys are cooking, I’ll be going around to interview almost fifty chefs who have come from all parts of the world just to join us today.”

You start brainstorming with Seokjin the moment the host leaves the stage. “You’ve been to the Philippines a few times right? You’ve tried some of their food?” your partner asks, turning to you. You’re surprised he even remembered…if you had recalled properly, you had only mentioned it once back in Paris that you did visit the Philippines on occasion.

“Um, yes…I’ve been here a couple of times,” you reply, racking your brain for any Korean dishes that might hold any similarity with Korean staples. “I only remember Sinigang, and Adobe…”

“I’m pretty sure they call it Adobo here Seokjin,” you make no attempt to suppress the giggle the escapes your lips as he mistakes computer software for food.

“But the challenge is only to make our home country’s staples with Philippine ingredients… so this shouldn’t be that big of a fusion problem since rice is also considered a vital part of their meals here…”

“You think good ‘ole Bibimbap will do? Pretty much all the ingredients are available here…What else could we have?” Seokjin asks, taking a notepad and a pen from his jacket. “We can have tteokbokki for the appetizer and bingsu for dessert.”

You get to cooking right after you and Seokjin agree on the ingredients you were going to use. Maybe working with Seokjin wasn’t so bad after all. Not even fifteen minutes into the competition, you see a few girls cheer Seokjin on, ceaselessly calling your partner “Seokjin oppa!” They screams only seem to spur Seokjin on, who’s now showing off his knife skills. You roll your eyes as you shake your head, crushing the garlic a little too hard against the board.

“Jealous much?” your partner asks. You can feel Seokjin smirking beside you.

“You wish, Kim Seokjin.”

“Whatever floats your boat, ________,” he sighs, “If only my partner could also send me words of encouragement rather than staying silent the whole time,” he mumbles to himself, thinking it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear.

“You and I both know this mouth is better at something else.” You turn to him, giving Seokjin a playful wink before setting the ingredients to the bibimbap on one side. He nearly drops the knife he’s holding at your comment, obviously scandalized by your innuendo.

Even with the time racing against you, everything was still going as planned, you just needed to hurry with the final parts of the dishes and you’d be able to beat the buzzer which was bound to ring in less than twenty minutes. That is until the salt container placed on top of this tall arrangement of pots topples over the shaved ice you’ve prepared for the bingsu. You see the ice melt before your eyes, and you quickly move to the container, removing some of the ice that was turning into water.

“Shit! Sorry ________!” He drops the pans he held in his arms onto the sink, scampering to your side afterwards. “Can I help –“

“No! I…It’s fine, Seokjin, just…just go back to whatever you were doing earlier. And please be careful next time.” Seokjin nods curtly, before going back to clean the pans. “______, why does it smell like something’s burning?”

“Fuck!” Cursing under your breath, you hurry towards the pot where the rice was cooking. As you remove the cover, the smell of burnt rice and a failed dish wafts through your nose, causing you to take a deep breath as you attempt to calm yourself down.

Reluctantly, you scoop out the rice that wasn’t burnt and place it onto the stone pot and start plating your bibimbap. Seokjin likewise helps you finish plating the tteokbokki and bingsu in silence.

Needless to say, your burnt rice didn’t make it through the first round. It didn’t mean that you were disqualified from the competition though, but in order to win the cash prize, you will have to make it through all three challenges of the event. That same evening as you take the cab back to the hotel, the despondence in the air is thicker than ever.

“See you tomorrow, ______.” Seokjin says, giving you a small smile as he stops in front of his door.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Seokjin. Sleep well.”

It’s ironic how it was you who actually needed that phrase and not Seokjin. You’ve watched the clock tick away, turned on the television for something to watch on the local news channels which were thankfully spoken in English, you had also resorted to Netflix on your phone, but all to no avail.

Admittedly, you had finished an Iced Americano in fifteen minutes earlier this morning but you figure it’s the entire ‘burnt rice’ accident that’s keeping you awake at this hour. Heaving a deep sigh, you lift the covers off your body, put on a hoodie and headed outside.

You pause by Seokjin’s door momentarily, with the strong urge to knock on his door and apologize for your lack of professionalism earlier this afternoon. Seokjin didn’t really mean to pour the salt over the ice at the event, and the way you reacted was unnecessarily rude.

Seokjin was probably asleep though, and you didn’t want to further embarrass yourself by waking him in the middle of the night. Retracting your hand that was merely inches away from his door, you turn on your heel and decide to apologize to him first thing in the morning tomorrow. Maybe even get him an extra something to show the depth of your regret and guilt.

After having asked the receptionist for directions towards the nearest convenience store, you’re suddenly regretting having worn shorts on your way out – the exposed skin of your legs prickling as the chilly evening air bites at it. Spotting 7-Eleven just across the street, you walk quickly towards the convenience store, desperate to feel warmth in this cold night.

The mellifluous sound of the bell echoes throughout the small store as you enter, that particular smell of convenience stores wafting through your senses. You decide to explore the shop a little, trying to look for something to eat.

Quite ironically, you’ve cooked nearly a thousand dishes in your lifetime, and having to cook another shouldn’t be that much of a burden but when your mind is swirling with thoughts just like tonight, you can’t seem to bring yourself to cook even the simplest dish – like it’s too great of a task to burden yourself with.

So during times like this, you turn to instant noodles, the ultimate lifesaver since your culinary school days. Hopefully no one from GCAEA or the AGC finds you like this, a dignified gourmet chef who’s starting to establish her name in the culinary field, crawling convenience stores in the middle of the night and slurping instant noodles away like it’s her last day on Earth.

You finally get to the noodles section, where you see a man in a hoodie, likewise skimming through the same aisle as you. The receptionist had told you to be wary of sketchy-looking people especially during the wee hours of the morning so you hurry with your own search as you look for a certain brand of cup noodles. Shin Ramyeon.

It should be here somewhere… As far as you’re concerned as a consumer, it’s being exported to over a hundred countries now so it must be here. Going over the entire aisle one last time, you finally see the red cup, reaching over the lone cup of Shin Ramyeon left on the shelf. The problem was, you weren’t the only one who was reaching for it.

Why do those fingers look insanely familiar?

Your eyes widen gradually as you slowly trail them up to see the owner of those hands. Of course, who else could it have been? You call out each other’s name at the same time.

“Seokjin.” “________.”

“You can have it.” You spoke in unison again.

“It’s fine really, you can have it. I’ll just look for another brand,” you tell him, handing over the cup with perfectly controlled reluctance.

“Would you mind if we shared, perhaps?” You stare at him, completely taken aback by his offer. “Or not…I mean- forget I even said that… Here take it.” He hands the cup to you and starts to leave.

“Jin! I- I don’t mind sharing.” Biting on his lip, he attempts to hide the smile that slowly etches into his face as he hears the nickname only you have for him. He turns to face you again. “Okay.” Seokjin gives you a smile, grabs the cup noodles from your grasp and orders you to look for seats while he pays for your shared midnight snack.

Slowly, you trudge towards the limited number of seats they offer at the convenience store and find a spot by the windows. Seokjin arrives at your table a couple of minutes afterwards.

It was now or never. You owed Seokjin an apology after having rudely declined his offer of help during the event, even when the whole fiasco was just an accident. You figure if you don’t apologize for your unjust behavior, guilt is most likely going to eat at you for a very, very long time. Seokjin’s dejected yet still beautiful face will haunt you in your dreams.

As Seokjin busies himself with adding the ingredients onto the paper cup, you take this opportunity to speak up. “Jin,” you start, the nickname sending Seokjin’s heart into another frenzy. “About the bibimbap earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, ________. It was my fault anyway. I should be the one apologizing right now, but…hold that thought for a moment…” He looks away, letting out a sneeze. “….it’s the powder seasoning, sorry… As I was saying, I’d also like to apologize about what happened earlier, I mean if I didn’t try to carry so much, the salt wouldn’t have toppled over.”

“Hey! I should be the one apologizing right now! Stop stealing my thunder!” You pout, begrudgingly taking the small carton of milk Seokjin bought to go with the ramen. You can’t say you aren’t pleasantly surprised at how he remembers this habit of yours too. For some reason, he remembers how you always have milk ready whenever you eat something spicy.

“Anyways… I also wanted to apologize for my rude behavior towards you back at the event. It was an accident, yet I reacted badly and declined your assistance. It was only after the event that I realized that we’re supposed to be helping each other, and not treating each other poorly.”

“Don’t worry yourself too much about it, ______. Besides, we still have two days to redeem ourselves right?” Seokjin sends a warm smile your way, one you cannot help but return.

“What else are you waiting for? The ramen is getting cold and lonely.”

“You sure you aren’t talking about yourself?”

“You know, I’m thinking maybe you should get your own instant noodles,” Seokjin comments, fingers curling around the paper cup.

“Okay, okay, geez.” Throwing your hands up in defense, you thank him for paying for the noodles and the milk before pulling your chopsticks apart and digging in. As you take your first bite, Seokjin suddenly speaks up.

“Is it just me, or I am really very anxious right now…what if someone might see us?”

“Last time I checked, there’s nothing wrong with eating inside a convenience store.”

“No, no. But we’re like… owners…of restaurants…that serve gourmet food…yet here we are, at half past twelve in the morning, sharing cup noodles like it’s the last meal in the world due to a zombie apocalypse.”

“I get how you feel, but I don’t think we’d agree on the zombie apocalypse part…”

The conversation flows naturally between the both of you, like two friends casually catching up with each other’s lives. Seokjin was in the middle of talking when you hear the pitter-patter of rain outside. Tiny droplets of water slide down the glass panels, slowly turning into heavier ones.

You look at each other. “Should we?”

“We can wait this out if you’d like…” Seokjin proposes, though he isn’t so sure he wants to go with his offer either. The sudden downpour doesn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. “Forget what I said, we should leave before this gets worse. Wait here.” Seokjin stands up, goes through each aisle of the convenience store, and returns to where you’re seated. “Damn, they just ran out of umbrellas.”

“We could just run back the hotel…it’s just one crosswalk away.”

“You sure about that? What if you get sick?”

“Let’s just hope we won’t then.” Seokjin gives you a nod in approval. “Before we go out though,” he pulls his hoodie off his torso, giving you a slight show of his abdominals as he raises his hands. You abruptly look away, before nasty thoughts overcome you.

Placing his hoodie over both your heads, Seokjin peers down at you. “Ready when you are.” The quick sprint back to the hotel has you both screaming and laughing at the same time. You weren’t surprised that Seokjin’s hoodie barely served its purpose. You were both drenched from the neck down, attracting unwanted attention from people with your appearance.

With less than a few more steps before you reach your hotel rooms, you feel trepidation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. What’s going to happen now? Were you supposed to forget what happened between the two of you three years ago just like that? Was your midnight ramen run officially a clean slate?

Seokjin has his back facing you, the thin, white material of his shirt clinging sinfully to his skin. Every second spent with Seokjin was the best form of punishment in both ways “Are you going to sleep?” You don’t think that was going to happen anytime soon, now that you’re once again blessed with his visuals and perfectly sculpted body.

Seokjin turns to face you, waiting for your response. You shake your head no, eyes unabashedly staring at the outline of his six-pack. The man lets out a cough, drawing you out of your reverie. “Wanna keep warm for a bit and talk over hot chocolate?”

Why do you get the feeling it’s not just hot chocolate that’s going to keep you warm tonight?

“Sure.” Your voice comes out small, swallowing loudly as he unlocks the door to his room.

The tension in the air is so thick that you’re actually having difficulty trying to breathe normally. Seokjin sets his wet hoodie on the floor before meeting your eyes, pupils already dilated. He momentarily holds his stare, eyes raking all over your equally drenched body. He points a finger sideways, “Hot chocolate.” Subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, unable to form any coherent words in your head.

As he heads towards the kitchenette, you rub your face with your hands, before placing a hand over your chest. “Calm down, girl. It’s not like you’ve never seen abs before.” This is like Paris all over again, and you weigh the possible outcome of this situation. If you’re reading the signs right, Seokjin is clearly just affected as you are. Are you really willing to wear your heart out on your sleeve like this one more time? You rack your brain for answers, yet all it does is betray you with images of the rippling muscles underneath Seokjin’s shirt.

Ah, fuck it.

“Jin?” you call out as you reach the wall separating the kitchenette. Just as you peek through the divider, Seokjin rakes a hand through his temple, his hair now pushed back and forehead visible. You practically hear your resolve shattering into pieces.

Taking initiative, you close the distance between the both of you, connecting your lips with his in a feverish kiss. He tastes spicy – just like the ramen you’ve shared just minutes ago, but god, your favorite ramen and Seokjin’s lips; if that ain’t the hottest combination in the world – both literally, and figuratively.

You kiss Seokjin fervently like you’re going to crumble if his lips aren’t connected with yours. One hand of his raises to get rid of the scrunchie holding your hair up in a ponytail, and he lets his fingers card through your wet hair gently. The intensity of his kiss practically devours you, his hands grabbing hastily at your clothes. He’s itching to take them off your body, yet you feel the hesitation in his actions, waiting for that sign from you before he can do so as he pleases.

Pulling away to take a breather, you tug your hoodie up and off you, with Seokjin helping you with the task. "You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this, fuck." He seizes your mouth with his once more like a man starved.

Seokjin groans as he finally gets a view of the amount of lace you’re wearing underneath your hoodie. “I’d love to have you in your lingerie another time, but for now, let’s get you naked for me, hmm?” You’re barely allowed a second to fully comprehend his statement about lingerie and another time before Seokjin discards of the red lacy bra you have on and attaching his lips to one of your nipples.

Gasping at the sensation, you arch your back so that you’re practically pressing your chest against his face, greedily asking for more. Hooking a finger inside the waistband of your gym shorts, Seokjin easily tugs your shorts down along with your underwear.

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to the counter for his convenience. You shiver slightly when your ass comes in contact with the coldness of the marble. As if on instinct, your legs spread wider, seemingly inviting him to come closer to you.

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

“Mhmmm,” your words are muffled as you ardently kiss him. Seokjin brings his lips back to your breasts, biting and pulling at one while the other gets kneaded under his palm. Equally just as impatient as you are, Seokjin lets a hand trail in between your bodies, tentatively brushing against your core to gauge your reaction.

Your body quakes in anticipation, and Seokjin teases you even further by slowly rubbing the pad of his finger on your clit. “Jin, please,” you beseech. “Gotta prepare you first, baby girl.” Letting your head fall back at the sensation (and the pet name!), Seokjin decides to give you what you want, seeing as though you were wet enough that taking his cock right now won’t be a problem. He finally slides a finger inside, your body trembling at the intrusion. God, it’s been too long.

Okay, honestly speaking, you really didn’t take interest in another man when Seokjin entered your life three years ago, and now that you’re back here in this compromising situation with his finger sliding in and out of you languidly, you feel like you could just cum at the thought of it alone.

Seokjin adds another finger, continuing the pace. You moan wantonly as Seokjin curls his fingers, your velvety walls clenching around his digits. He can tell you’re getting close, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

Without having to slide his fingers out of you, Seokjin grabs at one of the chairs and pulls it towards himself so he can sit.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer, merely centimeters away from your cunt. Your cheeks are set ablaze at his brazen action, opening your mouth to say something, falling speechless yet again as Seokjin’s lips come in contact with your nether lips. The man licks a bold stripe along the length of your folds, your hands instantly finding purchase on his hair as you’ve got nothing else to hold on to. He repeats the action all over again, this time adding his fingers to slide in and out of you and toy with your clit. A few more licks and a particular curl of his digits, Seokjin makes you cum for the first time again in three years, so hard that you’re body’s trembling even after he sets your legs down

You’re breathing heavily, resting your forehead on Seokjin’s temple. “Mind taking a shower with me? It’s important to bathe after running the rain” Seokjin looks up at you, eyes pleading.

“I would, if I’m still able to walk.”

“Who said you were going to walk?” Seokjin maneuvers you on top of the counter, placing his hands under your knees and on your back, carrying you bridal style towards the bath. As soon as he settles you down onto the tub, he turns the faucet on and leaves you there for a moment, telling you that he was just going to grab something from his luggage.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you wait for Seokjin. You slowly feel exhaustion taking over you, but when you hear Seokjin’s muted footsteps against the carpeted floor, your eyes pry open only to see Seokjin in his boxers, holding a bath bomb in his palm. You gulp. This was going to be one hell of a night.

Just like before, Seokjin has you cumming thrice in the bath, once when he took you from underneath, making sure that the water fell perfectly on your clit for added stimulation as he slid his length in and out of you. He’d made you cum when you rode him as well, water sloshing everywhere at your naughty shenanigans in the bath. Even after two orgasms, Seokjin just won’t quit, having bent you over as you faced the wall, pounding you from behind.

Seokjin, with his libido seemingly running 24/7 tells you he wasn’t done with you just yet, saying he’s still got three years worth more of fucking to give you. He wanted to give you the most unforgettable sex of your life, and boy, was he adamant about it.

Seemingly not having had enough of you yet after helping you scrub almost the whole expanse of your skin, he finds himself getting hard again at the sight of you in just his shirt and nothing else. You meant to sleep by that time, but as soon as Seokjin spooned you, you’d felt his clothed erection already grinding against your ass. You no longer kept count of how many times he made you cum.

The sunlight peeks through a tiny slit through the curtains, the heat perfectly hitting your face, causing you to wake up. Your body is sore all over, and as you roll to the other side while stretching out your limbs, you spot next to you empty.

Of course. You’re a fucking dumbass.

Hastily grabbing your clothes strewn across the floor, you head out of his room, tears already brimming in your eyes. Your vision is getting blurry by the second, and you angrily swipe at your cheeks as you feel a singular tear roll down. As you curse Seokjin under your breath, you bump into none other than the devil himself. “Oh! You’re awake?”

You don’t answer, stepping aside so you could go back to your room and rethink your life decisions.

“Where are you going, _______?”

“Out of your room, and hopefully out of your life as well.”

“Wait - ______! What are you talking about?” Seokjin extends his hand to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Seokjin.” The venom laced with your words makes him reel, retracting the arm he had held out to reach you. “I really never meant anything to you, hm? Fuck, I have probably reached desperation to return back into your arms that easily.”

“Desperation? That’s all it was last night? And the one three years ago?”

“I should be the one asking you that question!”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Are you really that fucking dense, Seokjin? You were the one who left me alone in the room that morning, and now you’ve done it again. Congratulations on having a new notch on your belt. And I’m a fucking fool for even thinking you felt otherwise!”

“You think I left you that morning?”

“I’m not done yet—what did you say?”

“You were the one who left that morning!”

“I did not! When I woke up, you weren’t there, nor were you anywhere inside your entire apartment! Do you know how embarrassing that was!” You pause, lips trembling, “F-For someone who actually meant something to you only seeing you as just some one-night stand?! Someone who you could use to get your dick wet?!”

“You like m-“

“You’re missing the entire point here, Kim Seokjin!”

“What’s happening here?” A raspy voice asks, the familiar mop of curly hair coming into view. Rafa?

“Oh my god! You like me, fuck! I could just kiss you right now!” Seokjin doesn’t even hesistate, already leaning towards your face and connecting your lips. You almost melt into his arms at the sensation, but you pull away just as instantly, tears freely rolling down. “Am I really just a joke to you, Jin? Have you ever even taken into consideration my feelings, even once?”

“______, darling. This is all a misunderstanding. Well, I did leave that morning, but I just went out to Rafa next door to shower. I—you looked so peaceful as you slept that I really didn’t want to bother waking you up to tell you that I can’t shower with cold water and it’s like déjà vu all of a sudden and…wait!” Seokjin drags poor Rafael who’s still looks like he’s half-asleep. “Rafa can verify the truth!”

Rafael sighs, once again caught in the middle of something he no longer wants to be a part of. “It’s true, ______. This guy’s pretty much in love with you. It’s just an unfortunate fact that this same guy has plenty of annoying habits that gets him in trouble most times. Just like not being able handle water that is below 26 degrees Celsius.”

You’re looking back and forth Seokjin and Rafa, trying to study their features if they’re being questionable or not. Finding no trace of mirth in their eyes, you turn to Seokjin. “You really didn’t leave me that morning and… today?”

“No. I could never. I’m a fucking dumbass for not thinking about what you could’ve felt that time and today…or telling you that I was just heading out to Rafa’s to shower because for some reason my heater isn’t always functioning…”

“Glad to know you’ve finally acknowledged that you’re a bloody idiot.” Rafa speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin, taking a sip from his mug. Since when was that in his hands? Rafa sees you stare at his mug, and answers your silent question, “Was planning to drink this while it was hot earlier but I don’t see anything wrong with drinking cold coffee while watching a live action soap opera.”

“Funny how a night of fucking like wild rabbits can do so much to people,” Rafa adds, scoffing as he retreats back to his room. You lean your head towards Seokjin’s chest, embarrassed out of your wits. Seokjin puts an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. “Don’t mind Rafa. He’s just jealous.”

“I can perfectly hear you, Kim Seokjin!”

#bts smut #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #ksmutclub #bts fluff #bts angst #kim seokjin #bts jin #jin smut

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softboywriting · 4 years

Text

Fight For You | Part 1

Summary: Your whole adult life you’ve dated mixed martial arts fighters, it comes naturally with working and living in and around the fighting circuits. After a fallout with your now ex-boyfriend you find a new place to start a new life where you find someone who is willing to fight for you as much as you are for him. Will you be able to build something beautiful or will your past come back to haunt you? [fighting] [asshole ex]

Word Count: 13k

Authors Note: None of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics on any platform.

|Masterlist In Bio|

Moving to a new town in a new state is a fresh start for you. After a rough year dealing with an asshole boyfriend, leaving said boyfriend and losing your job, you have to find a new place in life. The world is a clean slate for you and Red Lake is where you’re ready to put down some roots and start over. Your best friend Jodi and her wife live there and they’re the closest thing to a real family you have left so choosing Red Lake was a no brainer.

"So, how's the apartment?" Jodi asks as she unlocks the back door of the gym where she works. Her wife Harlow is the owner and a former female MMA fighter. "It's not too shitty I hope."

"Oh I didn't get the apartment. I got the house on Garden Plaza. The one Harlow said her friend was renting out."

"Oh yeah! Fuck, I totally forgot." Jodi holds the door open for you and you wander into the back storage room. It's full of old mats and various pieces of equipment in need of repair. "When does the truck arrive with your stuff?"

"This week. The drivers said tomorrow but I'm not counting on it."

Jodi pushes open the door to the main hallway to the gym floor and nearly smacks into someone. "Holy shit!" She leans on the door and you step forward to see who she hit or just got scared by.

"Are you okay?" A voice says from beyond the door and a head pops out. "Sorry Jodi."

"God! Why are you here so early!" Jodi asks, ushering you out into the hall. She closes the door and you see a guy in a fitted black shirt and a pair of grey sweats standing behind the door. He's oddly familiar.

"Harlow asked me to come in and...wipe down the mats." The guy stares at you and you stare back. You know him. Those chocolate curls, soft eyes, and sharp jawline are unmistakably familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.

Jodi waves her hand in front of his face. "Shawn? Earth to Shawnie boy!"

Shawn Pierce. Shit, yeah it's coming back to you. Tate trained with him about a year ago when he was trying to get into the western region MMA championship circuit. You were never properly introduced but you did talk a few times. Tate didn't bring you by the gym a lot, he claimed you distracted him.

"You're Tate Greyson's girlfriend right?"

"Ex." Jodi snorts and you shove her shoulder. Shawn raises his eyebrows.

"I was, yes. We're not together anymore." You chuckle and shake your head. "Not that we were ever that together in the first place."

Shawn narrows his eyes at you and you shift uncomfortably. "Did he hit you?"

"What?" Your eyes go wide.

"The bruise on your collarbone."

Jodi leans in and pulls your shirt aside a little bit. "Oh shit, what happened?"

Suddenly you remember the bruise in question. You had fallen off the step ladder in your apartment back home while taking down your plant hangers. "I fell while packing up my apartment." You pull your shirt back to show Jodi more of the yellowing bruise. "I swear Tate never hit me. It's been months since I've seen him."

"Oh thank God." Jodi sighs and pulls out her keys. "I'd kill him myself if he touched you."

Shawn steps back and rubs his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

You lean against the wall as Jodi walks up the stairs to her office door. "No, it's fine. Tate is a bit of a loose cannon, but he never hit me."

"Yeah, he was a tough one." Shawn folds his arms, stretching the tee across his chest and you can't help but stare. He shakes his head. "He never did like to listen, always just wanted to swing hard and fast, no finesse."

"Should have seen him in bed. Same tactic."

Shawn's eyes widen and you realize you didn't really need to tell him that. You flush and he just laughs. "Man he must have pissed you off if you're out here dragging him like this."

"Yeah he did." You roll your eyes at the thought of Tate. Everything he did pissed you off. Silence falls between the two of you and you push off the wall. "I'll see you around?"

"I'm here just about every day." He puts his hand out for you awkwardly and you take it, giving an oddly formal shake. "Are you going to be here a lot?"

"Dunno. I got a job at Dixie's down the street but I work nights. So I might come around a bit."

Shawn drops your hand and runs his hand over his hair. "A waitress?"

"Bartender." You smirk and he grins. "You can stop by, I make a good gin and tonic. I'm allowed discounts for family and friends."

"I'm a friend then, eh?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll be a friend." You look him over and bite your lip. "Maybe more."

Shawn grins and you can't miss the pink that spreads across his cheeks. "You're bold. I like that." He steps back and turns to go out to the main floor. "I should get back to those mats now."

"Mmmhmm." You wave him off. "See ya."

Jodi clicks her tongue and you steps out of her office. "You are so predictable." She says from the top of the stairs.

You jog up to meet her and give her a look. "What? Because I think he's hot?"

"No, because he's a fighter." Jodi rolls her eyes and sinks into her chair as you follow her into the large room. "You only date fighters."

"Says the woman who married one!"

"Hey, I don't count. Harlow is the only fighter I ever dated and I didn't even know she was a fighter when we started going out."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. So I got a type. Whoopty do."

"At least Shawn's a good one."

"You saying I have poor taste?"

Jodi picks up a few large envelopes and stares at you over them. "You're joking right? Tate? Remember that hot garbage of a few months ago?"

"Yeah but Chase before him wasn't garbage."

"Chase was a two month fling while you worked the circuit with me. Was he ever anything?"

You flop down onto the couch under the window that overlooks the gym. "I guess not. So what, Shawn's a fighter and I like fighters. Maybe he'll be a keeper."

"Ex fighter."

"Hmm?"

"Shawn's an ex fighter." Jodi types aways at her computer and you wait for her to continue. "He doesn't fight anymore. What?"

"He doesn't? Why? He looked healthy."

"Personal choice. Harlow has been trying to book him on the circuit for years. He keeps in shape and trains other fighters for Harlow but he's not getting in that ring for anything. It's a shame, he was a two time champion."

You look out the window to where Shawn is running along the mats on the far side of the gym with a towel. You wonder what made him stop competing. A guy like him could take out anyone his weight. No doubt. You'd seen him spare with Tate once when he trained with him. Shawn has the skill, what would drive him to waste it?

_____________________

Dixie's is a hole in the wall kind of place. Definitely a local spot and everyone in town goes there. It's a bar and restaurant that serves your classic American staples, burgers, fries, steak and sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but the food is good and homemade. The day time crowd at Dixie's is mostly families, regular customers on their lunch breaks or afternoon meetups, occasionally a truck driver or two since it's on the edge of the town. The night time crowd at Dixie's is much different, very adult orientated. They didn't let kids in after eight since that's when most of the drunks and party goers start showing up. Most people know to avoid Dixie's for a late dinner lest you be caught up in a fight or have to listen to some guy babble on about the good ole days for four hours.

You work the night shift at the bar. You don't mind, you tended places much worse. Hell, you lived in Vegas for a year after graduation and that's where you learned to bartend. When you're raised in hell, the rest of the world doesn't seem so bad.

"Hey! You made it!" Carrie says from the door to the kitchen. "I was worried you wouldn't come back after last week."

"What? Greg? Please, I've dealt with a lot worse then having a drink thrown at me and being called a raging bitch." You place your purse under the counter behind the bar in a little safe. Carrie didn't fuck around when it came to safety and personal belongings in her bar.

"Oh thank God. Greg is an asshole but if you made it through the night with him I think you'll be alright."

"I worked in Vegas, Carrie." You grab your apron off the wall beside her. "I've seen shit. Greg, ain't shit."

Carrie looks incredibly relieved. "I've had four bartenders walk out because of him."

"Yeah, well, they weren't me." You wave to one of the waitresses, Sammy, coming in for her shift. The two of you hit it off really well last week so you're excited to work with her tonight."Besides, I'd like to stick around."

Carrie pushes open the kitchen door and you follow her in. "Oh yeah? Find a love interest?"

"I don't think I'd call him that yet. But I'm definitely interested." You grab a few plates off the warming table to help Carrie serve them. "We've met before."

"Oh wow, coincidence huh? You just moved here right?"

"Yeah. It's so weird, but he's a fighter who trained with my ex boyfriend a year ago. I guess I'm bound to meet people from the same circuit."

Carrie chuckles and leads the way with her arms full of plates. "You like those fighters huh? We got a lot of those type around here."

"I do." You fall silent as you help Carrie serve the large group of middle aged people at the front of the seating area. As soon as you're done Carrie walks with you to the bar.

"Anyway, those fighters are always coming in here. I don't mind the business of course, they eat a lot. But some of them also drink alot and bar fights between fighters is a nightmare."

"Don't worry, I can handle them." You wipe out some glasses on the drying station and Carrie starts going through the liquor stock to see what she needs to bring out of the back for the night. "I swear, I'm sticking around."

Carrie pauses and looks over at you. "You seem pretty set on it."

"Yeah, I am. Things are good here. I have my own place, I'm near my best friend, there's a hot fighter who I wanna get to know. It's good. A fresh start."

"I'm happy for you dear." Her hand comes down on your shoulder and you look over at her. She's smiling, her big round glasses sitting too low on her nose. She blows a stray curl out of her face and pats your shoulder a few times. "You're a good kid."

"I try to be." You chuckle. "Anyway, looks like it's kicking off early tonight." You point at a group of guys who have just walked in, some fighters by the looks of them. Out of circuit fighters, the kind who drink too much and let their bodies get weakened by alcohol. You scoff to yourself. Frat boys with too many muscles and big dreams but no dedication. A bunch of Tate Greysons'. It's gonna be a long night.

___________________

"Pierce! Focus!" Harlow yells from the office doorway at the top of the stairs. Shawn is standing in the ring with his client for the day but he keeps looking over at you where you're talking to Jodi near the bathrooms.

You look over and bite your lip, knowing you got him in trouble. "Anyways, as I was saying," you turn back to Jodi and she's grinning. "What?"

"Harlow is gonna kick his ass if he doesn't stop gawking at you." She looks up at her wife through the window and she's pacing the office, watching Shawn like a hawk. "You're quite a distraction."

"I don't mean to be. I'm just standing here for fucks sake." You gesture to your jeans and plain tee shirt. "I'm not even dressed up!"

Jodi laughs. "Shawn's just soft, he's got your attention and he doesn't want to lose it. I don't know the last time he had a girlfriend."

"Really?" You look back. "A guy like him has been single for-" Shawn gets clocked in the head. "Oh shit."

Jodi sighs. "Moron."

You jog over to the ring and hold onto the cage, staring at Shawn on the ground. "Are you okay?!"

"Dude, you went down like a sack of bricks." The other fighter says, kneeling on one knee beside Shawn. "Dude?"

"Is he knocked out?" You ask, walking along the ring to climb the stairs at the open entryway. "Shawn?"

"I haven't been hit that hard in years." Shawn groans, eyes closed. "Good left hook, Connor."

"Thanks, but for real are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shawn sits up and holds his head. "Y'know no matter how many fights you're in, and how much training you do, getting hit hurts worse when you're not expecting it."

"Getting hit hurts in general." You laugh and help him up on his feet. "And you would have expected it if you weren't staring at me."

Connor snickers.

"I was not staring." Shawn stretches his arms and shakes off the hit.

"Yeah? Why'd you get hit then?"

"We're sparing."

"Uh huh." You look to Connor. "Did he seem distracted?"

"Very."

"Mmm thought so." You turn and walk out of the cage with a glance back with a small smile.

Shawn calls out to you as you cross the gym floor. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Stop staring at me and actually talk to me is what it means!" You laugh and meet up with Jodi outside the office. "God he's ridiculous."

"He hasn't asked you out yet?"

"No! It's been a week since we met. He just stares at me when I'm here and occasionally says no more than four words to me." You glance over and Shawn and Connor have changed positions so Shawn is with his back to you. "I think he's shy."

"Shawn? Nah. He's sweet, always has been. I think he's just cautious because he knows you just got out of a relationship, and one with a former trainee of his too. I'd be cautious."

"Well light a fire under his ass for me will you?"

Jodi gives you a thumbs up. "I'll get right on that boss. Matchmaker Jodi Price is on the case!"

"Oh shut up. Just talk to him?"

"I will." Jodi grabs her keys from Harlow as she steps out of the office. "We'll be back later honey."

"I'll pick up dinner." Harlow looks out at Connor and Shawn. "If I'm late it's because I've got two man-children to deal with."

"Easy on him. He's got feelings for our girl here."

Harlow rolls her eyes. "I don't pay him to have feelings."

"You're such a hardass, Harlow." You laugh and she smirks. "I promise I'll try not to stop in too much when he's training Connor."

"Yeah yeah." Harlow waves you off. "Get out of here, go have fun."

"Picking up furniture at Ikea isn't fun." Jodi says in annoyance.

"Mmhmm. Sure its not. Bye bye." Harlow walks toward the window to the gym floor and you wave goodbye.

"Come on." You put your arm around Jodi's shoulders. "Let's go build some skeptical furniture and relive the good ole days."

Jodi laughs. "Yeah, the good ole days of duct taped chair legs and book balanced tables. God I hope these Ikea things will be better than our crap back then."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

_____________________

Building furniture is a nightmare. You and Jodi spend an hour putting together a dresser that you end up abandoning in favor of Chinese take out and a rerun of Chopped you hadn't seen before while sitting on the boxes for your nightstand and kitchen cart. You still have both of those items plus your bed frame to build. You'll get to it eventually.

Eventually leads to three days later and you still have the boxes propped against the wall of your living room where you and Jodi abandoned them after dinner. Every day you walk past them and think, maybe that day, but then you keep going. It's not until today, Friday, your day off, that you might actually get them built.

"Hey, what're you doing tonight?" Shawn asks as he steps down out of the cage. You've been watching him spar with one of the other trainers for an hour now after stopping by to help Jodi read over some paperwork for the gyms lease.

"Me?"

He grins. "Yeah, you."

"Building furniture for my house."

He chuckles and sinks into the chair next to you, observing two fighters now sparing on the mats nearby. "Sounds like a wild time."

"Oh it will be. I'll probably decide to get drunk halfway through and just say fuck it again." You laugh to yourself. "Drunk lonely furniture building on a Friday night. I've reached my peak at age twenty four."

"Need some help?" Shawn looks over and you raise your eyebrows. He is really making a move. Finally.

"You sure you don't have some floors to clean or something?" You ask, referencing the last time he tried to get out of your attempt to instigate a date. He is a weird one, definitely interested but hesitant for some reason. You get what Jodi said, about him being cautious because of your past with Tate but it's been almost five months. You're ready to move the fuck on. You gotta make it clear to this man you're ready.

Shawn smiles and looks away. "Okay, fair enough. Just call me out why don't you?"

"Yeah? You realize you've been dragging this out?"

"Yeah yeah. So can I come over?"

You grin and cross your arms. "I guess. What do you drink?"

"Tequila?" He says with a smirk as he starts unwrapping his hands.

"I'm not buying tequila. I don't know about you but tequila fucks me up and I will make some bad decisions."

"Me too, maybe we should go for it then."

"Absolutely not." You reach over and grab Shawn's hand as he picks at a piece of the fabric that's tucked too tightly under another. "How about we just start with some hard lemonade or something?"

Shawn smiles and closes his big hand over yours. "It's a date then?"

"Is it a date?"

"Could be."

"Let's just call it hanging out for now." You place the coiled up wad of wrapping fabric in Shawn's hand. "Now, I'm going to get lunch at Dixie's. You want something?"

"Nah, I brought lunch." Shawn looks over at the sitting area where Harlow has set up a refrigerator, a stand with a microwave and a few little tables with chairs. "Leftover chicken and rice."

You stand and Shawn stands with you. He flexes his hand a few times to work out the stiffness of it being bound too tight in the wrapping. You head for the office stairs to see if the ladies want lunch too. "I'll let you know when I'm heading home so you can follow me."

"Works for me."

"Oh, and don't wrap your hand so tight next time." You point at his hand. "You should know better."

Shawn grins sheepishly. "Maybe someone else should wrap it for me?"

"Maybe." You smile and he just grins.

_____________________

"Hey Jodi have you seen- oh." Shawn leans against the door as he looks between you and Jodi on the couch in the office. It's almost seven and you had completely lost track of time.

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

Jodi holds her half wrapped hand up to show Shawn. "Teaching her to wrap."

Shawn smirks. "Your ex never taught you?"

"Tate didn't like having me around too much when he was fighting. He said I distracted him. So I didn't get to wrap his hands but once or twice."

"What a dick. Well I'm done cleaning up for the day, are you ready to go?"

Jodi raises her eyebrows. "Y'all have a date? And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not a date." You roll your eyes. "He's just going to help me with the furniture."

"So he's gonna be at your house with you alone?"

"Yes." You stand and Jodi unwinds her hand. "Now don't say another word missy." Jodi just snickers and you grab your purse. "Let's go Shawn."

An hour into furniture building and you're sure you're going to combust. Shawn is so big and thick, and close. He's in a pair of tight black jeans and a black tank top, having forgone his shirt almost as soon as you started working. He is just...he's too much. You thought Tate was big, you thought Tate was ripped and he was but not like Shawn. The way Shawn is built and the way he moves so fluidly is just...it's enough to stop your heart.

"Hey, hello?" He waves his hand in your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah?"

Shawn chuckles and leans back on his forearms. "What'd I say?"

"Hello?"

"Nope. I asked you if you wanted to get dinner."

"Oh." You push your hair back out of your face and look up at the clock over your kitchen table. "It's almost eight. Shit."

"So? Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah in the evening, but I didn't mean to keep you this late."

"It's not late?" Shawn laughs. "It's no big deal. I'm off tomorrow. I'll order something and we'll keep putting together this bed frame, sleeping on a mattress on the floor is bad for your back."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you don't just want to stay late to get me on this bed after we put it together?"

Shawn sits up, leans forward onto his hands and knees, face close to yours as he pushes himself up off the floor. "Oh I'll be much more upfront when I wanna do that." He pulls out his phone and you flush hot. "What sounds good? Pizza? Wings? Chinese?"

"Don't you need to eat healthy?"

"I do." He smiles over at you. "It's alright to indulge now and then."

"Oh."

"None of this is going away because I eat some pizza now and then." He gestures up and down himself. "I know that sounds incredibly pretentious but I worked hard for this strength. I'm having pizza." He puts the phone up to his ear and walks around the room aimlessly as it rings.

"Tate never wanted to get dinner. He said it'd ruin his diet." You stand and look around at the scattered pieces of the bed frame and your stomach rumbles loudly.

"Yeah because he was an idiot." Shawn says softly before answering the phone and placing an order for a medium taco pizza.

You raise your eyebrows and he grins. How did he happen to know your favorite pizza? There was no way he could have known or guessed. Taco pizza was not an every day order.

"Thank you bye." He pockets his phone. "Anyway Tate was obsessed with his eating habits. I remember sitting him down and explaining that he actually needs to eat real food and not protein shakes and supplements for every meal. He didn't ever listen though."

"Yeah he was an idiot, okay, but how did you know I like taco pizza?"

"Wild guess."

"Uh uh. Who told you?"

Shawn holds his hands up. "Honest to God, you want the truth?"

"Yeah. Who was it?"

"No one. Seriously, it was a wild guess. I like taco pizza and I noticed you have little taco magnets on the fridge and a taco pillow on your couch so I figured maybe you like them too. Seriously, it was a shot in the dark."

You stare at him slack jawed. He had been in your house for an hour and he noticed your taco magnets? That was...just so...weird? What else did he notice? You look around your room suddenly very self conscious of everything you have sitting on the dresser and nightstand. "I...I don't know what to say about that."

"About what?"

"About how observant you are."

"Oh. Should I not be?"

"N-no, I mean, it's fine? I've just never had someone pay attention to my stuff I guess."

Shawn chuckles and gets down on his knees to start taking the rest of the bed frame pieces from the box. You definitely don't miss how his ass is perfectly accentuated by the dip of his jeans. "Well, I like your place, it's interesting and cozy. Sorry if that's weird, I don't mean it to be."

"It's fine." You get down next to him, eyes still on his butt and he hands you a bag of screws. "It's just different. You're different." He leans forward to grab a bar from the frame and the way his back curves makes you want to grab his ass so bad. It's perfectly round and you just want to feel it so badly.

He glances over with a smile as he sits back on his knees. "Is that good?"

"W-what?" You feel a flush on your cheeks. Was he talking about your staring? Was he good? Because yes, a thousand times yes he was.

"Is it good that I'm different?"

"Oh! Yeah, very good." You smile and look down with a chuckle as you dump the bag of screws into a little Tupperware bowl he hands you that you've been using for small parts so nothing gets lost. "I like different."

"Me too." He grins and you meet his eyes. "Let's get this bed together so we can relax when the pizza gets here."

"Sounds like a plan."

_____________________

"Busy night?"

You look up from the back of the bar and see Shawn sitting a few seats down from you. He's smiling, hair pushed back looking like a damn angel in his white tee. The bar has been crowded for two hours now, a huge bachelor party of some sort taking up most of the space in the building. You and Sammy have been working double time to get food and drinks out as quick as possible. Big parties of guys meant big tips, keep them happy, keep that tip growing.

"Yeah." You glance over to the loud crowd nearby. "Bachelor party."

"I see. Must be fun?"

"For me or them?"

"Both?"

You chuckle and walk down to stand in front of him. "Is it fun making drinks? Yes. Is it fun watching a bunch of twenty some year olds get hammered while getting hit on by every one of them? Not so much."

Shawn waves off a drink offer as you gesture to the bar behind you. "I just came by to see how you were doing. You haven't been by the gym in a few days."

"Oh, you noticed." You lean back and smile. "I've been working doubles. Carrie has had a cold and I didn't want her to push herself. I'm a lot younger, I can't handle a few days of work."

Shawn cracks open a peanut from the bucket on the counter for customers. "You're a sweetheart." He grins and pops the peanut in his mouth. "Glad you're alright though."

"Did you think I was avoiding you?"

"Nah. Well, a little?" He chuckles and hangs his head. "Honestly I thought I fucked up the night we put together your bed."

You step forward and fold your arms on the counter in front of him. "I'd tell you if you fucked up. Trust me, you haven't done anything to put me off."

"Good. What do you say to lunch Wednesday?"

"I'd say I hope you like Dixie's pulled pork special because that's where I'll be."

"You work dayshift again?" He shakes his head.

"Yep. My last double."

"Okay, alright. I'll stop by?"

"I'd love it."

Shawn looks over at the party of guys getting loud again. "I'm gonna head out before that gets too wild. Stay safe honey."

"Bye Shawn." You roll your eyes at his ridiculous pet name and he waves as he heads out.

____________________

"How's Connor doing?" You ask as you watch the young fighter spar with one of the other guys while Shawn is taking a break in the office.

"The kid is insane. He's fast, strong, smart too. He reminds me of myself when I was nineteen."

You look over and Shawn is tossing a stress ball up at the ceiling casually. "Connor is nineteen?"

"Yeah." He looks over with a grin. "Why? Thought he was cute?"

"Shawn! God, no. I'm just surprised Harlow took on a guy that young."

"I was too. I remember when Connor walked into this gym. He was a short little sixteen year old with no intention of doing anything but bulking up a bit."

"He didn't wanna be a fighter?"

"Nope." Shawn chuckles. "He came to take some HIIT classes and some CrossFit bullshit Harlow had let a trainer do for a few months. I think once he saw me and Mike in the ring he caught the bug."

You watch as Connor takes down his opponent, pinning him to the mat. Shawn's right, he is fast and strong for his size. His practice opponent is easily twenty pounds heavier than him and he is taking him down like it's nothing. "You think he's gonna make it to championship finals?"

"He going to make it to nationals if I have any say in it. He has what it takes, he's got the heart and soul of a fighter. You don't see that everyday. I've trained a lot of guys in the last few years and they just don't have what Connor has."

"Has any of your trainees made it to the championship circuit?"

"No. Not yet." Shawn looks over and you chuckle. "What? You think I'm not good at training?"

"Not that. I'm just laughing because your last trainee was Tate right?"

"Yeah."

"He definitely didn't have what it takes."

"He didn't. He couldn't listen, just wanted to do what he thought was right. You'd think when a two time western champion and two time national finalist takes the time to train you, you might try and give a fuck." Shawn sits up and squeezes the shit out of his stress ball. "Tate honest to God pissed me off like no other."

You raise your eyebrows and giggle. How funny it was that the two of you shared the same distaste for Tate. "He was something."

"No. He's nothing and he's never going to be until he gets his head out of his ass."

"Harsh."

"You think so? I'm sure you've thought the same thing."

You smirk. "I've definitely thought worse."

"And I'm harsh?"

"I haven't said it out loud." You scoff and lean back in Jodi's chair. "But someone should."

Shawn stands and walks over to the desk. He leans forward and smirks. "I'd tell that sorry piece of shit every single thing you wish you could say to him. I'd hand deliver it to him right in his smug fuckin jaw."

"Easy tiger." You run your hand up his arm, fingers curling against bicep and he drops his head. "No need for the violence. Fighting is an art not a brawl."

"You-"

"I'm using your own words against you?" You smirk and stand up, checking a message on your phone from Sammy about stopping by for tips from last night.

Shawn straightens up with a grin and shakes his head. "You remember me telling Tate that?"

"It's the first thing I ever heard you say to him."

"Tate is a dumbass for losing a woman like you, y'know?"

"Yeah." You walk around and past Shawn toward the door. "But if he wasn't, I wouldn't have ever found a man worth fighting for."

_____________________

Wednesday afternoon is a shit show. For some reason there are a couple day drinkers in at the bar and they won't stop bugging Sammy. She's covering a shift for one of the other waitresses, Megan, since it's her birthday and she's seriously regretting it. Day shift is supposed to be easy. The worst part being an occasional kid throwing food around. Poor girl.

"I just can't do it," Sammy hisses as she stands beside you at the end of the bar at the wash station. "That guy over there has been harassing me non stop. I've tried everything to get him to fuck off."

You take a look over at the end of the bar and you know exactly which guy it is. He's in his thirties, probably an insurance broker or real estate agent by the looks of his tailored suit and gray temples. He looks older than he should. There's a glass of whiskey in his hand that you served him about ten minutes ago. He's the one you were about to cut off and send packing anyways.

"Want me to make him leave?"

"Do you have a bouncer?" Sammy glances over your shoulder. "Because I don't think he's going to leave so easily."

"Well, how about we make him realize you're not into him?"

"By doing what?"

You smirk and set down your dirty glasses into the sink. "I can stage kiss you. I used to do it all the time with my friends back in Vegas." You look down at the guy. He'd definitely fall for it, he was too drunk to see straight. "We'll make a show of it."

"I don't know." Sammy twists her hands in her apron. "Maybe he'll just leave?"

"Sammy. He's not gonna leave if he thinks he has even an inkling of a chance." You pull Sammy down the bar closer to where the creep is sitting. "It's up to you. He's watching us right now."

"Okay, okay." She shakes her hands out and puts her hand on your shoulder, going up to your neck. You can see her glance over at the guy. "It's working he's watching intently."

"Good." You cup her cheek and bring your other hand up to here jaw and cover her mouth with the side or your palm as you pretend to kiss her. "Is he looking?"

"Mmhyeah."

You pull back and give Sammy a hug before going down the bar to the creep. "Do you need a refill on that?" You ask, pointing to his nearly empty glass. You weren't really going to give him a refill, he'd had more than enough.

"No." He grumbles and stands up. "I'm going home." He passes you his credit card and you settle his tab. "Thanks."

Sammy beams from her spot by the liquor shelves. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Almost every time." You walk over and hand her the ones the creep had left as a tip under his cup. "For you dear."

"Thanks." Sammy pockets the bills and smiles. "I wish I had you years ago."

"Well I'm here now." You ruffle her hair and she ducks away. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Keep an eye out for Shawn? He is supposed to be coming in for lunch."

"Ohhh." Sammy smirks. "You got a little crush on the big boy?"

"Obviously." You toss your bar rag over your shoulder and head for a lady who's just walked up at the end of the bar. "How couldn't I?"

"He's a good one!" Sammy laughs and heads off to check on her tables while you get back to bartending.

_____________________

Shawn never showed up for lunch. You can't say you weren't a little disappointed since you had made plans, but you understand that he may have gotten busy at the gym. Things happen. It isn't a big deal.

You stop by the gym the next day to help Jodi with registration for the fall championship circuit for the western region. She had to have all of the fighters from Harlow's registered and ready to go by Monday. It is a ton of paperwork and you know what to do, so you volunteer to help out before work.

"Can you go get Jack for me? I need to talk to him about getting me a copy of his physical."

"Yep." You push away from her desk and head out the door. The locker rooms are to the right of the main floor of the gym and you head there first.

"Dude, I saw her kissing Sammy."

You freeze and listen to the conversation you've walked up on. It's clearly Shawn.

"So? What's the big deal?" It's Connor.

"I thought she was into me. We've been flirting and stuff and then I walk into Dixie's for lunch and she's kissing the waitress! I thought she was into guys!"

Connor laughs and sighs. "I dunno dude."

"I can be into both." You say, stepping into view and getting a good look at Shawn in nothing but a towel. He's dripping wet and it's so hard to focus on the conversation at hand, you have to look away. "Maybe if you wanted to know what was going on, you should ask me?"

Connor's eyes go wide and he looks between the two of you before ducking his head and squeezing around Shawn to make himself scarce.

"I know you can like whoever you want...I just thought..."

"Shawn." You walk over to him and lay your hand on his chest. He's warm and damp and oh Lord when he shifts you can feel the muscle flex. "Relax. I pretended to kiss Sammy so a guy at the bar would stop harassing her."

"Oh."

"Is that why you didn't show up for lunch?"

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I walked in and saw that kiss and I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry, I should have asked you."

"It's fine. I probably would have been really confused too." You look him over and he smirks. "I swear I'm still very much into you."

"Yeah? Enough to go on a real date?"

"Mmm I think it's time we did. Any plans?"

Shawn grins. "I have a few. How's this Saturday night sound?"

"I'm off. What time?"

"Six? I'll pick you up. Wear something comfortable and not too fancy."

You raise your eyebrows and he just keeps smiling. "Alright. I'll see you then. In the meantime, have you seen Jack? We need a copy of his latest physical for the registration."

"He's probably out on the floor. If you didn't see him, check the backroom because he might be resting on the spare mats."

"In the storage area?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "He likes to meditate and listen to his audio books back there to relax."

"Oh. Well thanks." You pat Shawn's chest and he traps your hand under his, curling his fingers around yours. "Yes?"

He bites his lip and shakes his head before releasing your hand. "Nothing. Go on."

"See you in a bit."

_____________________

"Do you still do photography?" Harlow asks you Friday day while you, her and Jodi sit in their living room while going over travel plans for the out of state fights in this year's competition.

"A little bit. I don't do anything professionally anymore."

"But you have your camera?"

"Yeah of course and my lenses. Why?"

Harlow grins. "If I hire you, will you do the photography for the website? I need pictures of all the guys for the brackets this year."

"Sure I can do that. I think I have a my backdrop stuff still as well."

"You'll probably get to photograph Shawn too." Jodi pipes up from where she's typing away at the laptop. "You could take a few just for yourself."

"Jodi!"

"What?"

Harlow groans and shoves her wife's shoulder. "I'm hiring her for a professional shoot, quit teasing her."

"Yeah yeah."

"What time do you want me to stop by? I'm free this weekend and next Thursday all day. Otherwise I work after six."

"Stop by whenever you want. I'm sure it'll take a few days to get all the fighters done and we have a few weeks before fights start. We'll start with Connor when you do get set up. He's my headliner. I'm banking on him hard so I want his photos to be really good."

"Yes ma'am."

_____________________

"So you're doing photos for Harlow?"

You look over at Shawn from the passenger side of his truck. He'd picked you up at a little after six and still wouldn't tell you where you're going. He did make you change into an old pair of jeans instead of the black skinnies you had on and promised you wouldn't regret it. You're almost convinced he's taking you mudding outside of town because you've been driving for twenty minutes and you're still not sure where the hell you are.

"Yeah, I'm doing photos for her? Why?"

"No reason, I was curious."

"You want me to take pictures of you too?"

"I'm not a fighter in the circuit."

"So?"

Shawn looks over and raises his eyebrows. "So why would you take pictures of me?"

"Because you're gorgeous." You look out the window away from him, heart racing at your admission. "I'd die to photograph you in action. You're a rarity, perfect from every angle. It'd be a treat."

"I had no idea you were so into photography. That's awesome." He bumps your leg and you look over. "I'd love to see what kind of photos you take at matches."

"I've taken some good ones. But like I said, I really want to photograph you."

He chuckles. "Sorry sweetheart. I'm retired." He turns the truck down a dirt road toward a big sign that says Pierce Ranch.

"You have a farm?"

"No, my uncle does."

"Why are we going to your uncle's farm?"

"Because I'm taking you horseback riding."

"What? You're serious?"

Shawn turns the truck into a long driveway in front of a big sprawling house. "Dead serious. My uncle is out of town for a few days and he said we could come out and spend some time out here."

You sit stunned in silence. Horseback riding as a first date. Who thought of that? It's so off the wall and incredibly romantic.

"Should we go back?"

You snap out of your thoughts and look over at Shawn as he kills the engine in front of a set of garages. He looks worried. "No, why?"

"You're really quiet. If you don't want to do this we can just go to dinner or something. I know it's kind of different and-"

"I want to go horseback riding."

"Oh." He smiles big and you can see the relief on his face. "Okay good. I'm really looking forward to having you meet my favorite horse."

You put your hand on the door to get out. "I can't wait."

An hour later and you're set up on a horse named Butters, his favorite, and you're strolling along side Shawn on a well worn path around some trees behind the barns. You were nervous at first, needing Shawn's help to stay on the horse but eventually you got the hang of it.

"So, you must really like horses then?" You giggle, looking over at Shawn during a lull in conversation.

"Yeah. I used to spend every summer here with my Uncle Carlos. I still come out here pretty often when I need to relax and get away from it all."

"Ahh, I can see why. It's nice." You bite your lip and glance over. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" He chuckles. "Usually that's how dates go."

"Why don't you fight anymore?"

Shawn is quiet. You know it's a sore subject, seeing as no one really wanted to get too in depth when they talked about Shawn's past. You're curious though. A man like him with his skills and experience could still be in the ring.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, I-I knew you'd ask eventually." He sighs and guides the horses to a clearing in the trees. He slides off and hitches his horse and then yours to a tree before helping you down.

"Seriously, you seem uncomfortable to talk about it. We don't have to."

Shawn stuffs his hands into his pockets as the two of you head for a bunch of rocks. There's a stream nearby and you can hear the water trickling along the rocks you're walking toward. This place is incredibly serene and you feel bad for bringing up such a tense subject when the date has been going so well.

"So, three years ago I won my second championship." Shawn drops down onto a large flat boulder. "But, the fight was so intense I almost killed my opponent. Now I know, fights get rough and tension runs high in the ring when there's a lot of money and a title at stake. It wasn't about that though. I kicked my opponent so hard he dropped, he just went down, lights out. It wasn't until after everything was said and done I found out he had serious brain trauma from the fight, particularly from my kick."

You sit down next to Shawn and grab his hand. He rubs his thumbs over your fingers gently before continuing.

"I found out he had a newborn baby. I accidentally almost killed this man and took him away from his child because of a sport. I had to stop after that. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Oh Shawn." You squeeze his hand and he looks at you. "You didn't kill him though. He's fine, he's alive and with his child. It is part of the risks you take as fighters."

"I know. I just couldn't deal with that sort of thing happening again. I've made my peace with it and with fighting."

"I understand." You scoot a little closer and he runs his free hand over his hair. "You're a great trainer. Maybe being a fighter isn't for you anymore, but your skills aren't wasted this way. Do you want to fight?"

"To be completely honest, yes. I want to fight every single day, I itch to compete and I think that's why I push Connor so hard. I'm living vicariously."

"Maybe you could do some small time stuff? Not such high stakes?"

"I can't." He shakes his head. "When I'm in the ring I don't stop, I fight hard until I'm out or I win. It's all or nothing."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But anyways, I'm happy training." He smiles, soft and small but genuine nonetheless. "I'm proud to be training a fighter like Connor."

"Good. That's what matters." You bite your lip and giggle to yourself. "I much rather see you like this then all beat up anyway."

"Oh yeah? Not into the black eye and busted lip look?"

"Not on you." You reach out and tenderly turn his face to you. "You're too gorgeous to see damaged."

"I'm gorgeous?" Shawn smirks and runs his hand over your hair. "I think you're mistaken. You're the gorgeous one here." He cradles your face in his hand and just stares at you lovingly.

"No, definitely not." There's a moment where you're both staring at each other's lips and you both know that you want to make a move but it's too soon. Or is it?

Shawn's hand slides away from your face and he stands, offering to help you up. "Let's go back. I've got stuff to make dinner."

"You're making me dinner?"

He hauls you up against him. "Mmhmm. You can help if you'd like." He holds you steady by your hips. "How does spaghetti and meatballs sound?"

"Really good."

"Good." He puts his arm around your shoulders and starts walking back to the horses. "Because when we both have garlic breath the rest of the night won't matter."

You laugh and he just beams at you. "You're something else." You run your hand over his back and he leans his head on yours. "I like it, I like you."

"I like you too."

_____________________

Wednesday night comes around again quicker than ever and Dixie's is crawling with people. All the fighters from Harlow's have showed up to celebrate the announcement of the western circuit championship bracket. Shawn shows up a little after nine and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He smiles back and makes your heart beat faster. Things have been going incredibly well with him since the date at the ranch. You're falling hard and fast and you don't really want to stop.

"Hey darling," Shawn says over the loudness as he leans against an empty spot at the bar. "How's it going?"

"Packed! Harlow brought all the guys and their friends and families in! It's crazy."

"Good for business though."

"Very. Carrie is moving faster than I've ever seen her go. We've had to pull Dave from the kitchen twice to help me catch up with drinks. We're gonna need to restock." You laugh and point back at the bar. "My tips are racking up fast too."

Shawn looks you over in your required black tee and apron. It's nothing special, but you know it looks good on you and so does he. "You deserve every dollar you get tonight. You're working hard."

"I am. Can I get you something?"

"Just a diet coke is fine. I'm taking it easy in case anyone needs a ride home tonight."

You turn around and fill a glass from the soda guns attached to the counter. "Enjoy yourself, you got most of these guys to this competition after all."

Shawn raises his drink to that and smiles. "I'm going to go hang out with Connor and Jack. I'll check in later?"

"I'll be here."

Two hours later and you are pushing through the kitchen doors to find Carrie. There's a guy who's harassing you and he's way more wasted then he should be, you've only served him three drinks and they weren't that strong. You suspect he may be taking something along with his drinks and Carrie won't have that sort of activity in her establishment.

"We've got a problem." You state angrily, gripping the doorway to the walk in cooler. "It's that asshole who's been trying to get my number since he sat down."

"Yeah?" Carrie turns to look at you as she hauls out a box of burger patties for the cooks. "Is he tweaked out?"

"I think so. He just grabbed my chest when I leaned over to hand some drinks to a guy beside him."

Carrie is livid, her eyes look like she could kill a man with her bare hands and possible has before. "Oh he's gone, I'm gonna-"

A loud crash from beyond the kitchen stuns you both and not a second later Dave, the line prep cook, throws open the door to the backroom and says there's a fight in the front area. Carrie drops the box of burgers in the cooler and closes the door as she hightails it to the front with you on her heels.

The scene before you is not pretty and immediately you think that it's one of the fighters involved. You're right. It's a fighter. But not a current one. It's Shawn and he is standing in front of the bar squared up with the drunk grabby handed guy. There is an overturned table and chairs and you think Shawn's already knocked the asshole down once, or he stumbled into the table and fell.

"Shawn!" You try to yell over the crowd but it's way too loud.

Carrie pushes past you and shoves her tiny frame through the crowd. You decide to go around to get behind the bar and as soon as you do you see a mess of shattered glass and ice on the floor.

"Shawn!" You shout, hands cupped around your mouth. "Shawn stop!"

He isn't listening or he can't hear you. Either way he's swinging at the drunk guy again in defense and before anything can get worse, the cops show up. You watch as the crowd separates and drunk grabby hands gets cuffed while Shawn tries to talk to the cops. It's no use and you watch them walk Shawn out of the bar as well.

You lean on the counter with your back to the door as the two guys get escorted out. Great. You can't help but feel like this is your fault. Shawn must have seen the move grabby hands pulled and approached him. You run your hand over your hair and look to Carrie as she steps behind the bar.

"God damn fighters. This is such a mess!"

"Yeah it is." You chuckle dryly to yourself. "It sure is."

______________________

You didn't think you'd ever be waiting in the lobby of a police station at three in the morning but here you are. Harlow was going to come with, in fact she was going to go alone and bail Shawn out but Jodi was absolutely trashed and you know she needed to take care of her over Shawn, so you said you would go. Besides, you wanted to talk with him one on one about the fight and why it happened.

You hear Shawn before you see him. He's coming down the hall behind the check in desk. "What do you mean my girlfriend came and-"

"Hey," you wave and he walks over to you quickly and hugs you tight.

"Thank God you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. What would have happened to me?"

Shawn pulls you back and holds your face. "I couldn't find you after that guy put his hands on you. I was worried you left Dixie's or he did something."

"Shawn, he was wasted. What was he going to do to me? He could hardly stand."

"I don't know. I approached him after I saw what happened and he was talking all this shit like what he wanted to do to you. God it was disgusting, and then I didn't see you around and I panicked."

You cup his face and he has a bruise blossoming on his left jaw. "So your instinct was to fight him?"

"He came at me. I was just going to get some of the guys to help me escort him out but he started swinging as soon as I said he needed to go."

"Well it's done and over with now." You turn and head for the doors. "I'll take you to get your truck at the bar."

The ride to Dixie's is quiet. The dark streets are empty, illuminated only by the soft yellow street lights that have been there for far longer than they should be. Seriously the light is so dim it hardly lights up the road. You turn down the street you live on to take a shortcut to Dixie's and as you pass your house you glance at it instinctively.

You slam on the breaks just past your driveway. "What the fuck?" You put the car in park and squint at your darkened front door, or lack thereof. The door is open, gone by the looks of it.

"Don't get out of the car." Shawn warns, flipping the lock button. "Someone could still be in there. Call the cops and back up out of sight."

You fumble with your phone and put it up to your ear. You report the break in and your street name. As soon as you're done you reverse down the street until you're a few houses away.

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your shoulder. "Do you know anyone who might have done this?"

"No. I have no idea. I don't even have anything worth stealing!" You lean your head on the steering wheel. "I don't understand. Could this night get any worse?"

"Don't say that." Shawn rubs up and down your back. "It's not the end of the world. We'll find out what's going on."

"What if I had gone home from Dixie's? What if I didn't come pick you up?" You look at the darkened house. "What if I was there?"

"You weren't. That's what matters. Look," he points to a police car coming down the street. "Here comes the cops."

"Will you go in with me?"

"Of course. You think I'm gonna just stay in the car?" Shawn grabs your hand and kisses it gently. "Come on, let's go talk to the cops."

An hour later and you've filed a full report with Officer Jones. There was nothing stolen as far as you can see. The house is fine, completely in order except for your room. Your dresser had been torn through and your closet emptied out, bed sheets and blankets torn apart too. You have absolutely no idea what someone was looking for and Officer Jones kept asking if you were completely sure you didn't know who could have done this.

It's nearly five in the morning and you are exhausted. The sun is coming up and the sky outside is getting brighter by the minute. You need to sleep and you don't feel safe in your house with the door broken and your bedroom torn apart.

"Grab some clothes, I'm gonna take you to my place." Shawn says, walking around your mess of a bedroom. "We'll take care of the broken door frame and stuff later."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Come on. I know we're both exhausted so I'll drive and we'll pick up my truck tomorrow. We need to rest, it's been a long night."

You grab a tote bag from your closet and throw a few shirts and jeans in it with some underwear. "I could stay with Jodi."

"I really would feel better if you stayed with me." Shawn takes the bag from you as you grab a pair of shoes and socks by the dresser. "Are you okay with it?"

"Of course Shawn." You join him by the door and lay your hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. We'll go to your place. If you want to take that stuff to the car I'm going to grab my camera gear. I told Harlow I'd start doing photos tomo- today." You sigh. "Well, I'll try and get everything set up after we get a few hours of sleep."

"I'm sure she'll understand." He rubs your back and you lean your head on his shoulder. You're absolutely at your limit, body ready to collapse on the next available soft surface. "I'll be in the car. Don't take too long."

"I won't."

_____________________

When you wake up you have no idea what time it is. Shawn's room is bright and you look around for some hint that he is there. He had insisted you take his bed and he'd sleep on the couch. His bed smells so good, like fresh laundry and his cologne. Warm and spicy, it is absolutely perfect. You reach for your phone on the nightstand and see it's just after noon. There are three missed texts.

Harlow: are you coming by to do the shoot today?

Shawn: I'll be at the gym, take it easy and help yourself to the fridge.

Harlow: nvm please rest I talked to Shawn

You close your eyes and flop back onto the pillows. You promised Harlow you'd be by to take some photos, at least some of the ones for the gym website. You turn over and curl up with Shawn's spare pillow, pressing your face into while opening Shawn's text to reply.

You: is Harlow mad I didn't make it?

Shawn: no. I explained the situation and she's more worried about you than anything

You: tell her I can still make it in to set up at least

Shawn: okay. If u are coming by bring me an extra shirt? I forgot to bring one for post workout.

You: okay no prob.

You glance over at his dresser and then back to the window opposite you that over looks the tree line behind his house. It looks like a nice day, it'd be a shame to waste it but you aren't feeling like going out. You just want to stay curled up in his bed forever. Yesterday was so draining with everything that happened and you don't know how much you can handle without snapping at someone. Rest had definitely helped but you still feel uneasy about the break in. It just seemed so targeted like Officer Jones said, but you can't imagine what someone would want from you.

Eventually you get up and make your way down stairs to the kitchen. Shawn's place is beautiful, it truly is. It's very much like a modern cabin and you're not surprised since it's just outside of town in the woods. He's got a few neighbors but it's not like a usual neighborhood setting.

You grab a protein bar from what you assume was once a fruit basket. It looks good enough and you grab your purse from the living room, stuffing one of Shawn's tees into it before you head out. You pause, looking down at the white shirt hanging out of your purse. You go back into the bedroom and take a blue shirt from Shawn's dresser before stripping off your top and pulling the white tee on over your head. It's a little big but it fits well enough and you smile to yourself in his mirror. You grab your purse and head for the front door.

The drive into town is quiet, a little long, but it's nice. It's one long road that winds around the woods in a circle and then turns out on to Main St that you take all the way into town. It's basically a cul-de-sac but in the woods. The whole time you wonder if you should stop by the house and check on it, or if you should call Officer Jones and see if they have anything to go off of. You're really banking on one of your neighbor's having a security camera or something that spotted the intruder. Though your street is so dark at night it's hard to see anything anywhere.

You turn into the lot behind Harlow's and park beside Jodi's Jeep. You unload your backdrops and stands, carrying everything in the back door. You're met with Connor whos grabbing some tape for a mat from the storage room and he offers to help.

"Look who I found," Connor announces as you walk out onto the gym floor with all your stuff in hand.

Shawn walks over from boxing with a stand up bag. "Hey darling," he takes your camera bag and stand case. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes." You smile softly. "Your bed is very comfortable."

"I'm glad." He rests his hand on your lower back. "Is this my shirt?"

"Maybe."

He grins and kisses your cheek. "It's all yours now. Looks good on you anyway. Any word from Officer Jones?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll call tonight or tomorrow."

"You can stay at my place as long as you need to."

You stand up on your toes a bit and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Alright love birds break it up." Jodi says loudly, clapping at the two of you. "Before you start getting set up I wanna talk to you about what happened, I need to know who I'm going to skin alive."

"We don't know anything yet Jodi." Shawn says with an eye roll. "I told you that."

Jodi snorts. "I'm still going to kick someone's ass."

"I promise I'll let you know who to hunt when we hear back from the police." You say softly and Shawn gives you another kiss on the head before heading back over to the cage with Connor. Jodi puts her arm around you and the two of you head to the backroom that isn't full of old equipment to set up your camera.

_____________________

Photos go well, you manage to get all the guys done in a few hours. You'll go home later and look them over to decide if you need to reshoot anything. But for now you are finished and starting to pack up.

"Hey, you forgot one."

You turn and look at Shawn standing in the doorway to the backroom where you're set up. "I did?"

"Yeah. Me." He grins and steps in, closing the door behind him. "I thought you couldn't wait to get photos of me."

"Well, I figured I could get them any time."

"Oh? You think I'll pose for you whenever you like?"

You smirk. "You might, but I want to take candids of you."

Shawn wraps his arms around you and you lean back into his chest. "Candids huh?" He noses against your ear, hand going over your stomach. "Like private candids of me in my bed, laid out on the sheets holding my-"

"Shawn!"

He chuckles deeply and you can feel your body get warm, heat pooling between your legs. "Is that not what you want?"

You turn around in his hold and run a hand over his hair. "I want so much more from you then a couple of photos."

"Yeah? Tell me what you want."

"Oh you know...all the good stuff."

"The good stuff?" He walks you back against the backdrop and you bring his head down, foreheads rolling together. "This kind of good stuff?" He asks lowly before he kisses you softly.

"I know why you came in here." You whisper between kisses, hands going up and down his back. "You're jealous."

He lets out a growl as he kisses along your jaw. "You think I'm jealous of my fighters?"

"Your fighters hmm?"

"Mmm. I'm partnered with Harlow." He pulls back to look down at you. "I own the gym with her. I thought you knew?"

"No, I had no idea. She seems so bossy and it's called Harlow's so..."

Shawn plays with the ends of your hair, twisting his finger around bits of it. "She already had the place, I just bought in with championship winnings to keep it open. She runs the business side with Jodi and I run the gym floor as you can tell."

"Wow. So Connor and the other guys in the circuit this season is a huge deal for you."

"Yeah. A win from one of them could mean we expand Harlow's, new equipment, more fighters. With four guys going this year we have a good chance, and with Connor, we have the odds in our favor, I think."

You grin and shake your head. "Our first kiss and here we are talking business. Y'know if you were anyone else I'd have left by now."

"But I'm not anyone else." He leans in and bumps his nose to yours. "I'm special huh?"

"Oh you're special alright."

Shawn gives you one more kiss before he laughs and pulls back. "Let me make it up to you. I told Connor I'd go to dinner with him at Dixie's to talk about his first fight and what to expect. We can go a little early and have some time to ourselves first. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a date."

"Oh it's not necessarily a date, but it could be."

You smile and he just holds your hips looking down at you. "Come on, enough staring like weirdos. I'm hungry."

____________________

Dixie's is packed when you arrive but you manage to get a table near the bar that's a small two seater. You see Carrie running around like a mad woman and two of the day time waitresses are running around behind her. The place is popular this time of year with fighters and their crews moving into town and nearby during the first part of the western circuit. That's what Carrie told you anyway during her briefing on what to expect and how she deals with the increased number of fights during this time of year.

"Is that Connor?" Shawn asks, pointing to a table behind you. "What's he doing here so- oh I see."

You turn and look over at where Shawn is pointing to a corner table where Connor is and leaning on the table in her work clothes is Sammy. You smirk, it's about time they talked. Sammy has been eyeing Connor for weeks but she's hesitant because he's a fighter and she knows what the lifestyle entails.

“They’re kids, leave 'em be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sammy is a good girl. I’m not worried about it.”

“She is. She also knows what it’s like to live with fighters. She told me her brother was a fighter.” You shake your head. “I think she said he went north to try for the canadian championship but he didn't win and ended up settling down up there”

“I knew her brother Devin, we fought a few times.” Shawn smiles over his drink. “The guy was really good, he gave me a run for my money.”

“Oh yeah? Did he train at Harlow’s?”

“No, no it was way before then. When I was nineteen he was twenty one, we went a few rounds in my first championship entry. I didn’t win that year, I got too cocky and big headed. He was a tough dude though, if Sammy is anything like him she’ll keep Connor in his place.”

You chuckle. “Sammy is very shy, I’m not sure she’s like her brother at all.”

“The shy ones are the ones you gotta watch out for.” Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes.

"Anyways, you said I could stay at your place again?"

"Mmhmm." Shawn smiles and chews on his straw. "I definitely don't mind."

"Good. I'm nervous about going home until we find out more from the police. It's feels like such a personal attack since they went through just my bedroom and didn't even take anything." You shake your head and lean you chin on your hand on the table. "They didn't even take jewelry. Someone wanted something from me."

"Maybe they thought it was someone else who lived there?"

"I don't know. I hope there is video footage from one of the neighbors that shows us something."

"They're gonna check with the neighbors for you?"

"Yeah, Officer Jones called while I was photographing Gauge. He said they're gonna canvas the area, ask for surveillance from anyone nearby and see if they can't get a suspect or even a car or something."

Shawn leans back and crosses his arms. "Y'know I was actually thinking, do you think it could be Tate? I didn't want to say something about him to the cops but is there something you have of his?"

You raise your eyebrows. You hadn't thought of Tate being a suspect. Hell, you were two states away from him now and it's been months since the break up. "I don't think I have anything. I gave him everything back, all his clothes and anything he ever bought me. I left it all in a box in our apartment."

"It was just a thought."

"No, it's a good one. He is crazy enough to do something like that." You roll your eyes and flag down Carrie to pay for your drinks. "Maybe I can call him, or I could try his sister Maggie."

"I'd try Maggie if you have a good relationship with her. If it was him he probably won't want to talk to you."

Carrie stops by the table and hands you your bill. "Have you seen Sammy?"

"She's over there with..." You look around for her and Connor but neither are at the table in the corner anymore. "Well she was here. Is she working tonight?"

"Yeah. Her shift starts in five minutes." Carrie takes your cash and you wave her off for change. "You say you seen her?"

Shawn chuckles. "She was with Connor."

"The fighter?"

"Yeah, my champ." Shawn stands and gives you a look and you nod, letting him know you don't mind if he goes looking for the two of them. "I think I know where they are."

Carrie raises her eyebrows. "Well if you find her, tell her to get her ass to work."

"Yes ma'am." Shawn smiles. "See you at the house." He squeezes your shoulder and heads for the front door.

A minute later Sammy comes walking in very flushed and you can't help but smile to yourself. She's got a flower tucked into her hair and you think her and Connor must have been sitting out on the patio since the flower is definitely from the pots out there.

____________________

You get to Shawn's place a little after eight. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's there. The sun is starting to go down and you are tired from working on photos and stress from the break in. Your brain is absolutely taxed. All you want is some dinner and a soft bed. You turn the handle to the door and walk into music blasting from the kitchen. It's some eighties hair band and you chuckle to yourself as you walk across the living room to find Shawn around the corner shadow boxing at the stove shirtless.

"What's for dinner?" You laughs and he looks back around with a grin. "Smells good!"

Shawn turns and shuts off the music on his phone. "It's chili. I figured it's pretty easy to throw together since I got home just a few minutes ago."

"Why not order something?"

"Eh, I like homemade." He stirs the pot around. "I haven't had it in a while, I thought it'd be nice."

You walk around the island and take a look into the pot. It's not chili. Well, it is, but it's not what you were expecting. "What kind of chili is this?"

"Chili Verde. My dad's recipe. Wanna taste?" He spoons some out to cool in a little bowl on the counter. "I promise it's good."

You smile. "I'm sure it's very good. What's in it?"

"Pork, onions, green chilies. I cheated and used a bottle of premade chili verde salsa for a starter since I don't have time to stew tomatillos and green chilies for hours." He spoons some up for you and you take a bite. "Good yeah?"

"Hot." You cover your mouth. "It's kinda spicy but I like it. It's good."

Shawn beams and scoops out two bowls to cool. "I'll finish getting dinner ready, go change and relax."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for making me dinner."

"Of course." He kisses your nose and your heart skips. "Go on."

Post dinner you're sitting on the couch with Shawn watching some ghost hunter show. He's got his arm around your shoulders and you're tucked into his side snugly. It's comfortable, being with Shawn feels incredibly natural. He's warm and safe.

"What're you doing next Sunday?" Shawn asks as he tucks his feet against yours where your legs are outstretched on the ottoman. "I was thinking if you're available we could go out."

"I work the late shift but I can see if one of the guys can cover for me."

"I don't want you to miss work. We can go another day."

"No, I want to go. It'll be a nice escape from the stress around here." You run your hand down his forearm and slide your hand into his. "Are we going to go horseback riding again?"

Shawn squeezes your hand. "Nope. I have another idea."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling." He grins at you and you narrow your eyes at him. "I can surprise you again can't I? It's more fun that way."

"I'd like to see what tops horseback riding."

"I have a few ideas. Don't worry." He glances at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "I should go to bed, I have a seven o'clock session with Jack tomorrow." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Do you mind if I take the bed?"

"Nope. I don't mind sharing."

"Sharing? You're ready for that?"

You push off of him and stand up, putting your hand out to him. "I'm ready for anything with you."

He takes your hand and stands, pulling you against him. "Anything huh?" He runs a hand over your hair. "Falling a little fast aren't we?"

"I don't mind." You wrap your arms around his middle. "We work well together. I've never felt this comfortable and free around someone before."

He hums. "It feels natural. I completely understand."

You scratch at his back gently and he smiles down at you. "Let's go to bed. You need to be up early."

"Mmm I could always reschedule if we wanted to stay up late." He runs his hand down your back and over your butt. "I'm sure Jack won't mind."

You shake your head and laugh. "No, you're not cancelling work because of me. We can sleep together any time."

"Well don't make it sound like we're an old married couple, jeez."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly. "Maybe it's good practice for the future."

"Wh- oh." He grins. "First kiss and you're planning our future all in one day? Damn."

"Oh shut up." You pull away and head to his bedroom. "Come on, chop chop. The bed awaits."

_____________________

You wake up in the middle of the night and you're freezing. It doesn't even feel like there is a heater on in the house. You roll towards Shawn and slide your arm around his middle, spooning him from behind. He shifts. A soft grunt followed by a mumble of incoherent sleep laden words. He's like a furnace, body radiating into yours.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm." You press a kiss to his hair. "All good now."

"I missed this." He places his hand over yours on his chest. His heart beats in time with yours, a cadence of comfort in the night. "I missed being held."

"It's been a while?"

"A long while. I didn't like to date when I fought. I only wanted to focus on my work." He chuffs. "I'd deprive myself to be the best. Stupid huh?"

"No. You thought it'd help. It must have, you did win." You flex your fingers against his skin, blunt nails scratching him lightly. "Do you like being the little spoon?"

"Love it. There's something about having someone smaller than you curled up and wrapped around you that I just love. I do like being the big spoon too, but I really enjoy being held sometimes."

"I'll hold you any time." You give him a squeeze and he tangles his legs with yours. "You're like a big teddy bear."

He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep to the sound of his soft breathing and the beating of his heart under your fingertips.

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

End Part 1

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

Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be out sometime in the future as I have to write the ending still, but it’ll be another 13k at least. Thank you all again. - A

#stories #fighter trope

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Opia

Vampire!Shinsou x fem!reader

warnings: none yet. swearing. (Shinsou probably gets a little obsessive or possessive because of how vampires can be)

A/N: Oh boy here I got throwing a fic out here while I definitely have other shit I need to work on. I just love... vampires. Manipulation and bloodlust and shit. Can’t get better than a good ol’ fashioned vampire story in my book. I’m stoked. (This might have a little Kirishima action eventually. It might even have a little KamiSero action. I’m a mess and I love these boys)

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Night One

Him.

You could feel all the molecules in your body vibrating—pulling you before your brain could even register that you were moving towards the center of the room where you first laid eyes on him.

He sat on the loveseat Kaminari got for fifty bucks at a garage sale and glanced up at you with mesmerizing, indigo irises that nearly glowed in stark contrast to the bruise-like shadows underneath his eyes. Ropes of wooden beaded necklaces hung off his neck and fell into a loose bastion shirt that exposed sharp, impressive collarbones. He looked like someone ripped out of time and placed at this musky party full of hormonal hoodrats and masculine menaces. He was a prince among men: pale, handsome, and perfect in a sort of haven’t-slept-in-one-hundred-years sort of way.

He raised one neatly cut eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up when he caught you blushing after you realized you were staring, and at once, everything in your mind went blank aside from one simple command:

‘Come here.’

Your feet took two automatic steps towards the couch as you stared bashfully at the man smirking up at you. He spread his thighs apart, his long legs making it so there was no way you could comfortably sit next to him, but in that moment, you didn’t want to be next to him; his lap seemed a little too inviting and you wanted to be on top of him. You thought for a moment that after his hand slid over the top of his lap, you saw his ringed thumb tap down on himself. An invitation.

‘Closer.’

The voice inside your head dripped like honey: enticing, sweet, and irresistible. You could tell that your hands were sweaty when you reached up to nervously pull at your jacket strings. Your natural instincts were telling you to turn on your heel and leave, maybe even go home, but the voice flooded you with warmth and reassurance; it told you that you were not in any danger. And why would you be? You were at a party, surrounded by people, and all you were doing was approaching a cute boy sitting alone on a couch.

Your knees were now a hair away from purple-haired-couch-kid’s and you felt stupid for not being able to say anything to him, but the only thing your mind was telling you to do was to climb into his lap! You scrambled to recall the normal way people greet people, and it only got harder when the guy looked you up and down like you were something to be eaten.

You clutched down on your plastic cup and gulped harshly. “Hel-!”

“Looks like you could use more beer!” Came the friendly bark from Eijirou Kirishima, one of the kids who was renting a room in the house you were in. He tipped his bottle into your cup, filling it halfway full. He didn’t have any nasty intentions in doing so; Kirishima was just the kind of guy that would want to satiate a friend if he saw that they were thirsty.

“Thanks,” you said, cheeks burning as you took a step away from the couch-kid. You were a bit peeved by Kirishima’s interruption, but it wasn’t like there was anything to interrupt to begin with. You couldn’t choke out a simple ‘hello’ to the stranger.

Stealing a glance back down to him, you saw that the purple-haired guy didn’t look too pleased about Kirishima being there either. Kirishima didn’t seem to even notice him sitting there while he rolled an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, have you seen Sero?” Kirishima asked, walking you towards a wall where the two of you could better hear each other over the thumping music that shook beneath your toes.

“Um, yeah.” The last time you’d seen Hanta Sero, he was duct-taping another tenant, Denki Kaminari, to a rolling table so Kaminari could drink from a tap upside down. “He’s with Denki.”

Kirishima’s brows knitted together. “Behaving?”

“What do you think?” You laughed, resisting the urge to look over Kirishima’s shoulder to see the couch. You didn’t want to make it too obvious that your interests were somewhere else entirely. Kirishima was a good guy who deserved your attention.

“Aw, man… We’re really trying to keep this party tame. We don’t want the cops called on us again.”

Just then, a crash sounded in the backyard followed by the tinkling of shattered glass. Kirishima cursed under his breath and then covered his mouth, ashamed to be using foul language in front of you. You shook your head.

“You doin’ alright, Kiri?”

“‘m fine. Just a little stressed is all. Kaminari promised he’d be better at keeping order around here. I didn’t even wanna have a party. Well, no, that’s a lie, but-“

Another crash came from the room where Sero had Kaminari taped up. Hoots and guffaws told you that they thought that whatever they were breaking was a riot- the wincing Kirishima apparently thought otherwise.

“Do you need help?” You offered.

“No… I couldn’t ask you to do anything around here. It’s Kami’s job.”

“I’ll tell you what. Let me clean up outside and you can bring Denki out to see me doing his chores. I promise I can make myself look extra solemn over it, too.”

Kirishima pursed his lips, looking like a puppy with a treat dangling over his head. “You don’t… have to,” he sided unconvincingly.

You grinned. “Let me clean and in return, you can introduce me to the hottie with the purple hair.”

Kirishima scratched his head. “Jirou?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his shoulder. He snickered and bounded off into the other room.

After gathering a broom and dustpan, you made your way to the backyard, trying unsuccessfully to peek through the window to see if the purple-haired-couch-kid was still on the couch, but people filed into the house to see what all the ruckus Sero and Kaminari caused was about. You thought yourself stupid for thinking too hard about this random guy, but you found that the more his sleep-ridden eyes whirled around your head, the more you wanted to see them again. This rarely happened. You didn’t go to parties to hookup... anymore. Hell, you hardly ever went to parties at all anymore. You just wanted to see and catch up with a few friends, and from what you could tell, they were just as disastrous as usual. You weren’t counting on becoming so drawn to another human being, but it seemed as if you were beyond all help.

Kirishima towed Kaminari out to the back just as you were sweeping the last of the many glass shards that were strewn across the patio floor. You put on your very best going-out-of-my-way-because-I-care-for-you-not-because-I-want-to face, wiped theatrically at your forehead, and let out an over-dramatic sigh. Kaminari bought your act immediately.

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that!” The drunken blonde rushed to take the broom out of your hands and swept at nothing but dust. “I’m real sorry about this. Lemme clean the rest!”

Sero slumped behind Kirishima, throwing an arm around the redhead while he took a swig from his drink. He said, “she wouldn’t have to clean up messes for ya if you weren’t busy dicking around on the table.”

“You put me there!” Kaminari complained, as if he didn’t suggest that Sero tape him up in the first place.

“Excuses, excuses!” Sero tutted back and took another long gulp of his beer, emptying the bottle.

“He’s right,” Kirishima said to Sero, “you’re lucky I don’t throw both of your asses out on the street- I wouldn’t do that in the presence of an angel.” Kirishima sent you a wink.

You snorted. “I’m far from angelic. I’m exchanging hard labor for boys.”

Sero raised his bottle, a blush apparent on his cheeks. “I’m a boy.”

With his broom still in hand, Kaminari snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I, too, am a boy.”

Sero clicked his tongue.

Kirishima, your knight in shining armor, grabbed your hand and ushered you away from Kaminari’s advances. “And I am a man that happens to know that this lil’ lady has no interest in either of you numbskulls.”

“Ha!” Kaminari pointed a wobbly finger at Sero. “He called you a numbskull!”

“He called you a numbskull, too, jaggoff,” Sero muttered under his breath as you and Kirishima slid past him.

While Kirishima pulled you in through the thrum of partygoers, you could feel your pulse quicken in anticipation. It was a ludicrous concept—getting this excited about seeing a guy who you didn’t even know never made you this anxious in the past, but there was something about the way he looked at you. It was like he wanted you, but he wanted… more than what you could offer, too. The thought made you want to give everything to him. What in the raging hell was wrong with you?

“C’mon, show me who you were talkin’ about,” Kirishima prompted, interrupting your train of thought. You were about to point at the kid on the couch, but when you saw him again, your heart fell.

There was a girl in front of him. By the look of her pretty, sleek-black hair, you could tell that it was something-something Kodai. You didn’t know her well, but you knew that guys found her hot. Hell, you thought she was, too, but in that moment, you couldn’t focus on how hot Yui Kodai was—you were all-consumed by a sharp, raging jealousy you didn’t think you’d ever experienced before.

Purple-haired-couch-kid peered up at her with disinterest, a good sign, but he had his hands on her hips, the worst sign! You felt your cheeks burn as you watched Yui sink into his lap, her hands pressed up against his ivory chest.

And then those indigo irises landed on you.

‘Too bad,’ that sultry voice drawled out in your head with mock-sympathy. ‘You snooze, you lose.’

When he pulled the back of Kodai’s hand to his lips, you had to force yourself to look away.

“You good?” Kirishima asked, not seeming to notice the two people getting a little too intimate in the middle of the room.

“Yeah. Fine,” you lied, not understanding why you had to lie to begin with. You couldn’t help the pessimism from crawling across your skin while you tried and failed not to think about how this whole scenario could have been avoided. You battled the concept that if you had just said hello to him from the start—

No. Screw that.

You had to think better for yourself. The thought of fighting for a guy’s attention was repulsive.

“You sure?” Kirishima frowned at you, and honestly, bless him. Most people wouldn’t be as attentive as he was.

“Yeah,” you assured, “I just decided that I didn’t wanna waste my night on boys.”

“Smart move,” Kirishima chuckled, once again throwing his arm around your shoulders. “And besides, who needs boys when you’re in the presence of a man?”

“You’re right-“ you leaned into him. “Who needs ‘em?”

‘Need and want can be vastly dissimilar concepts.’

That loquacious purring reverberated inside your head had your skin prickling. You fought the urge to turn back to him with Yui Kodai sitting in his lap. You weren’t so much of a voyeur as you were strictly curious... or burning with envy. Who’s to say you weren’t just some rapidly jealous pervert? You hummed and Kirishima took that as an invitation to slip his hand down to the small of your back.

‘He’s not who you want.’

Kirishima’s cheeks were dusted in pink when you looked up to him. He grinned, covered his sharp teeth, looked away, and looked back at you. He was sweet, handsome, and you always enjoyed hanging around him, but you were clouded with guilt. You didn’t want to be around him at the moment. You didn’t want to be around anybody, really.

‘To be fair, I don’t want this little lady, either. Her aroma is very… plain.’

The voice was getting too weird to ignore. This wasn’t just your long-repressed, touch-starved imagination. This wasn’t you at all. It was him. It had to be him.

‘But we all must endure some more unpalatable necessities to survive, right?’

No, no, that was crazy. Throwing your dignity out the window, you decided to look back—just for a moment—just to see him. Once you could get over your sudden and assertive heartache and move on, you’d be cured of your swiftly acclimating insanity.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because the moment you turned to face Kaminari’s ugly garage sale couch was the moment you saw purple-haired-couch-kid bite into Yui Kodai’s wrist.

Night Two

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha@rizamendoza1987, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten@captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#bnha x reader #vampire au #vampire!shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #vampire x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #i shouldnt be starting something new lmap but GOT TO #bnha yandere #yandere bnha #yandere male #LMAO*#opia

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stripper-patrick · 4 years

Text

Let off steam 😤 Oscar Diaz

Warnings: smut, filth, angst, language, choking, arguing, fluff, good ole act right

Tags: @mrsbanreswillseeyou

Relationship: Oscar Diaz x black plus sized reader

I’m sitting at my desk typing away a paper when I hear a gasp and women stare at me. I roll my eyes and get back to work until I hear someone clear their throat. I look behind me and gasp seeing Oscar with a bouquet of sunflowers. I smile but then realize where I am “outside please now”

I get up and grab his husky shoulders pushing him outside. We go right out the front door and I take a deep breath

“Mami what’s wrong”

“Oscar I appreciate the gesture but I told you never to come here” I only call him by his first name when I’m dead ass serious or mad

“Why you got someone here you don’t want me to know about?” I’m taken aback by his statement

“No it’s because I told you the day I had the interview they asked if I had any affiliation with the Santos”

“And you don’t” he says through gritted teeth pulling out his dimples

“You are my boyfriend. You are apart of them. Me and you are a team. What the fuck? Why does that not make a clear ass correlation?”

“And I told you from day one you had nothing to do with them”

My boss walks out and I fold my arms looking down “Y/N deal with your personal manners on your own time” she looks at Oscar in disgust.

Oscar is about to snap and say something but I cut in “Yea I gotchu” he leaves and I look to Oscar “you can’t come back here”

“The fuck do I care about what they think of me?”

“Because it’s my job Oscar. They will fire me”

He seethes through gritted teeth “I told you that I got you”

“No Oscar I don’t wanna depend on you. Can you just please never do that again”

“Whatever” he leaves taking my flowers

“Really” he ignored me walking off. Oscar drives off in his car while I return back to my desk.

“Y/N I need to speak with you for minute” I nod getting up and going back with her to her desk. “Please” my boss gestures to the seat and I have a seat in front of her while she sits down as well. She pulled her hands and sighs “Was that Oscar Diaz from the Santos gang”

“Yes” i’d like to protest but I’ve always been taught never to give up the information they don’t ask for.

“I’m going to give you a warning because I feel you’re our best worker but if he ever comes around here again I’m gonna have to let you go. We can’t have gang violence near our Business do you understand that?” I nod shaking my head and she nudges her head up to the door requesting me to leave.

....

I get home to see Oscar laying on the couch with a beer in his hand watching TV. The flowers already in a vase on the dining room table of our little apartment “hey”

Silence. I roll my eyes and walking back to our shared bedroom where I change my clothes into something more comfortable like shorts and a big T-shirt. I come back out to see Oscar still where I left him and I sit next to him “Are you dead ass mad at me?”

“You really been wildin lately ma” he takes another swig of his beer glancing at me briefly.

“Spooky I told you from day one they asked about the Santos gang and that it would be a problem if you showed up unexpectedly. They gave me a warning today luckily”

“How would they know if I’m even in a gang or not” i’m blankly stared at him wondering if he serious or not.

“You have a fat ass neck tattoo and a face tattoo” he huffs and stands up walking away. I stand up too starting to get heated. He should know I have a short temper to bullshit. “Oscar don’t you dare walk away from me”

Unfortunately when I get mad like this tears from my eyes threatening fall any given moment. I hate crying in general because it makes me look weak.

“Or what? I already told you the job is always an option for you I got you whether you like it or not” he yells I accidentally blank in the tears start streaming down my face as I breathe through the anger.

“And I told you all my life I’ve depended on a man and that I wasn’t gonna stand for it in my adulthood. You don’t know how many times I’ve been told you wouldn’t have this if it rent for me. Fuck I look like sitting here being dependent off of you” I yell back. I rush past him and go into the bathroom locking the door. I hate it when we argued like this.

I bring my knees to my chest and sob quietly letting out some of my emotions. I hear Oscar sigh and a soft knock appears at the door. ”Mami open the door”

“Go away” I sniffle. I take a deep breath trying to calm down. He knocks again and I get up frustrated. I swing the door open about to yell at him but he cuts me off with a kiss.

“I’m sorry” he says “just please don’t cry because of me” he holds me tight in his embrace scared if he lets go he’ll lose me.

“Let me make it up to you ma”

“Spooky-“ he shushes me and picks me up bridal style carrying me to the room.

“I think you’ve been on edge lately setting aside this incident” he says “snapping at people left and right including me”

He puts me down turning my back to his chest. His large hand snakes around my waist and up to my neck. “And I don’t appreciate that”

“So fuck the attitude out me” was all I had to say before I was bent over with my feet hanging off the bed and my upper body pressed to the bed.

His middle finger moves my panties to the side gliding through my slick “damn you this wet and I haven’t even touched you”

I moan hearing the condescending smirk in his tone. Spooky unzips my skirt pulling it down along with my underwear in one clean swoop.

“Oscar please fuck me” I beg. I hear the jingle of his belt drop and the tip teases my slit.

He pushes in grabbing a fist full of my hair pulling me up. I moan as he completely fills me starting his long deep strokes.

I moan bouncing back on him. He loved to see that sight. Oscar slaps my right cheek gripping it as he obliterates me “who’s pussy is this? Hmm?” He loved showing dominance but he stands equally with letting me be in control too.

“It’s y-yours baby” I moan out extending my arms to grip the sheets. He slaps my behind again “damn right it is”’

“That feels so good” I moan

Oscar moves his hand from my hair to my shoulder going deeper and slamming on my cervix. I cry out in pleasure biting my lip moaning each each thrust.

“Right there fuck it up” I grip the sheets harder hearing his curses and grunts under his breath.

“So damn tight. Ima have you all stretched out by the time we’re finished”

I give out making Oscar put his hands on my waist fucking me harder. At this point I’m moaning loud like a porn star.

“I I want you to soak me Mami. Let me fuck out all your frustrations”

I squeeze my eyes shut unexpectedly cumming all over him. I let out a deep sigh followed by a loud moan. He keeps fucking mr through it until he’s about ready to cum.

Oscar stops and flips me around on my back starting to jerk himself. his eyes shut and his dimples protrude from his cheeks asking me mom is my name cumming along my chest. Strings Of his children cover my chest and I take my finger getting some and sucking it off.

He groans stopping himself once he’s finished “I’ll go get a towel” he walks away and I hear the water run. I just lay there saying up at the ceiling until spooky comes over top of me wiping my chest with a warm rag.

“Feel better now?” He asks throwing the cloth in the hamper

“A lot better” he lays next to me pulling me on top of him.

“Good no more barking at me. If you want dick just ask and I’ll supply.... maybe if you act right” I giggle shaking my head.

“I always get what I want” he sucks his teeth with a smile

“Esa es mi princesa” he chuckles

#smut #fluff #oscar diaz smut #spooky #spooky smut #on my block smut #on my block

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter fourteen: dead witches and apocalyptic cities

"young and free, something you'll never be. a childhood's end it's lunacy. pure dictation, they don't listen: and you're just waiting for what you're missing!" -"a.i.r.", anthrax

The next date following was up in Hartford, followed by the home crowd in New York City. While it had been mostly sunny and with a marine layer on top of that as well, the bunch of them were met with a bit of clouds: Sam thought back to all the times the monsoon flow rolled into the Southwest and into Nevada during the summer. A few small gray clouds against a blue sky and within time, they would be met with a full on roll of thunderstorms, even as she looked up to the sky and the golden sun as it hung over the outskirts of New York. She turned her head and looked on at the low running skyline upon Long Island; in the van ahead of Dan's car was Scott, Frank, and Charlie and the rest of Anthrax's gear. Up ahead of them stood the massive Twin Towers, strong and high against the soft blue sky.

Sam peered into the rear view mirror at Testament's van. The night before in Hartford, they had had a better show but she knew that Alex still had trouble with his amp. He sounded better and he was able to perform a solo on “Burnt Offerings” especially, and yet there was something unique about that feedback solo in Boston. Something unique and powerful even if the crowd hated it. Chuck sounded extra excellent as well: his voice was big and clear, and he even let out the loudest shriek during “Over the Wall.”

“Let me see the horns on you all,” he had hollered out into the audience as Alex bowed his head and let his fingers do the talking. “Let me see you! Let me hear you!”

Louie had tied his hair back behind his head so he could focus more on the drums; Sam thought about what he had said to her the night before in the hotel bed. He had gotten into an affair with Zelda, and yet he broke up with her and yet they still seemed to have feelings for each other. None of it made any sense whatsoever.

Sam nudged her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and then she looked over at Dan in the driver's seat.

“I still have yet to listen to music on your record player,” she confessed to him.

“Oh, yeah! That's right.” He snapped his fingers upon saying that.

“Well,” Joey started from the back seat right behind her, “we've got a day off in between dates so we all can chill out together here in the City.”

“Have a big ol' party with Overkill, too,” Dan added, “the bunch of us with Testament and with Overkill and Danny Lilker, too.”

“The return of the Dans!” Sam laughed, and the two of them laughed with her.

The road merged with the main artery of freeway into the northeastern side of town. The van in front of them took to the lane to the right and they rolled up closer to them, but they never passed them.

“Don't like lingering back in the blind spot like that,” Dan confessed as he backed off a little bit to let the van get ahead. He drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel and he peered over shoulder out Joey's window. “Alright, so—no one behind us—okay—”

He backed off a bit more and then he merged to behind the van.

“D'you see where Testament went?” he asked Sam.

“I bought them coffee and then I boogied back to your car—but Eric didn't tell me when they were leaving, though. Hope they'll show up soon enough.”

“Same here—I haven't seen them behind us yet.”

“Maybe they're in front of us?” she suggested.

“Nah, we would've seen them at some point.”

“We did get gas, though,” Joey pointed out.

“That's true,” Dan agreed with him, “but then again—we would've seen them at some point even there.”

The van ahead of them took to the left lane and then Dan followed suit.

“What're they doing?” Sam wondered aloud.

“This is a quicker way to the hotel and the venue,” he explained, “at least that's my memory of it. We've been out this way a few times before.”

Indeed, that lane of the freeway merged away into the eastern side of the City, a part that she wasn't too familiar with. It was just like the first few days she was there in New York, in which every street felt like a new adventure, even with the way in which everyone on the West Coast seemed to look at that city. New to her and yet some parts of it seemed so familiar at the same time.

“Wait a minute, is this the Bronx?” she asked him at one point.

“Yeah. The Bronx from a different angle, mind you. And we're gonna go right into Manhattan here—the other side of Central Park—I think that's according to Charlie.”

Indeed, they kept on into the heart of Manhattan and all the way around the southern end of Central Park. Their hotel sat near the edge of the park there, down the block from the Museum of Natural History; and Dan said they were within walking distance of the theater.

“This theater rules,” he explained to her as they gathered around the elevator doors up to their rooms. Joey lingered next to her with his sunglasses still rested upon his face. “It's big and yet it's also cozy at the same time. It's like perfect for three bands like us—everything in there sounds good.”

Charlie sauntered up next to them with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Marla's here,” he said in a low voice.

“Marla's here!” Sam echoed. “Where?”

“Right outside—”

The elevator doors slid open and they were face to face with Chuck and Louie. Joey looked over his sunglasses and raised a single eyebrow at them; Louie leaned his back to the wall.

“Hey, you two,” Scott greeted them with a grin on his face, but Sam backed away from there so she could meet up with Marla on the sidewalk outside. She pushed open the door and the Cherry Suicides had pulled up to the curb behind Dan's car in a dark red sedan. Marla strolled up to her with those mirrored sunglasses on: she had recolored her hair into a straight rich apple red with a slight pink highlight all about the crown of her head.

“Miss Taylor!” Zelda called out from the back seat of the car.

“Marla!” Sam declared, and she embraced her right there on the sidewalk.

“I found a place, by the way,” Marla told her, to which Sam gasped, and she threw her arms around her again. “It's in Hell's Kitchen, too. It's a cute little apartment right near the harbor's edge—like it's about a block from the harbor—they allow pets so Genie will be nice and comfy there. The rent is a little high, though, about six hundred a month, but our grants'll cover it, though. There is just one teeny little drawback.”

“What's that?”

“There's only one bedroom.”

“We can have bunk beds maybe?” Sam suggested.

“Bunk beds like at the villa for Kirk and Rebecca's wedding?” Marla chuckled. “But if and when you get a chance, we should check it out together and then we can start the move in there. Bel offered to help us out, too.”

“Did you see Testament's van?” Sam asked her. “'Cause we didn't the whole entire drive over here from Hartford.”

“Yeah, they parked around the corner here,” Marla gestured up the street right behind her. Rosita climbed out with the top hat upon her head and a red velvet corset wrapped about her body. Two women walked past them with glares on their faces, glares pointed right at the Cherry Suicides bass player. Another woman walked by with the sign of the cross pointed at them; she kept on walking towards the corner behind them, right up towards Testament's van.

“Yeah, that's right—a band called Testament is the devil's music,” Minerva laughed at that, and then she rolled her eyes.

“You guys need any help?” Sam offered.

“Nah—but we are gonna have to boogie on down the block here in about an hour, though,” Zelda explained as she hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder. “Let's get on up—second floor, fourth door on the... right, I think?”

Sam and Marla led the way inside towards the elevator, and Zelda kept on walking towards the front desk for the room key. They stood there together with their arms tucked behind their backs as if they awaited for their dates.

“So who you bunking with tonight?” Marla asked her in a low voice.

“Maybe with the four of them,” Sam replied, “Zelda'll tell me. I'm just hanging with the bands because I'm still technically with the label.”

“The label's being bought out, isn't it?”

“Yeah. So I'm being shuffled around like this. I kinda want my own room, though.”

“You know, I was thinking about that when I was coming home from Boston the other day. Like, 'why can't Sam get her own room?' You know a part of the label, unless it really is that fucked up and broke now that they had to get bought out.”

Sam felt a tap on her shoulder, and there was Zelda right next to her with a white hotel key right in between her fingers as if it was her business card.

“Bunkin' with us,” she declared.

“Oh, boy!” Sam said as she took the key. The six of them huddled together inside of the elevator and they made their way upstairs to the room in question.

There were two beds, which meant one of them had to bunk on the floor on the blow up mattress. Sam took her seat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window on the other side of the room. She was so close to her home and yet she still stayed there in a strange hotel room. Rosita adjusted the top hat upon her head: Sam thought back to that evening in the restaurant when Cliff was alive, where she and Lars danced together.

Her acrylic nails shone under the soft morning light.

There was a thump in the room next door and Sam turned her to the wall there. Marla, who stood right behind her, raised an eyebrow at it.

“The boys are already getting riled up for the night,” Rosita remarked. “It's not even eight o'clock, either.”

“I know, right?” Sam had a sinking feeling inside of her chest. She hoped it was nothing more than something that moved in the room next over, but then again, she hoped that Anthrax and Testament had taken to the rooms down the hall rather than next door. Zelda stepped back into the room and peeled off her top, and revealed her little scarlet bra.

“So quick, Zelda,” Marla stated with a straight face.

“Wouldn't it just be something if this was all I wore for tonight?” she asked them.

“Oh, yeah, for real,” Sam remarked with a nod.

“I could put a little bandana around my head, too,” Zelda added, “I'd be like Rosie the Riveter.” She stopped in her tracks, and she turned to Rosita. “You should be Rosie the Riveter.”

“Ha! I ain't givin' up this hat, though.” She lifted the brim of the hat and raised her eyebrows a bit.

“By the way, Anthrax and Testament are across the hall from each other—about three doors down from us.”

Sam and Rosita then looked at one another, and they sighed one of relief.

“There is a bar downstairs by the way,” Zelda told her, to which Sam shook her head.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself, and then she lifted her gaze back up to her. “Want me to go see how they're all doing?”

“Might as well. Like I said, we've gotta be down there soon.”

Zelda tugged down on her shorts and Sam spotted a mark right on her hip bone.

“What's that?”

“What, this?” Zelda pointed to the mark. “It's a primitive makeshift tattoo. I'm thinking I'll get myself a real one some day.” Sam then stood to her feet and then she scurried down the hall towards Anthrax's room, where they kept the door wide open for the whole world to see inside there. She peeked in through the doorway for a look at the back of Charlie's head: he stood before the closet door with his hand rested upon the wall opposite. Scott's big Queens accent caught her ear, followed by Frank's soft voice. She had no idea if Joey or Dan was in there with them.

Their absence made the sinking feeling in her chest even worse.

She then turned her head to the room across the hall: their door hung wide open as well, and Alex sat there right within the line of her sight, right there in his underwear. She peered around to make sure no one else was around her. But he sat there with his back to the wall and he crossed his legs so as to cradle his guitar. He paid more attention to his picking than he did Sam: she noticed he sat there in his little shorts and his tall white socks, even though the window stood wide open to let in the cool air from the impending thunderstorm. He had brushed his black hair back a bit so it spread over the top of his head: the black curls looked a bit more frizzy from the morning light.

But she thought about Joey and Dan, and if they had gone downstairs at all. And yet they had to leave soon.

The Cherry Suicides made their way down the block first with their instruments on their backs, towards the Beacon Theater, and they took the back door in first.

They were met with another series of dressing rooms, but Sam and Marla had to help set up Zelda's drum kit first.

“Three years as a band and we still don't have a proper crew,” she said as she erected her high hat cymbal.

“Three years as a band and you still don't have a record deal yet,” Sam added as she put up her tom tom drums.

“Fingers and toes are crossed, though,” Zelda assured her; Marla set the stool down right in the middle of the kit, and then they doubled back to the dressing room. Joey and Dan still hadn't showed up to the theater yet.

And they still hadn't showed up even after lunch and during the course of the afternoon when the doors opened. Sam figured that Joey was alright and he and Dan had just done something together with each other in the bar in the hotel. But it was easy to worry. She need not worry about him, especially since he was with Dan and not someone else, but it was easy to fall into that trap, especially after the fact they were right across the hall from Testament. She wished for Joey to use his head and not drink too much that he could hardly sing that evening.

She peered out to the audience as some people gathered near the edge of the pit, even though there was no way he would be out there. She needed to let him go, to let him live his own life, but it was hard to not worry about him, especially since she vowed to be a better friend to him.

“Bel!” Marla called out from the side of the stage. Sam turned her attention to the other side of the floor, where Marla had ducked away into the other corridor over there. Sam doubled back and she made her way all the around to meet up with Marla and Belinda.

And then she tripped, and just like at the Stormtroopers of Death show, it was upon a series of cables. But that time she caught herself and kicked them off in one fell swoop. She kept on going towards Marla and Belinda, the latter of whom wore all black for the show that night: her blouse was cropped a little bit to reveal a silver and topaz belly button piercing.

“Ooh, hot,” Sam proclaimed.

“Just got it,” Belinda said with a lift of her blouse to better show it off. “Still a little sore, but not too much, though.”

“Sam needs a little something to make her stand out a bit more,” Marla pointed out with a nod of her head. “'Cause I got the dyed hair and Bel's got a thing in her belly—we gotta be true vixens.”

Sam hesitated for a second, and then she lifted the hem of her blouse and showed off nothing more than her bra.

“Does lingerie count?” she asked them.

“Hell yeah,” Belinda said with a toss of her blonde hair.

“Appropriate for the Cherry Suicides, especially.” Sam slung her blouse over her shoulder.

Joey and Dan still hadn't showed up by the time more and more people congregated out in the audience. Soon, Zelda and Rosita filed out of their dressing room first, followed by Minerva and Morgan. Sam, Marla, and Belinda huddled on the side of the stage, out of the audience's line of sight. The lights turned low and the four girls were surrounded by gold and red lights to bring a little more of that gory mood that they had been trying to hone in as of late.

It was a small audience but they made a lot more noise in comparison to Hartford and even Boston. Zelda held onto her bra straps as if they were suspenders for a second, and then she took her seat on the stool.

“Well, three years as a band and we're finally making some serious headway on it all,” Morgan bellowed into the microphone head over the noise of the crowd. “This is a brand new song to commemorate that serious sense of headway. Headway for a new found romance—a bit of love. Yeah, baby, this is a love song. It's called 'Dead Witch'!”

Rosita led the way in with a distorted bass. Morgan then yelped out and they launched forth like a gunshot. Her powerful voice soared strong and high into the theater: she was taking lessons from Chuck and Joey. Zelda stayed upright in a steady rhythm, but then they reached a bridge, and she picked it up to double time to keep up with Rosita's wandering bass, a line that sounded like that of an actual guitar.

Minerva then joined in with the first notes of a guitar solo.

“This is my sister Minerva!” Morgan yelled out, and people cheered. She launched into a guitar solo, something that they had never done before. Zelda started moving faster and faster on the drums. Rosita did, too.

“Get on it, girls!” Sam shouted as Zelda picked up the pace on her drums. She appeared to be doing a drum solo and yet she was also leading the way in the song. The beat with this song was constant and fast and even simple without a single drum roll, but every time she came to the end of a bar, she made a tight drum roll. Minerva kept going with the guitar solo, and Zelda picked it up with a splash cymbal after the drum roll.

Loud and hard, and powerful, just like the boys.

“This is like going into thrash territory,” Greg remarked right into Sam's ear; Minerva put her leg up onto her amp and perched her guitar atop her thigh. Rosita strode over to her and set the black top hat upon her head, complete with one hand on the bass neck.

“They are!” she exclaimed as Zelda picked up even more splashes on the cymbals. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Sam looked over her shoulder at Louie and Charlie right behind her with their mouths agape.

“Holy shit,” Charlie said. “Girls just went thrash!” Minerva ran her hand up the neck of the guitar for a witchy shrieking sound.

“Minerva's been taking notes from Alex, I see,” Greg leaned in closer to Sam, and she nodded at him in excitement. But as far as she knew, she hadn't seen Minerva with Alex. As far as she knew anyway.

That song lasted seven minutes, and Zelda never even broke out a sweat. “Day of the Dead” was another jam session, which the crowd went insane over into the form of a full mosh pit. Sam thought about what Zelda said about Guns N' Roses, and their blowing the Rolling Stones off of the stage. She wondered if Anthrax and Testament could follow up after such a monolith of a short set. She was about to catch up with Zelda and Minerva, but she recognized those black curls right behind him. He had put on nothing more than a pair of baggy black shorts and some Chuck Taylors.

“Hey!” she greeted him, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Hey!” Joey echoed her. His eyes were clear. He hadn't been drinking. She almost threw her arms around him, but then Scott called his name.

“I'll see you in a little bit,” he whispered to her, and he disappeared into their dressing room.

Testament then took to the stage, as the audience was still loud with the cheers for the girls. Sam returned to Marla and Belinda on the side there.

“Man alive, those girls gave us a kick in the ass,” Chuck declared into the microphone. “Anthrax and the five of us are gonna have some pretty big shoes to fill right here.”

Alex crouched down to his pedal board and he adjusted a couple of dials. He then leaned back and tapped on his guitar strings for a bit of distortion and some feedback. Sam looked over at Louie and his tossing his hair back from his head so it sprawled over his shoulders. And yet, despite everything that happened to the right of her, the audience before her had been riled up by those four girls there. She could feel their movement in her chest, in her bones, and right underneath her feet.

“This first song is so appropriate,” Chuck declared into his microphone, “for our time here in New York City. Written by—our little man over here—” He gestured over to Alex, who gave his hair a slight toss back: the black hair dye had faded a bit more so his gray streak shone under the flood lights on the far side of the room. Even when he turned the other way, Sam made out the sight of that little pearl of a stripe. “—the amazing Alex Skolnick. Only eighteen years old, fresh out of high school. This song is called 'Apocalyptic City'! Get on up!” he said that last part with a low guttural growl.

Eric took a step forward and he bowed his head. He led the way in there, and then Greg and Louie followed. Alex sounded much louder, and quite the comeback in comparison to that malfunction in Boston.

Chuck's voice sounded much more clear and much stronger than before. What an appropriate name of a song for playing in the big city!

The lights caressed over the crowns of their heads: Sam wished for a few red ones to add to the mood.

Alex reached the solo and, much like Minerva, he went off in a five minute tangent, complete with Louie thrashing forth on the drums. It was as if they were all bouncing off of each other. Through the back door on the other side of the curtain, Sam spotted a bright white flash outside.

The thunderstorm! Alex made it rain and thunder!

Five songs later, and Anthrax took to the stage. Even over the roar of the crowd, Sam heard the rain on the roof overhead.

“That was nuts,” Joey declared into his microphone head; he adjusted the brim of a black ball cap upon his head. “Really, those ladies are nuts. Nuts in a damn good way!” He turned his head and Sam saw the word “INJUN” inscribed on the inside of the bill.

“Nuts are tasty,” Scott added into his microphone.

“Nuts are tasty as all of us here in the City'll say,” Joey continued, and a few people in the audience laughed at that. “Nuts in a bit of red. Red on the adolescents. Adolescents in red! A.I.R.!”

They launched forth with the grinding guitar sound and the thundering drums, thundering alongside the feeling of the thunderstorm outside. Joey's voice filled out the room in its high operatic manner, and Sam's heart soared at the sound.

At one point, Dan stood there by the edge of the stage with his foot hovered right over what appeared to be an iron right upon the floor. It was like Minerva and Alex's solos combined, and the white, gold, and red lights all around him only accentuated the grinding sound that resembled to a saw blade. The thunder outside behaved as the centerpiece.

Like hell on earth.

And yet Sam was glad to be a part of it.

Anthrax played a full set, one of ten songs, and complete with Joey running about the stage with that crown of feathers upon his head during that song “Indians”. But it almost felt as though they played long into the night by the time they closed out with that closer from Spreading the Disease, “Gung Ho!”

Before midnight, they retreated back to their dressing rooms, and Sam spotted Alex down on the floor outside of their door.

“Hey, are you alright?” Marla spotted him as well, and he shook his head.

“I don't get it,” he confessed once they came within earshot. He knitted his eyebrows together and he bowed his head as if he had been shamed.

“Don't get what?” Marla asked him.

“They all loved Danny,” he said, “and they all thought I sucked. I suck at this.”

“Hey, now, you rocked!” Belinda proclaimed.

“They loved Danny and they loved Minerva—didn't bat a lash for me.” Marla then stooped down closer to his face.

“He'll never be you,” she whispered to him; Alex stared on at her, still with that wounded look on his face. “Listen to me, Alex—he will never—ever—be you.”

Sam and Zelda crouched down next to her so as to join in.

“He'll never have your sense of the guitar,” Belinda continued, even though Sam knew she was grasping at straws.

“He'll never have that sexy little plume of gray atop your head,” Zelda pointed out from behind them, and Alex frowned and hunched his shoulders at that. She sighed through her nose when she realized that she had hit a nerve there with that.

“But he'll never be you, though,” Sam assured him. “Never! He could never be Alex—” She stopped, and he lowered his gaze to the floor underneath him. “—Alexander—Alexander Skolnick.”

“Well, we have a day off between dates, though,” Zelda added, still from behind them. “Time to relax and regather your bearings for a day, Alex.”

“Yeah, and a full day before I join the boys on another tour stop,” Sam pointed out as they gathered together.

“We are right down the street from the museum, too,” Marla pointed out.

“Never been there,” Sam added.

“It's Saturday, though,” Belinda then said.

“Damn it.”

“Some ice cream and a snack then?”

“For tonight or tomorrow?” Marla asked Belinda.

“Tomorrow. We can bring the little man here with us to kinda lift his spirits, too.”

“Not us, though,” Eric said from behind them, and the three of them turned towards him and the guitar case over his shoulder, already packed to go.

“Where you guys going?” Sam asked him.

“We're going to a place called Eindhoven,” Eric replied, “a festival over in the Netherlands. But we're gonna be recording it for a live album, and then we're gonna come back here for the southern part of the States with our pals Overkill. Then we're gonna be in Nor-Cal with Megadeth, and then we go home.”

“Well—damn.” Sam thought about leaving the camp behind Anthrax to join Testament with their dates, and yet she couldn't. She couldn't leave Joey behind like that. “So we're not gonna see you guys for the rest of this tour with Anthrax?”

“We might come back for the Midwest dates,” he continued, “I'll have to ask Aurora about it because she's got all the info on that. But, until then—” He opened his arms for her and she moved in close to him. It would be the last time she would see them for a while and thus her embrace with him didn't feel so long.

“We've got a flight to catch,” he explained as he embraced Marla and Belinda as well. “C'mon, Alex.”

Alex stood up and then he leaned over closer to Sam, with his expression still serious.

“Middle name's Nathan,” he quipped in a low voice, “just—throwing that out there by the way.”

She nodded at him.

“Okay. I'll remember that.”

His face never changed expression as he followed after Eric. There was so much to him that she still didn't understand, and it would have to take something so intense for a better insight into him. Something far more intense than the music itself.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #testament #testament band #testament fanfic #chapter 14 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #book three #a skeleton in the closet #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #long reads #writing #text

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully / that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the unforgiven'' by metallica

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12raben · 4 years

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Uninstalling Inteen & Nerfing ACR

Edit 07/10/21: I’ve seen, that this post has been liked and reblogged a lot. (Thanks for that!) But I just want to point out, that I changed some parts of my “romance mod system”. The current one can be found here. The information here is still valid, just wanted to clear up, what is up to date. :)

Ok, while some of you might be interested, others might not. For all of you, who are not interested: Here, have a nice picture of the Cullroth’s home and the Sunflower Inn from neighborhood view:

For the ones, who want to know, how I set up the new mods, and are not afraid of a good ol’ wall of text you may continue here:

So, one of the main-reasons, why I wanted to uninstall Inteen, is the fact, that it conflicts with everything, everybody and their cat. I read a post by simgigglegirl, where she explained, how she edited ACR to work with Romantic Standards (a mod I wanted to use for ages), so that was a motivation as well. And forgive me, but I’m getting the creeps, when an elder is heart-farting over a teen, who just aged up (so in my mindset is barely 12 years old). I wanted to get rid of that “feature” as well. ACR is hilarious at times, because sims are horny af, but I wanted the sims of twinhills to be somewhat modest. Drama: Yes. Unneccessary, stupid drama: Meh, sometimes, but -please- not all of the time. Raising the needed STR/LTR for romantic interactions was my solution, so far, but it did not always work. The love-triangle between Moira, Madleine and Hesel is somewhat disturbing. Midgethetree uploaded a mod to add a chance for death by childbirth. And how in the name of someone holy can you play a historical game without that mod? It’s also incompatible with Inteen.

Don’t get me wrong. Inteen and ACR are a great set and I used it for many years and I am very grateful, that people put their time and effort into the mods, so people, who are hopeless, when it comes to mods like myself, can enjoy the new features. And it’s all FREE. Simbology’s Inteen and ACR are still enjoyable and if used carefully do not blow up your game. They enhance your experience and will add many handy features.

Still, I wanted to get rid of Inteen, and so I did. I tried to make my progress as clear as possible, but I don’t know, if I succeeded. At the end of the post will be a list of all mods with links.

First, I made a list of the features, that Inteen had provided so far and I need for my gameplay, which was honestly more time consuming, than I thought. I dug through forum entries and mod desriptions just to see, what's even possible and/or compatible. At the end of the day I came to the conclusion, that I need:

teens, who are handled as adults, so they can get married, give birth, take over responsibilities etc. sooner

Chance for miscarriage, which is sad, but a feature, I don't want to miss

Romantic relationships only between adults/elders and teens, who are old enough

autonomy in romantic relationships, but not as strong as ACR, mainly for reproduction

And that was it. I thought, Inteen is such a big thing, surely there is more of it, that I need.... No. XD

So, after getting an idea on how to make the new set-up working (more on that later), I read instructions on how to uninstall inteen. Surely the uninstall-instructions of Inteen are there, but there are a few tips, I found here (post #15). This is, what I gathered; Quick and dirty:

Make a backup. I feel, there is always the need to say that.

Terminate any teen-pregnancy in your game (luckily no need for that in Twinhills)

Delete the Inteen-files in your program files and in your downloads folder EXCEPT Inteenimater_C. It contains the miscarriage memory. Deleting it will cause corruption, when a sim already had a miscarriage. If you don’t want to keep the memory file, you’ll have to delete the memory and all of it’s traces with Simpe and I have no clue on how to do that.

Gather and Install new Mods :D

There is a whole ton of things, I feel like, I have to explain, so you’ll understand, why I made specific changes. Alright. Let’s follow my own list of features, I needed and how I incorporated them with the new mods:

Teens, who are handled as adults & Romantic Relationships between Adults/elders and teens, who aren’t too young That was easy and hard at the same time. I use Midgethetree’s Independent Teens. Teens become for all purposes adults, but they’ll still look like teens. Perfect. Excactly, what I wanted. The only problem with that: The span of independent teens only lasts 7 days in the original setup. I use Almighty Hat’s Aging mod, so my sims spend 24 days as teens. (In Almighty Hat’s calculation one year equals 4 days. Which make the lifespan of teens 6 years, from 14 years old till 20 years old) So, 7 days is really not long enough in my setup. Luckily Midgthetree included Bcons to edit the mod to my liking. My sims will spend 8 days as young, innocent teens, who do not woohoo and if they have romatic relationships, they’ll only have them with other teens their age. The rest of their teen years (16 days), they’ll spent as independent teens, who are for all intents and purposes adults. This also gets rid of the fact, that elders/adults hit on teens, who are way to young. Any sim, who wants a college education, will spent 8 day as a teen, 8 days as an independent teen and 8 days as a young adult, because I use Dave Luv’s Faster College Education Mod, which is very much compatible with Squinge’s Mega College Pack. Only problem, mortia mentioned, when I discussed diffrent alternatives to Inteen with her, is the fact, that independent teens do not go to school. I don’t have a school in Twinhills so far, so that is not a big deal. I think, when the time arrives and I do have a school and a college in Twinhills, I will eighter have independent teens employed in their future career or will make a student career, where they can earn skill points with chance cards. I also use Cyjon’s Edukashun Iz Gud, so the independent teen’s maximum level for any career is level 5, even if they had a A+ grade in high school. The third option (which is my favourite) is to have an actual college/school lot for independent teens, who aspire to have a college degree. The best I can think of right now, is eighter to have a few apartments, where sims rent only a room and can study in the common area or to have them live at home and set up a community lot as a school. Uuh, the community lot could be owned by a sim, who is also enrolled in the education career and his employees are professors. (Who I could add as another pool of marriageable sims... yeah, I really like that idea...) Maybe an idea for the set up of guilds? I have no idea on how to include them in my game so far, so maybe that would be a good start. Maybe it will be a mix of all of the above depending on the sim’s social status? But I digress... Sorry.

Chance for miscarriage That one was easier, than I thought. I installed Chris Hatch’s Alternate Pregnancy Controller. Yes, it also enables teens to become pregnant, even if they are not independent teens. But I myself will have to make my sims reproduce, if the parents are teens. And if I don’t, they won’t. I have full control over teen pregnancies except for teens, who run away or teens, who sneak out. Midgethetree extracted Risky sneak out and Risky Runaway, which matches my taste perfectly. Teens, who rebel and do not follow the rules, aka run away from home/sneak out without their parents permission, are more likely to have a child out of wedlock. *evil cackle* Excellent.

Autonomous reproduction Frankly, when you read through simler90′s complete mod description for romantic standards, it’s so engaging and interesting, I wonder, why this mod doesn’t have more likes. (145 updates?! Come on, even if you don’t like the mod, that is impressive.) I encourage you to read the whole description, because honestly: It made me really excited! The progression of romances in the game are much slower and sims need a little time to warm up before they’ll consider to woohoo. They’ll value their existing relationships and depending on the version you get, it can be based on chemistry. You can add or remove autonomy add ons or get rid of them. It’s highly adjustable. I like this setup much, much more than ACR’s “I just met you and this is crazy, but there’s a hottub, so woohoo maybe?” (Simler90 has also a mod to overhaul the attraction system, you should check out.) Still, I can’t deny the allure of surprise pregnancy, that comes with ACR. Luckily as mentioned above simgigglegirl had the idea to use romantic standards and ACR side by side. She also uploaded the updated ACR-controller, which I think, is really kind. The problem, I ran into, was again the age span. ACR only considers the ingame age, so pretty much all adults in my game are too old to get pregnant this way. But glorious as she is, Almighty Hat included an edited version of the ACR controller to work with her age mod. Simgigglegirl asked Midgthetree for help and I follwed the instructions to edit Almighty Hat’s version of ACR. And lo and behold! It worked out for me! ACR is not uninstalled from my game, but the only option available for sims is reproduction. So, deprived romance sims can still woohoo all the way with strangers like before and knock up/be knocked up, but every other romantic encounter will take time and effort for them. Also, jealousy is handled so much better by romantic standards. The sim will always take into consideration, how serious the relationship has been before they explode and slap the cheater.

Phew. That took some time. As promised here is a list of the mods I use for the intermingling of sims (and the ones I mentioned, but not linked above).

ACR, with an edit by simgigglegirl (follow midgthetree’s instructions on how to edit ACR yourself, if you use a diffrent version of ACR)

Romantic Standards by Simler90 (+all add ons)

New Turn Ons - Young Adult + Education + Aliens + Influential + Travel + Great Dancer + Pet Lover + Great Fighter + Eye Colours + Rich + Poor by SImler90 (You can pick and choose, which version you like the most.)

Age Transition Teens keep loves from Simblogy

Chrishatch Alternate Pregnancy Controller

Independent Teens by Midgethetree

Risky Honeymoon, Runaway, Sneak Out by Midgthetree

Death by Childbirth by MidgetheTree (slightly altered the Bcon, so sims who are younger are also affected, but the chance is significantly lowered, so sims, who give birth in later stages won’t die no matter what)

PregRel by Chris Hatch - look for “pregnancy relationship change“ Original Instuctions: “ For when a sim's pregnancy first shows and those around her realize she's pregnant. If she is a teen living at home (with at least one biological parent) her parents will become furious with her and lose a lot of LTR and STR toward her. Just how furious and how much of a relationship drop depends on her school grades. Parents of A+ students will get a lot more upset than those whose daughter wasn't doing so well at school. If she's married, engaged or going steady and the baby is not from her spouse, fiancé or boyfriend and he figures that out then he will also get mad at her and lose a lot of LTR and STR. If they've never had a woohoo he'll know the baby can't be his, otherwise he needs a logic skill of 300 (out of 1000 or 3 bars) or more to realize. If he has a logic skill of 750 or more he'll also figure out who the real father is and get mad with him as well. There is also a small LTR and STR increase from the baby's father to the mother when he realizes that she's carrying his child. That is unconditional and applies regardless of if they are married or he was just a fling.” If only it would affect reputation as well *sigh*)

NoBiGenderPreferenceDecrease by DeeDee

ACR Asexual Plugin by Midgethetree (For nuns and monks, who should not woohoo)

It's the Proportion -Gestation-Based Age Duration Mod by Almighty Hat

Edukashun Iz Gud by Cyjon

Faster College Education by Dave Luv

Mega College Pack by Squinge

And that’s it. I hope you’ll find this information useful! Please consider install instructions and load order.

Happy simming! :D

#sims #sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 mod set up #sims 2 mods #midgethetree #deedee #finds #simler90 #mods

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frenchfrysplash · 3 years

Text

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 5/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She’s here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

————————————–

Somewhere deep in the dark

A howling beast hears us talk

- Of Monsters and Men, Yellow Light

July 1991

A small girl was staring Jamie down.

"Hmmm." Jamie's gaze flickered between her opponent and her cards. "Got any eights?"

"Go Fish," said the small girl.

"No eights at all?" Jamie asked, incredulous. "None?"

"Nope."

"You didn't have any aces either."

"Mm-mm."

"Or any kings. Or queens. Or jacks."

A shake of the head.

"Are you holding fake cards or something? Am I being tricked?"

The little girl giggled. "Go fish!"

"I think I'm being cheated," Jamie grumbled, as she picked up a card to add to her impossibly large hand. "Poppins, do you think she's cheating?"

"Sam would never cheat," Dani said automatically from the kitchen.

"Right," Jamie narrowed her eyes. "Well, go on then. Ask me."

"Got any twos?" Sam, who was most certainly cheating, asked.

Jamie handed them over.

"I can't believe I'm getting my arse handed to me by a five-year-old," she muttered.

"Please don't swear in front of the children," Dani called.

Jamie's head whipped towards her, eyes round. "How did she even hear that?" She stage-whispered to Sam.

"She has super hearing," Sam whispered back. "That's what Liz says."

"She might be on to something." Jamie looked at the other small girl in her charge, who was leaning against Jamie's arm with a book that looked far too old for her. "What d'you think, Lizzie?"

"Dani's a superhero," Liz said, not looking up from her book.

"Oh?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you say that?"

"She has different coloured eyes."

"That's called het-hetro-hetrachr-hetercho-" Sam's little face scrunched up as she attempted the word.

"Heterochromia," Dani supplied, appearing at the door to the kitchen, smiling softly.

"Yeah!" Sam waved at her. "That!"

"Dani," Jamie said solemnly. "If that's really how you feel, I understand, but we have an apartment together-"

She was cut off by a dish towel hitting her in the face, causing the two little girls to dissolve into giggles.

"Ok, troublemakers," Dani said, ignoring her girlfriend's indignant spluttering. "Dinner's ready. Go wash your hands please."

The two little girls leapt up, and raced for the bathroom. Jamie put her ridiculous hand of cards down and pushed herself up off the ground, groaning.

"I'm getting old," she said, stretching. "Shouldn't be sitting on floors so much anymore."

"You can crouch in front of a rose bush for hours," Dani said, coming over to her. "But you can't sit on a floor for a game of cards?"

"I am filled with complexities, me," Jamie said, grinning.

Dani hummed, and began straightening Jamie's clothes, where they had gotten rumpled from sitting on the floor. She adjusted the collar sticking out over her sweater, and pressed a soft kiss to Jamie's lips.

"Gross!"

The two women broke apart, still smiling, and turned to face the children, now hovering in the doorway, hands out to cover each other's eyes. Dani laughed, and made her way over to them, hands on her hips.

"Alright, alright," she said. "Let's see those hands."

Sam and Liz held out their hands, and Dani inspected them closely, turning each one over, before nodding decisively.

"Perfectly clean," she said. "Let's eat."

She led the little girls into the kitchen, where dinner was set on the table; home-made pizza, with toppings added by Sam and Liz and Jamie, crust made by Dani. Excited, the little girls clambered into their seats, waiting impatiently for Dani and Jamie to sit at their own.

Babysitting the Larson twins was always an experience, one Jamie treasured. Dani hadn't had many chances to interact with kids since Bly, and while Jamie knew she was happy in their life together - with the shop, the apartment, the one-day-at-a-time-but-not-really of it all - she recognized that working with children was something Dani missed. So watching her talk to the two girls about why pineapple was objectively the best pizza topping made Jamie's heart ache in the best way.

"I dunno, Poppins," Jamie said, making a face. "I believe fruit of all kinds should be kept away from pizza."

"I like it," Liz declared. "Can we put pineapple on pizza next time?"

"For sure!" Dani said warmly.

"Absolutely not," Jamie said at the same time.

They pretended to glare at each other from across the table, though Jamie could see that Dani was fighting back laughter.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Dani said to Liz. "We won't let mean ol' Jamie get in the way of our delicious pizza."

"We won't!" Liz said gleefully, shaking her head to add emphasis.

A tug on Jamie's sleeve caused her to look at the other twin, who was leaning over the table towards her with an earnest expression.

"I don't want pineapple either," Sam whispered.

"We'll stage a rebellion, don't you worry," Jamie whispered back.

"What's a rebellion?"

"It's when you stop Poppins here from ruining pizza."

Sam's eyes lit up. "We're gonna have a rebellion!" She exclaimed.

"Can I help?" asked Liz.

"No! You're on Dani's side!"

"I wanna be in the rebellion!"

"Now look what you've done," Dani said, voice long-suffering.

"I feel a little rebellion is good for 'em," Jamie said, leaning back in her chair and resting her arms behind her head. "Builds character."

Dani sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling. Jamie grinned back, warmth swelling in her chest like a balloon.

After dinner they put on The Little Mermaid, which Dani had rented and which the twins watched with wide eyes. This, unfortunately, had the side effect of a sing-along beginning just as Dani and Jamie tried to put the girls to bed. A long, adorable battle ensued, until the kids were fast asleep, and Dani and Jamie were cuddled together on the couch, sipping wine and relaxing.

"God, kids are tiring," Jamie sighed, snuggling further Dani's neck. "You're warm."

"I absolutely blame you for that last burst of energy at the end there," Dani said, fingers trailing through Jamie's hair.

Jamie craned her neck to look up at her. "Oi, what'd I do?"

"'Little bit of rebellion's good for 'em,'" Dani mocked her, accent as terrible as it had been that morning in the greenhouse. "'Builds character.' God you're so full of it sometimes."

"I stand by it," Jamie said, settling back down and nuzzling at Dani's collarbone. She placed a small kiss there and smiled, humming contentedly.

They lay in silence for a moment, Jamie dozing in the comfort of Dani's embrace, Dani gazing at the Star Trek episode playing on TV.

"Have you thought about having kids?"

Jamie jolted into awareness, pushing herself up so she was level with Dani's face, which was still turned towards the television.

"Run that by me again?" Jamie asked, breathless.

Dani turned to look at her, the crease between her blue eyes signalling her seriousness.

"Kids," she repeated. "Have you thought about it?"

"Well, I mean, I, uh." Jamie stopped, breathed in, and started again. "Honestly, Poppins, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't."

Dani nodded, looking away, corners of her mouth curling downwards. "Right."

"With you, Dani," Jamie said, adjusting herself so she could use her other hand to push Dani's chin up, to face her. "You - you get that, yeah? I've thought about having kids with you, specifically."

A humourless smile flashed across Dani's face. "Well, I'm not sure that's physically possible, but I can do my best."

Jamie allowed herself a small chuckle. "We'll come back to that when we're back in our apartment," she said. "But seriously, Dani, have you thought about kids? With, uh." She cleared her throat. "With me?"

Dani didn't answer right away, eyes unfocusing as she seemed to consider this.

"Of course I have," she said finally. Her voice was rough, and Jamie was dismayed to see unshed tears in her eyes. "Jamie, of course I've thought about having kids with you." The tears spilled over, and Jamie felt that familiar panic at the thought of Dani crying rising in her chest.

"Oh, darlin'." Jamie leaned up, kissing her on her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and the corner of her mouth. "I swear I wouldn't be that terrible of a mum. No need to cry at the thought."

Dani laughed, wiping at her eyes. "No, you idiot," she said affectionately. "I think you'd be a great mom. That's the problem."

At Jamie's confused expression, she sighed.

"She could still take me," she said softly. "You know that."

Jamie nodded. "I do," she said, matching Dani's quiet tone.

"So no matter how much I want it," Dani took in a shuddering breath. "It just can't happen. Because then I might leave you, alone, with a child, and I can't-"

Fresh tears came then, and Dani buried her face in Jamie's neck, entire body shaking. Jamie cradled the back of Dani's head, pressing her lips to her hair and murmuring soothingly. After a few minutes, Dani stilled, and pulled back.

"Oh." She tutted. "Your shirt." She wiped ineffectively at the damp spot on Jamie's shirt.

"Don't worry about it, it'll dry." Jamie ducked her head to catch Dani's gaze, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. "Hey, look at me for a second."

Dani forced herself to look into Jamie's eyes, lip still trembling.

"Listen," Jamie said. "I never thought I would even consider having a family before." She paused, lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. "My, ah, history with families isn't exactly great, as you know. And growing up, the way I did, and then realizing I was more interested in the fairer sex, well," she shot Dani a small grin. "I never thought kids were in the cards for me. Thought, even if they were, I would probably fuck 'em up somehow. But you," she laughed lightly, and ran her knuckles gently down Dani's cheek. "God, Dani, with you, anything seems possible, y'know?"

Dani's lips quirked up in a small smile. "You're so good with Sam and Liz, and with Miles and Flora." She shifted, pulling herself further up on the couch. "Give yourself more credit."

"Bit different being a babysitter or an aunt than it is being a mum," Jamie pointed out.

"That's what I mean," Dani said. "You deserve the chance to find that out for yourself."

"Dani," Jamie said warningly. "Don't. Don't go down that road."

It wasn't a new conversation; that Jamie deserved more, deserved better, deserved someone she knew would stick around, wouldn't leave her one night as a ghost took Dani away.

"Jamie," Dani started. "It's not fair-"

"No, it's not," Jamie agreed, pushing up to lean her forehead against Dani's. "It's not fair, because you'd be an amazing mum, and with you, I think I would have a good chance at not making any messes. It's not fair that we won't get that chance."

Dani's breath hitched, more tears leaking out. She opened her mouth, no doubt to keep arguing that Jamie shouldn't have to stay tied to a dead woman walking, but footsteps from the hallway interrupted her.

"Is that one of the kids?" Dani asked, twisting awkwardly to look.

"No," Jamie breathed, staring at the doorway to the hall. "It's not."

Viola smiled back at her sadly, looking more human than Jamie had ever seen her. Still not quite there - like a wax figure at Madame Tussaud's, Jamie thought, but her eyes were no longer cloudy, and she seemed to be almost completely dry. Slowly, Jamie pushed herself up from where she lay tangled in Dani, so she was sitting up straight on her knees.

"It's not fair," Viola said, moving into the room, words dropping like stones into the room. "And I suppose it's my fault, isn't it?"

"Oh," Jamie's mouth twisted, anger welling up in her chest. "D'you think?"

"Yes." Viola stopped at the couch, and sat down next to Jamie, who realized with a start that Dani had disappeared. "None of us really had a chance to be mothers, did we?" She looked at Jamie. "You, me, or Dani."

"You took her away before we could even try," Jamie bit out, fists clenching on her thighs.

"You're angry," Viola observed. "I understand."

"Do you really?" Jamie asked, voice shaking. "You took Dani's life from her. Stole it, before her time. We could have had so many more years together. We could have had a family. There are so many things we are never going to get to do, because you-"

She stopped, closing her eyes and breathing through her nose, nostrils flaring. Slowly, she sank back onto her heels, counting backwards from twenty.

This was not productive, she reminded herself. Her anger would do nothing to help Dani.

"I-" Viola's voice made Jamie open her eyes again. "I understand. How you feel."

Jamie said nothing, fighting to keep her temper under control.

"Well, perhaps not exactly," Viola reasoned, watching Jamie out of the corner of her eye. "I was a mother, but not in a way that mattered. By the time she was old enough to remember me, I was an ill, bitter woman. A ghost, really."

"Ironic," Jamie said stiffly.

Viola chuckled. "Yes." She agreed. She looked at Jamie, eyes dark and sad. "I think I've been looking for her, all these years. I want her to be with me."

Jamie frowned. "You wanted to bring your daughter to be with you," she said slowly. "At the bottom of a lake?"

Viola's mouth hardened. "She's my daughter. Shouldn't she be with me?"

"At the cost of her life?"

Jamie barely flinched at Dani's voice. Somehow, she had felt her before she spoke, standing behind the couch, arm resting next to Jamie's head. She was staring at Viola, eyes hard, brow furrowed, fist clenched.

"I am her mother," Viola said, rising from the couch and turning to face Dani, voice growing louder. "She should have been with me the whole time. My time with her was taken from me. All I wanted was to get back what was rightfully mine."

"Your daughter was a person," Dani said. "She wasn't anyone's."

Viola scoffed. "Of course you would say that."

"Of course she would-" Jamie looked between the two women, eyes wide. "What does that mean?"

Dani and Viola continued to glare at each other, as darkness closed in on all sides around them. Jamie grabbed for Dani's hand desperately, only to watch her fingers slip through it as though there was nothing there.

"Dani-!" But Dani was gone. Viola was gone. All at once, Jamie's vision was filled with a blinding light, and her hearing deafened by a great clap of thunder, and then there was nothing.

Nothing, except-

————————————–

June 1987

The thunder rumbled twice more before fading away, the blessed silence letting Jamie relax back into the couch cushions, unknotting the tension in her shoulders slowly. She eyed Miles and Flora, fast asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace; but neither of them had woken up, evidently exhausted from all the excitement of the night.

It was always strange, being at the manor after dark. Jamie was usually gone by supper, or just after when she was coaxed to stay by Flora or Owen. The great house became unfamiliar to her at night, painted with shadows and strange noises, the life that filled it during the day falling into an uneasy sleep.

But it wasn't so bad now. The sitting room was warm, and Jamie was comfortably ensconced on the couch next to Dani, content that even if Peter Quint had been spotted on the grounds, everyone she loved was in one room, and her shotgun was within reach. The spiked hot chocolate had even loosened her enough to let herself watch Dani out of the corner of her eye, as Dani studied the polaroid of Peter and Rebecca.

"Oh," Hannah's voice, quiet, from across the room, where she had fallen asleep against Owen's shoulder. "God, I'm so sorry, I-truth be told, I haven't slept well for days."

"Oh Mrs. Grose," Owen replied softly. "It is too late now." He gestured to his shoulder. "Go on, tuck in and relax for a bit."

Jamie smiled into her drink as Hannah let her head fall back to Owen's shoulder. Her eyes slid over to Dani, and she felt a familiar hitch in her chest at the sight. This little crush, which she'd been nursing on the au pair ever since Dani had told her she was right to be angry about her roses, was starting to get annoying.

"Rather that was you curled up there?" she murmured, leaning forward and dragging Dani's attention away from the photograph. At Dani's confused expression, she motioned towards Owen and Hannah.

"Every girl in the village is mad for him," she said, rolling her eyes. "And he doesn't even know it, which makes it even worse."

Dani laughed softly, but immediately turned back to the photograph.

"They look like Bonnie and Clyde," she said.

Jamie held back a scoff. "Yeah, if Clyde fucked Bonnie over." She scowled at the photo in Dani's hand. "He got away, she paid the price."

"So, what," Dani turned to her. "He's stalking a dead woman? Risking prison for someone he didn't even bother to bring along? That doesn't make sense."

Jamie sighed, avoiding Dani's eyes and staring at the polaroid. "The wrong kind of love," she said simply. "Can fuck you up. Follow you. Make you do some really stupid shit."

Across the years, she caught a glimpse of brown eyes, a grinning mouth with her name on the lips, and the flashing blue of police lights.

"And those two," she glanced from Dani to the photograph. "Believe me, that was the wrong kind of love."

"We've all been in the wrong kind of love for one reason or another," Dani said.

"Mm, but I saw how he twisted himself into her." Jamie's mouth hardened at the memories, and she missed the way Dani turned slowly towards her, memories of her own flashing briefly across her face. "Burrowed in deep." Dani had turned away by the time Jamie glanced at her, and she averted her own gaze from the au pair's face. "I dunno why so many people mix up love and possession. But guess what that means? He didn't just trap her. He trapped himself." She glared at the Peter Quint in the photo. "And I hope she haunts that fucker forever."

There was a moment of silence, in which Dani gazed at Jamie, and Jamie gazed at the photograph, hating the memory of Peter Quint, mourning the memory of Rebecca Jessel, trying to banish the memory of a body floating in the lake she saw every day.

"People do, don't they?" Dani said softly. "Mix up love and possession?"

Startled, Jamie met her eyes, the air instantly becoming heavier around her. She swallowed, and nodded.

"Yeah, they do," she said.

"I don't think that should be possible." Dani's voice was a whisper, but her words seemed so loud to Jamie, striking her between the ribs and making it hard to breathe. "I mean, they're opposites, really. Love and ownership."

She seemed so earnest, eyes wide and mouth set. For the first time, Jamie let herself look; didn't avert her eyes or turn away, find a reason to look anywhere but directly at Dani Clayton's face. She had feared it might be like looking into the sun too long, and that she would eventually be blinded. But instead-

Instead, she found Dani looking back.

"Yeah," she said, the word so quiet it was only for herself and Dani to hear.

The room narrowed to the couch, to just Dani and Jamie. Dani nodded slightly, something like relief flickering across her face.

"She comes here often, you know."

Jamie's head whipped around, hands gripping her mug hard when she saw Viola standing next to her, pale skin shining a sickly yellow in the light of the table lamp. Viola walked around the back of the couch, her hand trailing over the wooden frame, both Jamie and Dani's eyes following her.

"I'm not sure what it is, about this memory," Viola continued, coming to a stop at the end of the couch, looking down at Dani curiously, who stared back, brow furrowed. "It's not where she fell in love with you. Not even where her affection for you began. She already felt something for you here."

And Jamie knew that. Dani had told her, years from this moment, that her feelings had started earlier than this, when Jamie had consoled her during her panic attack. That she had felt that same familiarity Jamie had when they'd first laid eyes on each other.

But this moment, this conversation on the couch - something had happened here; something they had never spoken about, because they had never needed to. An understanding. More than that, really. Recognition. A deepening of the connection they had both felt in that first moment in the kitchen.

Ah, there you are.

"Viola," Dani started, voice strangely gentle, like she was speaking to a student, but Viola shook her head.

"I have listened to you have this conversation many times now," she said, frustration colouring her voice, as she sat in one of the chairs near Dani. "And I have yet to understand."

Dani and Jamie glanced at each other. Jamie straightened up, placing her mug on the table beside her, and cleared her throat.

"It's about," she paused, looking to Dani for support. "Rebecca and Peter - do you remember Peter?"

Viola shook her head. Jamie frowned.

"You killed him," she said drily.

Viola blinked, and for a moment, she almost looked ashamed. Then it was gone.

"I don't remember," she said quietly. "I don't remember much from this time."

"Right," Jamie said, unconvinced.

Dani reached for Jamie, sliding their fingers together and squeezing.

"It's not about Rebecca and Peter," Dani said softly, eyes on Jamie. "Not really."

"No, I suppose not," Jamie replied, ducking her head and looking at their joined hands.

"My ex - my - Eddie," Dani's breath hitched, and Jamie's thumb started rubbing circles on the back of her hand. "You've seen Eddie. In my memories."

Viola nodded. "You were too good for him," she said primly.

Dani smiled weakly, shaking her head. "No, that's not," she took a breath. "He loved me. But not - he loved the person he thought I was. And more than anything, he wanted me to stay that person." She closed her eyes. "It's like, those cases of butterflies you see in museums. He caught me, and he wanted to keep me, and to never let me change." She opened her eyes again, looking at Viola with a grim expression. "Do you understand that?"

Viola was quiet, brow furrowed. "You didn't love him back," she said finally.

"Not like that, anyway," Dani said, nodding. "Not the way he wanted me to love him."

Viola stared her, unblinking. "But you love her," she said, and her gaze shifted to Jamie. "You love her with everything you are. I felt it. Every day in your mind. I felt your love for her."

Dani smiled, and looked at Jamie. She raised their joined hands to her mouth, and kissed her knuckles.

"Yes," she breathed. "Of course I do. How could I not?"

Jamie smiled at her, though something was niggling at the back of her head.

Blue eyes, she thought distantly.

"I love my husband," Viola said. "And I love my daughter. And I would give anything for them to be with me. Anything. And yet." She stared at Jamie this time. "And yet, you wouldn't take her down, to join you. Even though she asked for it. Begged for it. Even though letting her go meant you would be without her."

"Jamie has a whole life to live still," Dani said evenly, hand squeezing Jamie's almost too hard. "I wouldn't - I couldn't - even if she wanted it -"

"I did," Jamie said quietly, drawing both Dani and Viola's attention to herself. "I would have happily drowned to be with you, you know that."

"I do," Dani said, a little helplessly. "And that's why I couldn't let you."

"I know," Jamie said, one side of her mouth quirking up in a sad half-smile.

"If I had the same chance," Viola said, voice brittle. "I would bring my family to be with me."

"Is that really what you'd want?" Jamie asked, leaning forward. "For your husband? For your daughter? To lay at the bottom of the lake forever? To slowly forget who she is?"

"Daughters should be with their mothers," Viola said firmly.

"Sometimes that's not how it works," Dani said, voice quiet.

"It should be," Viola insisted, eyes flashing dangerously. "It's one thing to let your wife go, but if you had a child you would understand. It's a mother's job to protect her child, to be there for her, to love her, and hold her close, and-"

"Mum?"

Viola fell silent, looking over Dani and Jamie's shoulders with a frown.

"Who-?" She asked, and then her eyes flicked to Jamie.

"Mum?"

The voice was familiar, and Jamie felt herself standing up before she could really think about it, something insistent pulling her towards the sound. Dani's hand slid out of her grasp as she made her way towards the hallway.

"Jamie," Dani said from behind her. "Jamie, what-?"

Jamie kept going, heart thudding in her chest, through the door, down the hall, and finally, stepped somewhere that wasn't Bly Manor, opened her mouth, and said,

#haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #dani clayton #jamie #damie #bly manor #heather writes fanfiction

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aseriesofunfortunatetexts · 4 years

Text

*Hums* Pretty woman, walking down the street, pretty woman...

3700 words, all Ernest, no smut, just plain ol’ wish-fulfilment.

Ernest catches you in the middle of the lobby, carrying a briefcase. “Concierge,” he greets you. “I’d like you to accompany me into the city. I have some important errands to run, and I could use some assistance.”

You pause. What help could you, a random concierge, possibly provide? Also, you know of a certain someone who won’t approve of you spending time alone with Ernest outside of the hotel. A certain someone who is currently standing at the reception desk, checking in a smartly dressed couple and their two children.

Ernest notices you looking in Frank’s direction, and smiles. “I’m also your boss, in case you’d forgotten, and I insist.”

“Well then,” you say. “Should I change into something more casual?”

“Business casual would be ideal. I’ll wait.”

You make your way back to your room, thoughts churning. This could be an opportunity to learn more about your charming adversary, if you play your cards right. That is definitely why you’re feeling excited at the prospect of this little outing.

You didn’t exactly bring a lot of clothes with you, but you do have a pair of black slacks, and combined with the shirt that’s part of your uniform, and the jacket you were wearing when you arrived, you look quite professional. Nice, even.

Ernest must think so too, because just for a second he gives you a frankly unprofessional look of appreciation when you return. You force yourself not to smile at the attention, that would send the wrong message.

You take a taxi into the city, the first taxi ride you’ve ever enjoyed, due to the fact that the anonymous driver doesn’t seem bent on endangering your lives on the way. Sure, Kit would have gotten you to the Financial District faster, but at what cost?

It turns out that Mulctuary Money Management is your first stop. “We loaned money to build the hotel,” Ernest explains as you enter the lobby. “And with business already going as well as it is, Frank has decided that we can increase our monthly payments. I’m going to re-negotiate the contract, and I’d like you to take notes during the meeting.”

“I’m not entirely fluent in financial lingo,” you admit.

“You’ll do fine,” Ernest says, and his confidence in your abilities is comforting enough that your nerves are soothed.

The meeting is shorter than you would have expected. Ernest’s manner is polite, confident, and just a little flirty, and the female banker is obviously quite smitten with him straight from the get-go. It must be nice to deal with customers who are knowledgeable about their case, not to mention being this agreeable. In between making physical notes, you make a mental note to add it to your next report: ‘flirts to gain people’s trust.’

The next stop on your tour is the offices of an interior designer. As it turns out, the brothers are considering an expansion on the second floor to include a Buddhist temple. The designer seems very exited to be considered for the job of furnishing the place, probably because Ernest hints that the budget will be more than a little generous.

Once that meeting has wrapped up, you take another taxi downtown. “Just one more thing on our list. But we need to make a stop on the way.”

“What for?” you ask.

Ernest gives you a mischievous look. “We’re going for dinner, and while you’re dressed perfectly for business meetings, I think you need a dress for the rest of the evening.”

“Dinner?” you repeat.

“No reason to be nervous, it’s still business related. We’re considering establishing a fourth restaurant, and we’ve heard great things about this new place just five minutes south of here. We’re going to sample their menu and decide whether to offer them an opportunity to open another branch at the hotel.” He smiles. “Or just make the head chef an offer he can’t refuse.”

“That sounds devious,” you say.

Ernest smirks. “All’s fair in love, war, and the service industry.”

You’re starting to see that. It’s a cut-throat business, and Ernest seems to thrive in it.

The taxi comes to a halt and you climb out, finding yourself on the sidewalk in front of the largest, and fanciest, department store in the City. You’ve never actually been inside a place like that, and you’re suddenly very worried about your ability to act like you belong in there.

Ernest appears behind you, leaning over you and whispering in your ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy to accompany you.”

“I don’t think I can afford-...”

Ernest cuts you off, “You’re not buying anything, and I think our budget can afford a little shopping spree. Consider it compensation for your help today.”

You feel the urge to object, but by now Ernest is already walking around you and into the store, so apparently this conversation is over. You rush to follow him.

Ernest obviously knows his way around here, because he moves with purposeful strides through the lavish entry hall, leading you to the elevator. Once inside he presses the button for the fourth floor, which is labelled ‘Women’.

You step outside first and come to an abrupt halt. You’ve never seen this much clothes in your life, and you’ve certainly never seen such extreme prices either. Every sign boasts a higher number than the one before. But Ernest insisted, and he must have known what that meant. Speaking of, he’s already moving again, and you follow.

The beautiful young woman Ernest approaches by a row of colorful dressed obviously knows him, smiling broadly and turning her head to offer her cheek, which Ernest kisses. “Laurel, you look radiant as ever.”

The woman, Laurel, blushes and gives Ernest a little smack on the arm. “You’re such a flirt. What can I do for you today, sir?”

Ernest turns and gestures at you to approach. “We have a dinner date to keep, and my companion needs a dress. And shoes. And a clutch, perhaps?”

Laurel’s eyes light up. “Oh, how lovely. I know just the dress for you, my dear. Come along. Mr. Denouement can wait here.” Once again, you follow obediently, feeling an increasing sense of ease in the presence of this enthusiastic woman who seems to know exactly what she’s doing.

The dress in question turns out to be a sleeveless black cocktail dress with lace trim. It’s gorgeous, and way more elegant than anything you’ve ever imagined wearing in your life. Laurel must have sensed your hesitation, because she leans over to you and says, “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think you could pull it off, dearest. Now, you’ll need strapless underthings as well. Any preference?”

“Um, I don’t know?” you reply, because you really don’t have any knowledge of expensive lingerie.

“I’m thinking a bustier. You’ll find that confidence in a dress is boosted greatly by what you’re wearing underneath.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you confess.

“But you will soon enough,” Laurel assures you, already on the move again, the dress slung over her arm.

Once in the underwear section, she picks out a black lace bustier for you and matching panties, by far the most beautiful pieces of underwear you’ve ever seen. Laurel notices your reaction, smiling conspiratorially, “I’m sure this can come in useful in the future as well.”

You immediately imagine wearing this, in a certain someone’s bed, and your cheeks heat up. Laurel chuckles at your reaction but doesn’t comment further. “Now, the changing rooms are down here. You try these on, and I will try to find you some nice heels.”

“Not to high,” you say. “I’m not good at walking in high heels.”

“As you wish,” Laurel agrees, handing you everything, and then she’s off again.

You find the changing rooms and manage to get into the bustier and the dress with minimal difficulty. She was right, you can pull it off, as a matter of fact, you look quite stunning. You’re so busy admiring the dress that you barely notice the curtain parting, revealing a grinning Ernest. “You look lovely,” he says, as you spin around and prepare to admonish him for sneaking into the ladies’ changing room. But the words stick in your throat when you notice what he’s holding in his hands; a box lined with velvet, containing a shimmering diamond necklace.

“That is too much,” you blurt out.

“Oh, we’re not buying it,” Ernest reassures you. “Just renting it for the night.”

“You can do that?” you ask.

“I’m a faithful costumer,” Ernest reminds you. “That gives you certain advantages.”

“Mr. Denouement,” Laurel interrupts from outside. “I don’t believe you should be in -... oh, that will be perfect,” she gushes, reaching for the necklace. “Turn around, dear.”

You do so, and Ernest places the necklace around your throat, then clasps it, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck. The diamonds rest just above your collarbones, glittering in the bright light of the changing room.

“Shoes,” Laurel says, handing you a pair of black heels of modest height. They fit perfectly, despite the fact that she never asked for your shoe size.

“You look flawless, my dear” Laurel coos, then gives Ernest a knowing look, which you catch in the mirror. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Denouement?”

“Quite splendid,” he agrees, smiling broadly.

“Will that be all?” Laurel asks as she gathers your old clothes into a bag, apart from the jacket, which she helps you into.

“The clutch,” Ernest reminds her.

“Of course. We have plenty to chose from, but I would recommend something subtle. Come with me.”

You wobble slightly as you turn and try to follow, and in an instant Ernest appears at your side, offering his arm. “Allow me to assist.”

You accept his offer, and side by side you walk out of the changing room. This close to him, you can smell his cologne, and the warmth of his body is making your stomach tingle a little.

Laurel has picked out three clutches, and Ernest points to the simplest one, about the size of half a sheet of paper, made of black silk. “This one.”

“A fine choice,” Laurel agrees. “Now, there’s just one last detail.”

Ernest reaches into his jacket and produces a check book. “Let’s not tell the young lady the total, she’s nervous enough as it is,” he teases, winking at you.

You would object, but he’s right, so you smile impishly and make a show of turning around and pretending to be busy admiring a nearby rack of dress shirts while Laurel and Ernest settle the bill.

By the time you’ve reached that exit you’ve surer on your feet, but Ernest doesn’t move to let go of you, so your arms remain intertwined as you go outside. You notice to your surprise that the taxi is still parked by the curb. You don’t even want to imagine how much the meter will be showing by now.

The drive to the restaurant is a short one, but long enough for you to start growing worried again. Yes, you already shared an intimate meal with Ernest recently, but this is an entirely different situation. He might claim it is entirely business, but there is not denying that you’re dressed for a date right now. And what’s worse, you can’t help but look forward to it, despite the little knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Ernest offers his arm once more when you exit the taxi, and you automatically take it. It makes you feel more confident, that’s for certain. You straighten your back as you enter the restaurant, trying to appear as if you belong in such a glamorous establishment, ignoring Ernest’s look of amusement that you spy out of the corner of your eye.

The restaurant is simply decorated and dimly lit. You can tell, even with your limited knowledge of interior design, that every piece of furniture must have cost a fortune.

The waiter who greets you looks strangely familiar, but it takes you a few seconds before you recognize him; Larry Your-Waiter. Shit. The entire organization is going to know that you went for dinner with Ernest looking like a million bucks, that won’t go over well with certain members of the leadership.

“Larry,” Ernest greets amiably.

You blink, glancing from at Ernest. You didn’t realize that they knew each other, but you probably should have. Ernest was a part of the VFD after all, they probably trained together.

Larry gives Ernest a pleasant smile, but you spy a trace of coldness in his eyes. There’s definitely some history there. The coldness disappears when Larry turns his attention to you though. His graze briefly flickers from your shoes, to your dress, landing on the necklace around your neck. He looks... impressed. And ever so slightly amused? That’s unexpected.

“Your table is waiting, Mr. Denouement,” he says, gesturing for you to follow him further into the room.

The table is situated smack in the middle of the room, with a clear view of the rest of the tables, as well as the entrance and the door leading to the kitchen, just like the table Ernest picked in the restaurant back at the hotel. A strategic choice if you are a careful minded villain who likes being fully aware of his surroundings. Ernest steps behind you and removes your jacket, then pulls out your chair, just like he did the last time you ate together. It makes you feel quite elegant.

“We will be having a little of everything, and wines to go with it,” he tells Larry.

“As you wish,” the waiter replies. “Champagne while you wait?”

“That would be perfect.”

The champagne is delicious, and you and Ernest make light-hearted small talk while you wait for the food. Once it arrives, you realize that this place must be even fancier than you’d first estimated. You hardly know what half of these dishes are. But you jump right it, and it turns out that everything Larry serves you is utterly delectable.

“Shouldn’t I be making notes about this as well?” you ask, halfway through dish number four.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ernest tells you, “I’m good at remembering food. Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful,” you reply, taking another bite of roasted pheasant. “You should definitely kidnap the chef.”

Ernest laughs heartily at your joke, and you smile in return, sipping your red wine. “We’ll make a cut-throat hotel worker of you yet.”

You shouldn’t take that as a compliment, coming from a firestarter, but you can’t help but feel flattered nonetheless. You put down your empty glass. “I didn’t realize I was on track for a management position.”

“We’re proud of our commitment to providing employees with the possibility to advance,” Ernest says. “Plus, I think you would look great in a manager’s uniform.”

“Not as good as I look in this dress.”

“But almost,” Ernest asserts. He reaches for the bottle Larry left on the table. “More wine?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, sir?” you ask playfully.

Ernest chuckles, pouring you another. “That wouldn’t be very gentleman-like.”

“I guess that’s true,” you say, picking up the wine glass. “And you are nothing if not a perfect gentleman.”

“I try,” Ernest says, lifting his own glass. “Cheers, concierge.”

It’s not that you’re drunk by the time you move onto desserts, you’re just a little buzzed, that’s all. And, as you unfortunately are prone to when you’re buzzed, you’re getting increasingly flirtatious. In your defense, Ernest is encouraging you all the way, with subtle grins and an endless supply of mischievous comments. Nobody would be able to resist the urge to play along.

It’s probably very unprofessional to share a single chocolate mousse with your boss, it’s definitely unprofessional to accept the first spoonful when he extends his arm across the table and offers it to you, a wicked grin on his face. You lean in, stopping just as the spoon is about to touch your lower lip. “This is improper, for a business dinner.”

Ernest twirls his wrist, subtly threatening to withdraw. “Do you mind?”

You answer by taking the spoon in your mouth and sucking off the chocolate mousse. You let out an embarrassing little moan, licking your lips when you pull back again, but seriously, that mousse is amazing.

Ernest’s eyes flash with amusement and undeniable excitement, which would have troubled you just a couple of hours ago, but now? Now your cheeks grow hot and you give him a dazzling smile. “Try it.”

He does, using the same spoon, humming his approval once he’s tasted it. “This is definitely going on the menu.”

You’re so focused on Ernest that you don’t notice Larry approaching from behind you, and when he speaks you jerk back in your seat. Shit, he probably saw everything. That’s gonna look great in his report, ‘they shared desserts, using one spoon.’ You’re going to have to make some excuse in your own report.

“Was everything to your liking?” Larry asks, the question obviously aimed at you, his tone giving nothing away.

You clear your throat, hoping he can’t see how flushed you are in the dim light. “Yes, it was wonderful. Thank you, Larry.”

“We’d like the check, please,” Ernest says. “And give our compliments to the chef.”

Larry nods. “I shall. Just a moment.”

You don’t even want to know what dinner cost, so you don’t look while Ernest writes another check. The accumulative cost of this little outing will no doubt be considerable.

Turns out you’re a bit more tipsy than you thought, as you discover once you get to your feet. You sway slightly, and Ernest’s hands are on your naked shoulders immediately, steadying you. “You all right?”

“Just a liiiitle more buzzed than I’d anticipated,” you admit.

“Red wine is sneaky like that,” Ernest remarks, and now that you’re this close to him, you can tell that he’s a little flushed from the alcohol as well. “Fresh air will help.”

He is absolutely correct, you note when you step outside the restaurant, the chilly evening air hitting your heated body. You pull your jacket closer around you, shivering a little.

“Here,” Ernest says, and then you find yourself wrapped in his suit jacket as well. It’s very warm, and it smells like him. The intimacy of you wearing his clothes is undeniable, but you like it. You like it a lot.

Ernest hails a taxi, and you climb into the backseat together, sitting a lot closer now than you did earlier in the day. That’s nice too, you have to admit.

You pass the ride mostly in silence, but it’s a perfectly easy quiet. That should probably worry you, that you’re this comfortable around each other now, but you’re a little too drunk to analyze the situation at the moment.

It’s not that you need Ernest to hold you steady when you enter the hotel, it’s just that holding onto his arm makes you feel more secure. Right up until you come face to face with Frank, coming out of their office. He takes one look at the two of you – arm in arm, you wrapped in Ernest’s jacket - and his face twists into a disapproving scowl. “Dinner dragged out?” he asks caustically.

“The menu was impressive,” Ernest replies, voice perfectly smooth. He doesn’t let go of you either. “We didn’t want to miss out on a thing.”

Frank lets out a little huff of displeasure. “You can tell me about it tomorrow. I believe the concierge looks like she could use some rest.”

‘She looks drunk’ is what he means, no doubt. Well, you’re an adult, you can drink if you want to. With your boss. Okay, it doesn’t look good, you can acknowledge that. It certainly won’t help Frank’s opinion of you. But it’s too late for that.

“I suppose you’re right,” you say, trying to sound unmoved by his comment.

“Would you like me to escort you to your room?” Ernest asks with no small amount of playful flirtiness in his tone.

You can practically hear Frank grinding his teeth, but you ignore him in favor of giving Ernest a dazzling smile. “If you don’t mind.” And then you leave Frank behind without another word, and you have to admit, you feel a little pleased to have pissed him off this time.

The walk to your room is way too short tonight. When you reach your door, Ernest lets go of your arm. “Thank you for your assistance today. And for your company.”

You really should try to stop smiling like this. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” Ernest says, and then he leans down and plants a small kiss on your cheek. You would have frozen in place if you’d been sober, but now you find yourself leaning into his personal space, just for a second, before you get a hold of yourself and take a step back.

“Good night, Mr. Denouement.”

Ernest inclines his head and does a little bow. “Good night, concierge.”

You’re inside your room when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

***

The hangover you wake up to is manageable, thank God. You make your breakfast tea a little stronger than usual, and then it’s actually all right.

By eight o’clock you’re standing at the concierge desk, sorting through the mail when Frank appears behind you. You pretend not to notice him, until he drops a sheet of paper in front of you. You scan the contents. It’s a list of financial transactions. You check the date in the corner; yesterday. Then you look at the bottom line, and your eyes widen. That’s... a lot.

“I hope you’ll find other uses for the dress in the future,” Frank says drily. “Its price considered.”

“I’m sure I will,” you reply. “It’s a very nice dress.”

Under his breath, you can just hear Frank mutter, “indeed it was,” and then he leaves again before you’ve even properly registered the comment.

#my fic #I want to get dicked down by the Denouements #Ernest Denouement

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monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Monster Match — Baptiste the Rougarou x F Human, SFW

Monster Match for @kwat01

You could see them, just ahead, at long last.

Normally, the sounds of squawks and chirps accompanied your work, leading the way as you followed with your camera, but not this assignment.

Not the cajun flamingos.

The colorful birds were nearly silent, making only the odd low grunt, none of the ebullient chatter you’ve come to expect in your years working for the nature magazine. The spoonbills were foraging in the brackish shallows of the swamp; white heads bobbing and weaving, searching out food in the murky water as the fan boat drifted.

It was a perfect evening–the air was thick and balmy, as you’d determined it always was, here in Terrebonne Parish, and the bayou was perfectly still. Overhead, the sky was awash with color as the sun slowly set, leaving a rosy, crimson flush to add to the backdrop of your photos, matching the brilliant plumage of your elusive subjects. An ancient live oak, draped in spanish moss, dipped her long branches into the water, and the only movement was that of the birds.

As you waited, the perfect shot presented itself: one of the birds reared up, flapping its wings, and two of its fellows followed suit in a brilliant display of color that you captured with a rapid series of clicks.

When you turned back with a beaming smile, Baptiste was watching you with one of his own.

He’d told you about bayou magic, and damned if he wasn’t right.

You’d arrived in Louisiana more than a week earlier, with little more than a duffel and your camera gear, used to traveling light and in a hurry. Your accent set you apart, as it did almost everywhere, but you discovered the only people making the same tired “shrimp on the barbie” and dingo jokes were tourists announcing how excited they were to be in Nawlins, walking around with beads around their necks and blinking souvenir cups from the Bourbon Street bars. Everyone else was too busy living their lives to pay you any mind.

The drive from New Orleans to Terrebonne Parish took less than an hour in your rented car, always an adventure in different countries, although finding a guide turned out to be slightly more challenging. The contact that had been set up through the magazine had bailed sometime during your transpacific flight, and the message from your office had been to “feel out the locals.”

Wildlife photography was easy peasy over here in the colonies, when compared to the hassles and dangers you’d encountered in parts of Africa and South America, but the few offices you’d dropped into seemed reluctant to take you on.

Roseate spoonbills, diamondback terrapins, and the ubiquitous alligators were your main focus for this trip, and you’d be back later in the season, to capture the critically endangered red wolf…but you had let it slip that you were very interested in another wolf you’d heard about; one that made the wild hogs cower and the gators keep to their swamps.

The stories had come to you during your initial research on the area, via online message boards: nested threads buried deep within innocuous conversations about the local fauna. A creature with claws like steak knives and teeth to match, one that prowled the bayou beneath the light of the full moon each month, leaving a trail of slaughtered hogs in its wake. The people on the message board seemed grateful for the beast, for the hogs were dangerous and a nuisance, and you were intrigued, having never heard of anything like the creature, nor the name they called it.

Rougarou

You had typed the unfamiliar word into your search bar enthusiastically, eager to find something potentially more interesting to search out and photograph…but the results yielded you nothing but legends; a cryptip, a monster creature of myth, a story taken from France to Nova Scotia and passed down from the Acadians as they resettled in the bayou. That doesn’t make any sense! You couldn’t believe that it was all a hoax, not when people seemed so sincere about the wolf-like creature. Maybe it’s just a red wolf, maybe some giant hybrid…

You’d mentioned your interest in finding this rougarou to the genial woman who ran the first tour operation you’d visited…had watched the smile freeze on her face and her eyes harden. It had hardly been a surprise when she announced just a few moments later that all of her guides were booked and she couldn’t help you. It had been a mistake you’d only made once, but evidently some sort of old-fashioned phone tree had been activated, for none of the local travel and tour outfits seemed particularly interested in giving you the time of day after that.

Except for Baptiste.

A fifth generation Acadiana cajun, as he proudly proclaimed, you’d found Baptiste in a small luncheonette in Houma, as you groused on the phone to your editor back in Melbourne. Or rather, you thought ruefully, he had found you.

‘I don’t know what to do, Ray! I’m telling you, there’s something bigger here than turtles. It’s a wolf as big as a man! How has no one heard of it, I don’t understand! But none of these people will talk to me. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to find the spoonbills as this point.”

“Excusez-moi, miss…I couldn’ help overhear that you’re in need of a guide? There’s no one in Terrebonne Parish tha’ knows the bayou half so well as me. Baptiste Thibodaux, for your service.”

He was tall and broad, with an unhurried way of moving, and the blazing afternoon sun had winked on his dark brown hair where he’d followed you to the sidewalk, bowing with a flourish of his hand. He had a languid smile and lovely hazel eyes, bright in his smooth, latte-colored face. You conceded that it was amazing luck for every other guide in the area to be refusing your call, leaving you stranded with this handsome stranger who professed to know the parish like the back of his hand.

You were immediately taken with him.

Over the course of the next several days you’d shot terrapins sunning on rocks, gators blinking thoughtfully from brackish shallows, and some slithering snakes you hadn’t even planned for, all in tucked away little corners and forgotten waterways. The spoonbills were a bit more elusive, at least, for what you were looking for. “Anyone can see one or two pecking for garbage in a drainage ditch on the side of the road,” you explained. “I want to see the flock.”

The time spent together was interesting and companionable, and you found yourself enjoying the time away from home far more than you had on any other assignment. You learned about life on the bayou and Cajun traditions, that his grandfather had been the one to teach him all of the hidden nooks and crannies when he was a boy.

“Save up your toys, boy. We’re gone fishin’,” he imitated as you laughed. “Ol’ Alexandre knew it all.”

Each day you pressed him for information about the mysterious rougarou, and each day he danced around your questions with a smile.

“Can’t say I’m friends with any wolfman out there in the swamps,” he’d chuckled the second day he’d taken you out, after you eagerly told him about the things you’d read and the creature you sought. “Sure you’re not thinkin’ of some red wolves?” You’d flapped your arms in frustration, and he’d laughed again. “There’s magic in the bayou, chèr…just gotta know where to find it.”

Everywhere you went, you questioned the locals, grilling busboys and mail clerks alike. As you’d experienced with the tour outfits, the townsfolk met your questions with uneasy evasiveness. If they’d laughed at you, had flat out called you crazy, you might have let it go. As it was, their shifty eyes and changed subjects let you know that you were on to something, and the whole town was in on the coverup.

“Why you interested in some ol’ wive’s tale anyway?” Baptiste asked with that slow smile, the sixth day he’d taken you out on his fan boat. “Come see, chèr.”

He smelled like pipe tobacco and worn leather, with a splash of bay rum, and the intoxicating trio made your stomach twist and bunch when you leaned in close to follow his outstretched finger.

He had been courtly and charming every day, and you’d lying to yourself if you pretended you weren’t wildly attracted to him. You’d made mention that afternoon at the small restaurant where you’d met for a late lunch before heading out for the evening that he would need to invoice his time so that you could forward it on to your Melbourne office, and he’d scoffed at your words with a wave of his hand.

“Saints alive, you’d best save the ink writin’ up that invoice. Showing a beautiful woman around my home is a pleasure, not a job, chèr.”

As you followed the sightline his long finger pointed out, your breath caught in your throat. There, snuffling at the base of a tree, was a red wolf. Few in numbers, rare to be spotted, and not seen in Terrebonne Parish in decades, but somehow Baptiste had known just where to go.

The wolf froze, spotting you bobbing in the water, but you continued to click as its hackles raised. Baptiste was silent beside you as gleaming fangs were bared.

A sudden breeze from the gulf lifted your hair, carrying your scent to the wolf on the rocks and the creatures beyond, further alerting them to your presence, when without warning, the red wolf lowered its head, whimpering. The sudden change in its demeanor caused you to whip around, expecting an even more dangerous predator slinking up behind you, but there was nothing there.

Nothing but Baptiste’s eyes, glowing like flames in the growing darkness.

Your breath had caught for the second time that evening.

Raising your camera once more, you took advantage of the solitary wolf, until it backed slowly into the brush, melting into the shadows.

“That was incredible,” you’d exclaimed that night, still bouncing giddily on the tips of your toes. It normally took weeks setting up a shot like that, yet you’d glided up to the bank easy as you please, taking the shots you needed. “Thank you so much, I can’t believe you knew just where to find him!”

You’d stood on the stoop of your rented room, gazing up at his wide, white smile, feeling a frisson of heat move through you. You should invite him in…the heady smell of leather and bay rum caught your nose once more as you stepped closer. He had a scar, you saw, cutting through his eyebrow from his hairline, running in an uneven line across his cheek to disappear into his dark hair once more, just above his ear. Baptiste grinned down, taking your in his own with a delicate touch. The feeling of his thumb running down your palm nearly turned you inside out, but before you could act of your desire to invite him in, your hand was raised to his mouth, his lips lightly gliding over your knuckles and released.

“Tomorrow we’ll be findin’ your spoonbills, chèr…then you’ll kick your feet up, Acadiana style.”

It wasn’t until later that you’d pondered on the unnatural luminescent glow of his eyes in the darkness.

Breakfast was at the little diner up the block the next morning, and when the waitress who’d been giving you the stink-eye all week ducked her head as you entered, you weren’t at all surprised. When the same waitress stopped by your table to refill the hot water for your tea, you’d raised an eyebrow.

“Have you talked with Adeline Boucher yet?” the woman hissed. “She’s the one who can tell you what you want to know.”

“I remember I was seventeen, “ the old woman sighed wistfully.

The Fair Oaks retirement community was where you finally tracked down Adeline Boucher, a silvery-hair octogenarian with a bevy of tales to tell. It had taken the better part of an hour to get her back on track with your line of questioning, but what she revealed had been exactly what you’d been trying to unearth since your plane had touched down.

Teeth and claws, long and sharp and lethal; a painful looking change beneath the bright, white moon, leaving a wolfish creature in the place of her sweetheart, on a night more than sixty years earlier.

“Alex was so handsome. Always a perfect gentleman, you know. We would have gotten married, if my parents hadn’t sent me away. Didn’t want me raisin’ any babies with the curse. I had a good life, and it’s too late for complaints…but Alexandre Thibodaux was my first love.”

The spoonbills continued to graze through the shallows, dozens of pink streaked wings and bobbing white heads, beneath the crimson-streaked sky.

It was perfect.

“We should head back, chèr,” he murmured, once you’d lowered the camera for the final time. “You don’t want to be missin’ your first fais do-do, do you now?”

The boat bobbed in the water, and you nodded. He was right—you did not want to miss your first fais do-do. “What if I stay?” He was close, close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell that intoxicating smell, but he still wasn’t nearly close enough. “What if I stay through the end of next week?”

His smile was a bit sadder, but he maintained eye contact as your hands drifted to his shoulders. “Well…I’m afraid I’ll be a bit indisposed form most of next week.”

You nodded, already having checked the date of the full moon. You’d been searching for what had been there all along, and now that you’d found it…it didn’t matter at all.

“I’ll be back then. To shoot the wolves, it’s already scheduled.” When he reminded you that you’d already captured one of the elusive wolves on film, you shrugged. “There are other wolves I’d like to get to know better.”

His lips were warm against yours, a hand at your waist and another in your hair, as you chased the giddy sense of anticipation that had cloaked your entire visit to Terrebonne Parish. You would be back, you’d be unable to stay away.

As your mouth moved against his, the spoonbills took wing. The silent air was rent by a hundred flapping wings, brilliant color taking to the sky, and you were unable to hold in your laughter, leaning against Baptiste’s warm side.

Bayou magic.

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