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teliphone · 2 months

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Neighbors Daughter

Summary: You’re a young adult, a first-time New York Best Seller book writer. This achievement makes you itch to write more, but no significant idea comes to mind. You believe it’s due to the lack of experience. Your hometown is too simple. So, you moved to a new small neighborhood in hopes that the new scenery would bring ideas against your writer's block. Your neighbor's strange family lifestyle piques your interest, especially their daughter. A little sick and twisted, you pick up your pen to start jotting ideas for your new book.

Warning(s): Smut, Stalking, Peeking Tom, Voyeurism, Fingering

Word Count: 4.9K

The box filled with your journals slips from your fingers and falls onto the concrete ground. You grunt and puff your hair away from your face. You ready yourself and bend down to pick up the box again. You didn’t realize how heavy a box can feel when filled with notebooks. You follow the pathway and into the doors of your new house in a hurry. Once finally reaching the wooden floors, you drop the box down. You decide to sit on top of the box to take a breather. You’ve been moving heavy boxes into your new house for three hours now. Starting from picking the boxes from your old apartment, to making multiple car trips, til now, where you have finally dropped the last box. You glance around your home entrance with a small smile on your lips. Multiple boxes lay around and you feel like it’s going to take a while to unload. You do not mind though, you feel like you’re going to love your new living area. You turn your head to look out the door. Your new neighborhood is small and uniform. Every yard has perfectly cut and bright green grass. Every car is polished. Every porch has chairs that feel “welcoming”. This neighbor is something straight out of the movies. It’s a little eerie, but you feel like this setting is the perfect atmosphere to start writing. As you are observing outside, a bright red Jeep car drives by. It grabs your attention when you notice it turning into the house in front of you. Your new neighbor! You lean your body forward in an attempt to get a better look. You can hear the bass booming from the car. The car engine stops and the music starts to lower. The side door swings open and a young woman steps out. She has a white dress on. Her silky black hair is in a perfect long braid. She looks elegant and innocent. She turns her body back to the car and bends in to grab something. The bottom of her dress lifts a little, exposing her white thighs. You feel a wave of envy as you stare at your new neighbor's perfect-tone body. She straightens up and swings her purse across her shoulders. She reaches to touch the top car door and swings it close. As it shuts, she peers below her hair bangs, and makes eye contact with you. She seems a little shocked. She didn’t realize how soon the house across from her got moved in. You give her a wave, to show a friendly neighbor attitude. She gives back a timid wave and hurries into her house. Your eyebrows furrow at the response. Her behavior was odd. You turn your attention back to the boxes lying all around your floor. You suck in a deep breath and prepared yourself to get to work.

You have finally settled in. Everything you brought is in their designated location. It’s currently 10 am the next day. You take a seat at the kitchen table where your personal writing laptop is. You bring a water glass cup up to your lips. After a few full gulps, you sit the cup down. You turn your attention to the laptop screen. An empty Word document showing clear evidence of writer's block. Your fingers pause on the keyboard. You sigh and turn your head to stare out at the window to see your neighbor's house. The girls' red car was still parked in front. You haven’t seen the girl's parents yet. Curiosity begins to stir. You want to make new friends, but especially the family in front of you. How many people live there? What do their house decorations look like? Do the parents actually love each other?

Your fingers click on a search bar. You type “what to bring to your new neighbor as a friendly gesture”. After a few scrolls, you figure out what to do.

You make sure you look good. Practicing how to smile and what to say. A perfectly baked pie lays on top of your hand. This should be the way to make friends. You leave through your front door, not bothering to lock it. Nervousness pumps in your veins as you walk across the street. You quickly glance at the red car. The inside of the car is too clean, almost as if this is a brand-new car. You look away. Your hands curl into a fist and give the door a good few knocks. You wait, feeling anxious with each second that passes. The door doesn’t open after a minute and embarrassment creeps up your neck.

“No, there should be people at home,” you think to yourself. You give the door another knock, but this time more firm. Suddenly the door swings open revealing a man about forty to fifty years old. His hair and beard are perfectly groomed. He has on a simple white tee and blue jeans revealing a muscular body underneath. He towers over you due to his height.

“Hello?” He says unsure. His voice is deep and dry. You quickly blink yourself into action as you lick your lips. With two hands under the pie, you gently push it forward. He stares at it, not moving yet.

“Hello, I’m Y/n. I just moved into the house across your street and I was hoping-“

“Who is it, honey?” A mature woman with red lipstick appears next to the man. She brings her hands up to rest on his chest. You peek at the ring on her finger. She seems to be around her late thirties. Her visuals make you choke up. She is alluring and sensual. She is wearing a red blouse and black pants. Her hair is perfectly curled. She stares at you between her long lashes. She gives you a friendly smile, but you can feel a slight facade.

“This is our new neighbor that moved into the house in front of us,” The husband explains. Her eyes widen in surprise. She smiles widely, showing off her perfectly straight teeth.

“Oh my! I was wondering who got the privilege to move in!” She beams.

‘Privilege? That’s an odd way to say it,’ you think.

“Did you move in with a husband? Boyfriend?” She questions. A blush appears on your cheeks. You are single.

“No. I live alone,” You answer. You understand why she asked that. The house you moved in is big enough for a small family and yet you live alone. Silence coats the air. They stare at you with a small smile expression. You can tell they are wondering how you could individually afford it. You didn’t feel the need to reveal more information to them.

“I am here to introduce myself. I’m hoping to become friends with my new neighbors. I brought you guys homemade pie,” You beam. It is not homemade pie, you bought it several minutes ago at a nearby bakery store. You wanted to play it safe. The wife stares at the pitiful pie that is still in your hands.

“Thank you! That’s so thoughtful of you…. What flavor is it?” She asks not budging a muscle. You feel dumbfounded. What flavor? Normally, friendly people would just accept it with no question. She catches my silence and straightens her back.

“My apologies. I’m just asking because my daughter is allergic to certain fruits,” She explains with a smile. You feel lies lanced in her statement. But maybe she is being truthful.

“Apple pie,” You confirm, doubt creeping in. You researched what is the most popular pie and apple pie was the answer. This can’t fail, right?

“Sorry, our family does not like-“

“I like apple pies,” a soft voice cuts in. Her. The daughter. She’s even more pretty up close. She appears out of nowhere catching you off guard. Your eyes flicker over her features. Her eyes are so soft and calm as they stare back at you. Her plump lips are glossy pink. She’s in blue shorts and a tight black tee. She’s more tall than you expected from seeing her far away. You can finally see all the family members standing next to each other. They are all so beautiful and handsome. The perfect textbook family. You feel so little and unfortunate next to them.

“Hi, I’m Wonyoung,” She smiles. Before you can say anything back, she brings her hands out to grab the poor apple pie. Her fingertips gently brush against yours. She lifts the apple pie up to her nose and sniffs it. She lets out a soft hum of approval. You feel yourself gaining confidence again. Your lips curl up into a small smile.

“We are sorry to inform you, but we have plans and we must be on our way. It was nice meeting you…” The husband pauses. He looks at you with an expression of confusion. He already forgot your name.

“Y/n,” You remind. You glance at Wonyoung who gives you an apologetic look.

“Ah yes. Thank you for the pie, Y/n. The Jang family welcomes you to the neighborhood,” The husband finishes.

“Thank you! I hope to meet you all again at a good time,” You turn to leave their porch ground. You hear the door shut behind you and you let out a sigh. You feel like this interaction wasn’t the best. But your heart feels warm that Wonyoung accepted the pie. You smile and cross the street back to your house.

From behind the doors of the Jang family, Mrs. Jang takes the pie from Wonyoung’s hand.

“Why would you accept this pie? You know our house does not eat these types of sweets,” She grimaces in disgust. She examines the pie as if it were a bug.

“I was just being nice. She baked it just for us. The least we can do is accept it,” Wonyoung explains, shrugging her shoulders. She watches her mom dump the pie into the trash can. She dislikes how strict her mother is when it comes to food. She rolls her eyes and plops herself on the couch. She pulls out her phone to go through her social media. Mrs. Jang and Mr. Jang prepare to leave.

“We are going to be gone for a while. Don’t stay out too late. Don’t do anything stupid,” Mrs. Jang warns as she puts on her jacket. Wonyoung hums, not looking up from her phone screen. She hears the door click behind her and the house is silent again. Her eyes linger towards the trashcan where the pie lays. She starts thinking about you. She remembers the way your face expressed pure joy as she accepted the pie. A smile appears on her lips.

“Poor girl. She doesn’t know how toxic my family is,” She whispers to herself. She returns her attention to her phone. She sends out a message to her friends to see if anyone is free for lunch.

Several days go by and you are sitting by the opened window with your journal in your lap. This summer has reached one of its highest heat. You can feel your face starting to sweat, but luckily there is a light breeze that comes by a few times. You stare at the house in front of you again. It has become a routine. You mentally take note of what time each family member leaves and comes back. Mrs. Jang leaves early in the morning and comes back in late afternoon. Mr. Jang leaves around the same time as Mrs. Jang but arrives late at night. For Wonyoung, her routine is interesting. There is not a constant pattern. She leaves whenever and comes home whenever she wants. You start to wonder what she does during her day-to-day life. It seems like she has no job and would rather spend time with her friends.

A sudden movement from the house catches your attention. A window that usually has its curtains closed is suddenly opened. You narrow your eyes to make out the figure behind the window. It's a slim figure wearing a white cropped top, trying to yank the window open. You realize you’re staring into Wonyoungs’ window. The heat must have finally gotten to her which is why she is opening the window. She successfully opens it and returns to her vanity. She puts her hands into her hair and runs it into a high ponytail. You can’t believe how easy it is to look into her room. It’s not your fault… her window is just so big. You watch her put on white headphones and turn on her computer. You examine how straight her posture is and how she slightly fans herself with her hands. You start to wish you could hear her. Is she complaining about the heat? What song does she like to hear? What mood is she in? She slides her hand down her neck. You click your pen and start writing ideas. Ideas where the main character is looking a lot like Wonyoung. The main character in your next book. You struggle to figure out if you should make the character sweet or bratty. This won’t work. You need to know her more.

You walk past the Jang family house and see Mrs. Jang struggling to bring all her groceries in. Of course, you are quick to offer help. One reason: you are being nice and friendly. Two: you will be able to enter their house and look at their layout… but they don’t need to know the second reason.

“Would you like some help?” You call out, approaching her from behind. She gets taken by surprise and nearly drops the bag, but you are quick to reach the bottom of the bag. You look up to see how close her face is to yours.

“It’s okay dear. I can handle this,” She laughs it off. You shake your head, refusing to take a no.

“I know you are more than capable enough to do this alone, but please allow me to help,” You give her a sweet smile. She stares at you in shock at how nice you are. Her guard visibility lowers and she lets out a gentle sigh.

“Okay… Thank you Y/n. Just these two bags,” She instructs. You feel pride soar in your heart from hearing her say your name. She remembers! You lift the two bags and secretly gasp at how heavy they are. You peek into the bag to see all the fresh produce. Very healthy food choices.

“I see you're making dinner tonight,” You decide to start a small conversation as you walk behind her. She laughs again and pushes the front door open. You didn’t hear her response. You were too busy analyzing the interior. Everything is white, polished, sparkly, and clean. There are a few family pictures hung up. You look at the frames closer and note how the father is always in the middle, the wife is to the right and Wonyoung is to the left. You look around more to conclude the lack of comfort or character. Everything is too perfect and… bland?

“You can place the bags on this table here,” Mrs. Jang says. You place the bags onto the white marble table and look out to their backyard. There is a swimming pool which causes you to widen your eyes. There is no swimming pool in yours. They must have installed that after moving in. As you stare at the water you notice a figure floating. You gulp. Wonyoung is floating on a tube with her eyes shut in relaxation. She is wearing a white two-piece which reveals her milky-tone body. Her hair is wet and it sticks against her skin. She has a pleasing smile on her lips.

“I see you noticed our pool,” Mrs. Jang brings you back. You snap your neck to her with an innocent smile. You hope she didn’t notice you eyeing her daughter.

“Y-yes I did. It’s amazing… I wish my house had one,” You slightly giggle. She hums and walks to the backyard door to slide it open.

“Come here and check it out. I love to brag about this pool to my guests. Oh and my daughter is currently in there, but that's okay. We’re all women here,” She chuckles. She walks out and you follow behind.

“This pool took about…” Mrs. Jang continues talking but you were busy analyzing Wonyoung. She opens her right eye to peek at who ruined her peace. She was about to complain to her mom til she made eye contact with you. She rolls off the tube and into the cool water. She swims up and lifts her head above the water. Her wet black hair is perfectly silked behind her back. She walks to the edge of the pool and rests her arms there. She stares deep into your eyes between her long lashes.

“Mom…” She complains, “You didn’t warn me that we had a guest,”

“It’s fine. Y/n is here to look at the beautiful pool I installed,” Mrs. Jang explains. You nod your head to seem nonchalant.

“Sure…” Wonyoung hums with a tint of teasing. She rests her chin on her arms, not looking away from you. You become nervous, nearly tripping over a chair. She softly laughs while biting her bottom plump lip.

“Oh shoot! I left my iced coffee in the car. It’s probably melting so fast in this heat. I will be right back!” Mrs. Jang gasps and rushes out. This leaves you awkwardly standing still with Wonyoung staring. She pushes herself by the edge to go deeper into the pool. She picks up a beach ball and gently plays with it. She bumps it back and forth between her hands.

“So… you’re Y/n right?” She starts. You try not to smile but fail. For obvious reasons, hearing her remember your name is much better than hearing it from Mrs. Jang. With confidence, you walked over to sit at the edge of the pool. Wonyoung finds you more interesting and drops the beach ball. She walks against the water til she is underneath your gaze.

“Yes…You’re Wonyoung right?” You lie as if you don’t remember. She cutely tilts her head to the side. She playfully narrows her eyes at you. She lifts her finger and pokes your leg. Such a small touch, but it makes you blush.

“Yes. Jang Wonyoung. Drill that into your head,” She pouts. You couldn’t help but giggle at her cuteness.

“How do you like the new neighborhood so far… enjoying the view?” She asks with a low voice. There’s a slight glint in her eyes. You furrow your eyebrows. You didn’t quite understand the deeper meaning of her tone. Suddenly Mrs. Jang returns, stopping the conversation. You turn your attention to her and Wonyoung secretly rolls her eyes. Her mom ruined the fun. She goes back to playing with the beach ball.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” Mrs. Jang apologizes.

“No, it’s okay,” You smile. From the side of you, you can hear Wonyoung getting out of the pool and it took every muscle in you not to look. Mrs. Jang looks at her watch and lets out a gasp.

“Goodness! It’s getting a bit late. I need to start preparing for dinner,” She hints for you to leave.

“I understand. Thank you so much for allowing me to see your beautiful pool,” You thank, taking a step forward to the screen doors.

“I think we should invite Y/n for dinner,” Wonyoung beams. You turn your head to look at her. Your eyes secretly look to see her body wrapped in a white towel while you wave your hands timidly.

“No, that's okay. I really don’t want to bother your guy's family time,” You reject. She frowns and glares at you. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She looks at her mom with a desperate plea. She picks up the cue.

“I agree with my daughter. You helped me earlier and as a thank you, I would love to invite you for dinner,” Mrs. Jang convinces you. You think about how this would be the perfect opportunity to make friends and study them.

“In that case… I would love to take your offer,” You admit. Wonyoung smiles brightly as she plays with the heel of her foot. Mrs. Jang states at her wristwatch again.

“I believe dinner will be ready in about an hour. You should head home and come back after an hour-“

“I can text you to come when dinner is ready” Wonyoung chirps in. She brings out her hand in front of you. Her eyes curve into a crescent moon. You stare at her hand like a fool. Your mind races. Is she asking for your phone number?

“…Your phone?” She hints. Bingo. You quickly reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Once you unlock the phone, you hand it over to her. You watch her quickly type down her number and shoot herself a text. Her thumb is moving fast. She lifts her head and gives you another charming smile.

“There. Look forward to my text,” She bubbles as she hands your phone back. You stare at your screen. She placed her contact name as normal. Jang Wonyoung. But the message she sent made your cheek turn red.

Neighbors Daughter

You love the sound of it. You definitely will be adding this to the book you’re currently writing.

The text Wonyoung sent wasn’t crazy. A simple “Dinners ready. You can come now” was all she sent. So here you are, sitting at the dinner table with the Jang family. You try to be polite and have manners as much as possible. You sit in front of Mrs. Jang while she sits next to her husband. Wonyoung sits to your left. It sucks how you can’t really see what she’s doing. From your peripheral vision, you can see her slightly poking her food with the fork. Mrs. Jang takes a sip of her wine and gently places it back down.

“You are quite young. How did you manage to get a house on your own? What’s your job?” She starts the conversation. It is clear that she is very interested to know you. You swallow the food in your mouth and take a sip of water.

“I am a writer,” You reveal. The parents stare at you and Wonyoung stops poking her food. Mr. Jang places his fork down. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry if I sound harsh but I didn’t think writers make enough money to get a house in this neighborhood,” He chimes in. You let out a soft laugh. You get that a lot and honestly, you are surprised too.

“I am not offended. I started by writing a lot for many popular websites, almost like a journalist. Later I decided to start writing books. I’ve released a couple so far…” You start to linger off. You didn’t want to brag about the successes you received from the books. The sales from the books are the reason you were able to afford the house. This stirs Wonyoung interest.

“How do you find a subject to write about?” She questions. You turn your head slightly to look at her and she copies. Her bangs look really cute.

“I find things that interest me,” You answer honestly. The corner of her lips turns up as she slowly nods her head.

“If you ever need help with finding something to write about… I want to help. I have many ideas,” She says. She slowly blinks while you stare at her. Her characteristic is just so hypnotizing. How can you write her into words? You fear your main character can’t capture the real charms of Wonyoung.

“Thank you. I would love the help,” You agree. She is the first to break eye contact and returns to playing with her food.

“You must be successful,” Mrs. Jang adds. She takes another sip of her wine. You awkwardly laugh, not agreeing or disagreeing. The rest of the dinner continues as normal. You take note of each person's characteristics. Mr. Jang rarely talks and keeps to himself. He tends to stare. Mrs. Jang loves to talk about anything and took up most of the conversation. She’s expressive with her facial. Wonyoung adds to the conversation when she wants to. She’s very gentle with how she eats and speaks. She likes to take small bites. Whenever you said something she found funny, she would cover her mouth while laughing. It fills you with so much joy that she finds you hilarious.

Dinner ends and you can’t stop thanking Mrs. Jang for the meal. It was nice to have a home meal from someone else other than yourself. It has been a while. Mrs. Jang tells you how nice it was to have you as company and orders Wonyoung to walk you to the door. Wonyoung leans against the door frame with her arms crossed against her chest. Her perfectly curled hair rests on her right shoulder. You shyly give her a goodbye wave.

“Good night Y/n,” She hums.

That night you couldn’t sleep. You roll over to your phone and tap the screen. It’s 1:45 am. You sigh and sit up from your bed. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t sleep. You decide to get up and get a cup of water. As you stand up, you get distracted by a light coming from the Jang family’s house. It’s Wonyoungs’ room. Her curtains are pushed to the side revealing her whole room again. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What is she doing this late at night?” You think to yourself.

You walk closer to your window to stalk her. There’s no way she could see you. Your room is dark. Wonyoung lifts her shirt above her head and your heart stops. Her long hair drops past her shoulders as she lowers herself to take off her shorts. This is wrong. You shouldn’t watch, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her.

She observes her body in the mirror. She turns her body around, slowly sliding her hands across her smooth skin. Her rear is facing the mirror. She turns her head to watch. She sticks her butt out as she bends over. Her finger hooks on the hem of her panties and she tugs it down. Her eyes are heavy and she bites her bottom lip. Your breathing becomes shaky. You take a seat by the window and open your journal. You start jotting down notes. Wonyoung smiles cheekily at herself and turns around to face the mirror. You study how she lets out a laugh as she unclasps her bra. She pulls her bra off and tosses it to the side. She cups her boobs and squeezes it. Her thumb rubs against her nipples as she plays with her chest. Her head tilts back slightly and her mouth opens revealing a moan. She stares at herself a little more before she has had enough of teasing herself. She walks to her bed and lays down. You watch as she runs her fingers across her lower stomach. She lifts her legs and spreads them apart. You feel your body starting to heat up. One of her hands grazes her neck while her other hand starts playing with her cunt. Her middle finger rubs her clit which causes her to gasp.

You squeeze your thighs together and grip your pen. You are getting turned on by just watching her. She swirls her clit for a couple of minutes before she inserts a finger into her wet cunt. It causes her to arch her back. She feels the silky wet substance coat her digits. You suck in a deep shaky breath. You can feel your cunt pulsing and clenching painfully.

She increases her speed and a few cute moans spill out. She had to cover her mouth with the back of her free hand so that her parents couldn’t hear her. Her hair starts to stick against her forehead. She pants hard, her chest going up and down. Her cunt chases after her own two fingers. She tilts her head back as she forces her fingers to go deeper. She then curls her finger to hit her gummy walls. Her legs shake as she feels herself getting close. Your handwriting against your journal starts to get more sloppy. She lets out a soft cuss and a dirty laugh. She feels too good. She goes a little faster and harsher with her fingers. After a few more deep thrusts she reaches her high. Her mouth gapes open and she lets out an embarrassing squeal. She immediately shuts her mouth with her free hand as she twitches against the other. You nearly came in your pants when watching her orgasm. You shift uncomfortably against your seat. You blush from feeling the wetness in your cunt.

Wonyoung gets out of her high and takes her fingers out. She lifts it into the air and examines how her juice coats her two fingers. She chuckles and rolls off the bed. She disappears and you assume she went to the bathroom to clean herself.

You lower your head into your head. You feel so dirty and guilty. You toss your journal aside and return to your bed. Shoving your face against your pillow, you silently replay the scene again. Suddenly your phone buzzes. You lift your head and expand your hand to search for your phone. Once you feel the cold surface you bring it to your face. It was a text message from Jang Wonyoung.

“I hope that gave you more ideas to write”

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months

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Must Be Love

Corporate Worker San x (F)Reader

Summary: Love, is an emotion so deep that once earned, it could change lives. Unfortunately, neither of the two had ever had the opportunity to feel love. Well, maybe he had, but having his heart thrown back at him, made him realise that the corporate world was far too busy, far too bitter and far too cold for a hardworking boy from Namhae- it was about time he accepted the bitter taste of reality.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Warnings: Languages/ Insecurities (majorly of being alone)

Word Count: 21k

Est. Read Time: 1 hr

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Master List- Corporate Brew

A/N: Only God and @edenesth know how this was supposed to be a timestamp, that turned into a oneshot that is so long- that I- I swear I don't even know why San has me in a chokehold.

"All I'm saying is that speed dating does work for some people." The brunette claimed entering the elevator with the taller man who shook his head with a pout, pressing the parking button. Sure, speed dating worked for a few people, but those few people were rarely introverts, moreover, he did not have time for love. Love was a luxury he could not afford, especially after his last encounter with the villain, he believed that distancing himself from it would keep him safe, and keep him from hurting.

"Yeah...just not my thing," he mumbled, stepping out onto the concrete floor, their polished shoes scraping against the cement, echoing in the enormous parking lot. Sighing he looked over the fence, frowning at the jam below, "I hate Mondays", muttering to himself he turned to wave off Yeosang who smiled at him, before ducking down to enter his car, lowering the window once the engine was switched on, "I'm just saying San, you can't let her get to you forever."

"See you tomorrow Yeosang." with one final wave his friend drove off, as the man himself, got into his car, buckled up and decided to speed out, it didn't matter anyway, he'd be stuck in traffic but at least it'll be quick, it was already 9 pm, the sooner he could go home, the sooner he'd be in bed, ready to succumb to the solitude and silence at his apartment.

Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, it was already 11 pm. Cursing under his breath he walked out of the elevator, so exhausted, so tired, so done with everything. A constant ringing in his ears only added to the discomfort, as he squinted at the hallway lights. Making his way down his corridor he reached his door until pausing, turning his head to find someone sitting at the door next to his, hugging her knees- was she...crying? All too suddenly the ringing disappeared, the lights around him became much bearable, the dull greys around him morphing into something else- San, stop. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, trying to get her attention, which he only got once he 'fake' coughed.

His curious gaze met with glossy doe eyes, and a tear-stained face stared up at him. Unknown to him, she had just come to the realisation that God really did do people favours, and one of those favours was creating a being like the one standing above her, with a gaze so soft she could almost feel it, his features sharp as a feline and not to mention those shoulders, damn what a beauty. She watched him blink at her slowly before turning around and- oh. He went inside.... wow.

With a snort, she shook her head-that was anti-climactic. Of course, why would anyone even want to deal with her, especially someone like him?

San closed the door behind him, slowly walked over to the console table, and stopped to stare at his reflection, God he looked like a mess, no wonder she was staring at him like that. Running his fingers through his hair, he sleeked back his bangs, trying to calm down his nest of hair before fixing his tie and opening the door to find her in the same place, walking over to her as he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me Ma'am-" he began, pausing when she looked up at him with a frown, man, he wasn't good-looking, but he wasn't that ugly either.

"I lost my key."

"You- what?" quirking a brow he stared at her before looking at the numerous bags and suitcases beside her, how exactly did he not notice these before?

"I moved in today...lost my key and the landlord is out of town," mumbling she hugged her knees tighter looking away from him, frowning at the tiled floor, waiting for something, a backhanded compliment, an insult, a taunt, something to remind her of her ignorance and lack of competence.

Sighing he rubbed his face, before staring at the door, looking at the lock pad, moving closer he stood right beside her, glancing down at her, though she was still staring ahead, frowning like a child put in time out shaking his head he began pressing the numbers on the keypad, resetting the door's lock- knowing this was no longer a used apartment, it had a generic code from number one to five, he was confused why the landlord had decided to not tell her this. On the other hand, this was common knowledge, but then again, he didn't know these things when he started, a fresh graduate with the hopes of stepping into the world with a will to change stuff- that is until the corporate world put him back in his place.

The beeping caught her attention, side eying him, most of her vision just comprised of his pant leg, craning her neck upwards, she met with the gaze of an angel, giving her a small smile as the light behind him glowed in all in angelic mercy. Was he...bipolar?

"I've reset it. Please change the passcode once you settle in."

With that he walked away, leaving her sitting there, grateful yet so confused, his calm demeanour just putting her anxiousness at bay. The soft click of his door brought her back to reality, clearing her throat she stood up, dusting her clothes she made her way to his door, clearing her throat, trying to fix her hair before ringing the doorbell.

San was almost done unbuttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang, as he paused, groaning in disdain the man glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight, what on earth did the world want from him now? Messily buttoning it back up he padded to the door barefoot, his tie hanging around his neck, annoyed at the pestering dinging of the bell as he swung the door open, glaring at whoever was rude enough to ruin his few moments of silence and bliss.

"Th-oh- sorry." she stammered, averting her gaze before bowing and thanking him, mumbling her name and scurrying away through her open door, slamming it shut, her things still outside. He stared at her, what a peculiar woman, what was her problem? Glancing down he realised most of his shirt was still unbuttoned- oh…well technically he was wearing a vest- shit did she think he was weird? A pervert? Great going Choi San. Sighing for the nth time of the night he closed the door, finally deciding to go to bed and forget whatever embarrassing things he had done tonight.

Leaning her ear against the door she weighed for it to close, praying to any entity out there that he did not assume she was weird or a perv. It's not like this was the first time she'd seen a man and technically he was still fully clothed so- God, Jongho was right, she's been single for too long. A good ten minutes later she cracked open the door, leaning out to glance at her neighbour's door, apartment number 404, well then, at least he was gone, she could pull in her stuff without any interruptions.

"You traumatised- no, you harassed a woman," Yeosang mumbled, coat in hand as he entered the elevator, San following in behind, San who was also late today, San who had rushed to work today, forgetting both, his laptop at home and his coat.

"I did not." he sighed, staring at his reflection, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night - or any other of the previous nights for that matter. Usually, when he'd lay down, his body would be exhausted, but an hour in all he'd do was toss and turn restlessly, blanketed by something else, something heavy and blue, at this point he had no clue as to what to do. The room would just end up getting stuffy and within a few hours, he'd slip out of bed, have a cup of coffee, shower, change, try to eat something, anything so he could function and leave like he had a whole eight hours of sleep.

"Should've asked her how she lost the key though." the other man hummed, pressing the buttons of their floors, eying his friend who was now leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed with a pout.

"No."

"No?"

"No, she was already upset, who cares how she lost them." he sighed, straightening up once the door opened, "Didn't feel like adding salt to the wound."

"Aww...my stoic Mr.Choi is so considerate." he teased, patting the back of his friend who rolled his shoulders, before walking out, mumbling a, "I'll just take Mingi's jacket- don't bother coming by!' he turned around swiftly to point at Yeosang, who stood there behind the open doors, waving at him, "Whatever you say...." waiting for the doors too almost close for the punchline, "Perv."

"Will you be going out for lunch today, Sir?" Mingi asked, fingers frozen above the keyboard, peaking through his glasses as he stared at San who was locking the glass door to his office.

"Yeah...want something?" the man turned to look at his secretary - assistant, mind you- who shook his head, "Enjoy your lunch, Sir." with that he went back to typing up the due report - one that was due a day ago, he was just glad San hadn't realised that yet.

Shaking his head San sighed, "Mingi, my man, you gotta stop calling me Sir." stuffing his hands in his pockets he looked around the almost empty floor, "Also, I've submitted the report." his words caused the taller man to freeze, his curious eyes locking with a tired, blank pair, an apology simmering at the tip of his tongue but the man raised his hand to stop him, "Just...tell me next time."

"Yes Sir."

"Creme croissant and a latte, right?" he asked as he began to walk away, being nothing more than a hero- no, an angel, for Song Mingi, oh how he wished everyone had a boss like his. Standing up and bowing a good 90 degrees he kept thanking the man until the elevator doors closed.

Grimacing at the bitter taste of his coffee he walked down the street, frowning at almost everything. The sun was too bright, the birds were too loud, there was too much traffic and lunch hour was packed. Holding onto the paper bag of Mingi's lunch he bit the end of the straw, staring into the windows of the shops he passed by. Why did these people look so happy? Did they not have work? What did they have that he did not?

Too lost in thought he collided with someone, though little damage was done to him, other than dropping Mingi's lunch, his coffee was fine, and so was his shirt. Sighing in relief he turned to look at the person who had ended up on the floor, about to apologise he paused, "Oh...it's you."

Falling on your butt is one of the worse things known to man or woman in her case, truth be told she hadn't seen the man, especially because of the boxes that she was holding, they were heavy and if Jongho didn't think that rock-paper-scissors was not the best solution for any problem, especially when it meant carrying heavy objects, she wouldn’t be here. She was picking up the cups that fell out of the box, luckily the one with the spoons and forks was taped up, mumbling an apology to the person before spotting the soiled package- shit.

"I'm so sorry-" she was cut off by his statement, staring up at him, oh shit. Clearing her throat she nodded before standing up, patting the dust off her clothes and apologising, "I-I'm sorry I didn't see you there. " He was about to say it's okay please stop apologising but before he could she reached for his feet causing him to bounce back only to realise she was reaching for what remained of Mingi's lunch.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'll get you a new one." she said placing it on the boxes and trying to pick them up, though he reached for them before she could, picking them up, "Please stop apologising. It's alright, you don't have to," he said as he looked at her from over the boxes. Wow, he makes the boxes look small, what else can he pick up?

"No, please you don't have to help me, I can carry them." she said trying to reach for them but he shook his head, nodding in the opposite direction, "Where were headed?"

"LET ME MAKE YOU LUNCH"

The two stared at each other, her words causing the two to stare at each other before he cleared his throat, averting his gaze and she shook her head trying to explain, "I mean for the one I dropped, I have a cafe- technically it's not open yet but you-you can be the first official nonofficial customer."

"Ah...okay," whispering he turned to look at her again and nodded, following her as she began to speed walk in the direction of his office- oh it was close by? They stopped at a closed shop just a block away, the windows covered with newspapers, including the glass door. Craning his neck back he stared at the name, a giant board of the name - oh it's a cafe? 'Jiyuu'.

Freedom, huh? He followed her inside, only to abruptly stop when she turned around "I can hold it-"

"Just tell me where to keep it,” he asked before walking towards the dusty counter, placing the boxes on it and turning to her but she zoomed into the kitchen mumbling, a 'Please stay here, I'll be right back'.

He stood there, idle, hands in his pockets, staring around the semi-decorated place, wasn't shabby, and wasn't over the top modern as well. It was close to his work too, maybe he'd try the coffee here. Speaking of coffee, how did a simple cafe owner- one that was still closed- afford an apartment like his? Someone cleared their throat, earning his attention.

"Here you go," she mumbled, "Sorry again." handing him the paper bag- it was bigger than the one he had for Mingi.

"Thank you." nodding at her he pouted, "I told you, it's okay." with that the two stood there, awkwardly standing, staring at anything but each other, the hustle and bustle of outside muffled through the newspaper-covered glass windows, the golden glow just adding to the calm atmosphere. He hadn't felt like this in a while he had not been able to hear his thoughts in a good while, it bothered him, the slow atmosphere, there was no rush, and even time had a pace of its own. A melancholic serenity, he was slowly beginning to enjoy until his phone rang, causing him to jerk back to reality, only to realise she was busy unboxing, when did she move away? Did she just let him stand there, staring at the wall?

"I- thanks again." clearing his throat he nodded at her, earning a gentle smile, "Thank you too." with that he quickly made his exit.

That day, Mingi received more than just a croissant and a latte, he got a whole Danish pastry, a cold coffee and more assorted baked items- No, San did not tell him how he got them, he just told him it was his treat. That day, San had finally witnessed something, felt something so similar that he felt goosebumps, felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand, yet, other than his internal conflict, the world around him was at a pace so strange, one that was slowly pulling him in, something he was deathly afraid of, yet, he welcomed it, just a little bit. That day she finally made a friend, other than Jongho, even if it were comprised of him just being nice to her, she'd accept that, everyone was falling in love, and at least she was no longer falling behind.

A week, it had just been a week since the two had come to know about their existence and he had realised how even though he'd address her with her first name she'd use Mr.Choi. Perhaps she would do so out of respect, or perhaps she was scared of him. Either way, what he did not expect was for her to knock on his door, drenched to the bone, shivering as she tried to give him that usual smile 'Everything is A-okay!'. He could see right through it, and even though he had decided to not meddle in others' affairs, he still somehow found her sitting on his couch, clutching onto a mug of tea, one of his spare towels wrapped around her shoulders.

That is not what baffled him, what truly amazed him was how this strange woman just barged into his apartment, wet as a cat caught in the rain and had brought up a proposition, much similar to the one Yeosang would bring to the table during the yearly board meetings, making San want to strangle him most of the time.

"So, in reality, you want me to drop you off at your place of work and you'll pay me...with coffee?" He asked, watching her sit on his extremely expensive leather couch, sleek black, matching the monochromatic theme of his living room, and her damp clothes were not doing the leather any favours.

"Yes- I mean, No- I mean a coffee and something to eat, whatever you like! I read that business and corporate people love a good brew and I'll be targeting them too so-" she went on and on, playing with the hem of her damp cardigan, but he raised a hand to stop her, her eyes widening at the gesture, oh god, was he going to throw her out? Jongho did tell her that this was a bad idea.

"Why are your clothes wet?"

"O-oh." her face flushed at the question, her gaze flickering to her lap as she cleared her throat, "It started raining on my way back...and I didn't have an umbrella."

"But the forecast.... mentioned it." he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before stopping to glare at her, "Did you not take one or did you forget it at the cafe?" his words were cold, but held some form of warmth to them, though his hard glare softened at her meek response.

"I left it at work, Mr.Choi."

"Go home." was all he said as he stood up and walked over to the main door, turning to catch her staring at him with wide glossy eyes, of course, she wouldn't get the hint, "We leave at sharp 6 am”.

"So... this is just what neighbours do?" Yeosang glanced up from the documents, of course San had blocked the funds for the marketing department, this man's sulking was affecting his work ethic too- by work ethic, he meant how he was holding Yeosang's big marketing plans.

"Hmm? Oh yeah...I guess, why?" he asked still reading through the other proposals, not really thinking about it or her. Honestly, he had assumed she would've tapped out within a week, though this past month he was impressed by her persistence. Some days he'd just step foot outside to find her standing in front of her own door, holding onto her handbag, only to smile at him. How on earth was she able to pull off the heart-stopping smile early in the morning? He still didn't know how, he'd just nod silently, sometimes mumbling a good morning, but his lips wouldn't quirk up the slightest.

She'd followed him silently, usually not speaking unless spoken to, but he could sense that she had many stories to tell, but perhaps his heart was already too full, sinking into this blue and her stories and words would just ruin any chances he'd have to stay afloat. Hence, they'd only exchange pleasantries when he'd see fit, but he'd thank her, every time he'd drop her and she'd ask him to stay for a minute, only to run inside with her things and come back running with a coffee and a paper bag. Each day it would comprise of something new, and she'd just say it's her trying new recipes, though she never made the coffee, it was made by him, someone named Jongho, he didn't know much about Jongho, only that he played a vital role in her life- so she had someone too, even if potential. And for once he was glad to have kept his walls up high as he had, though this silent pitter patter of his heart, from every time she'd smile at him annoyed him, every time she whispered before closing the door, " Have a good day, Mr.Choi", it just made the pound of flesh in him shiver with an unwanted excitement.

"San?"

"Huh?"

Clicking his tongue, Yeosang leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he scanned the man across the table. His shirts were pressed to the crisp, his usual four-in-hand tie knot, now a full-blown Windsor knot, he'd brought back the waistcoat as well, a choice that was long discarded and his hair, gelled back to perfection—definitely just neighbours.

"What~" he whined, slumping against the chair, almost like a child throwing a fit, a side only Yeosang would see, usually he'd mock him, but he knew San got like this when he was bound by one of his man internally conflicts, which is why he chose to keep the observation to himself and nod at the clock, "Your neighbour must be waiting, it’s almost time."

"What- oh yeah." nodding he quickly grabbed his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder, almost out the door before he stopped and turned around, "Yeo?"

"Hmmm?"

"Re-evaluate and send in the budget again."

"F*ck you, Choi."

"So..." she asked, looking around the interior of his car, "Nice car." Must've cost a lot is what she wanted to say next, but knowing him, he would've asked her to get out at that very moment- incorrect, Choi San couldn't even glare at her properly, let alone tell her to walk home.

"Thank you..." he mumbled, driving onto the main road, not really knowing how to continue the conversation, Yeosang would've made fun of him, telling him he couldn't even do 'small talk', but it's not like he had much in common with her, other than working near each other and living in the same building, on the same floor.

"I uh...thank you for dropping me home." she tried to push onto the subject, maybe he'd talk to her if she pestered him, that's how she had gotten Jongho to become her friend- not the best tactic, but it had worked once, why wouldn't it again?

"No problem." his responses were short, again, not out of malice, he just didn't know what to say to her, with his sister, it usually comprised of him being a baby to her or her bossing him around but that was different, they were siblings, they could argue about stupid things and get over it, but with her- she was...different, she was soft, she was sensitive and delicate, like a butterfly on a flower. Though she'd be one of those he'd avoid, not wanting to fall into its beauty and grace, too distracted to take note of the world around him. No longer was he willing to fall, or at least imagine to do so.

Parking the car he cleared his throat, waiting for her to move, but he was greeted by silence. What the hell- he turned to find her asleep, hugging her purse close, leaning against the door.

If this was extremely dangerous and careless of her, he might have found it cute- why on earth- HOW COULD SHE JUST FALL ASLEEP LIKE THIS? What does he do? Does he tap her shoulder? Shake her? Wouldn't that be touching her without consent? Should he call her by her name? Yes, he should, and with that intention he had turned to her once more, only to notice the small frown etched on her features, she looked.... tired.

Jerking awake she sat up properly, blowing the hair out of her face, blinking around, where- was she in the car? Whipping her head to look at the driver's seat she found him sitting there, tying away on his phone, his hair a bit dishevelled but everything else was pristine about him, as it was in the morning. His face was illuminated by the blue light, only accentuating his sharp features, to this day she wondered how someone like him would even bother talking to her.

"Good morning" he turned to look at her, catching her mid-stare, as she choked on her words, about to blurt out an apology but he cut her off, "Don't apologise, it’s something I did by choice, anyway, I got through with most of my emails for the day now so that's good. " He locked his phone before finally switching off the car- he was wasting gas for her? "Did you rest well?"

She could only nod at his question, as he got out and closed the door, she clumsily followed after clutching onto her things as he made his way to the elevator, locking the car, the beep echoing across the parking lot.

He held the doors open for her, waiting for her to run in as she placed her handbag down, turning to him with a pout, only to be met by a frown- was he angry? Of course, he was, but he did say he stated by choice so why did he-

"Do you realise how dangerous that was? Falling asleep in someone else's car?" his words were direct, cold to the brim, "It's extremely foolish. Just because we know each other doesn't mean you can do that! We're just neighbours, nothing more and even if we are carpooling this isn't safe. Would you do the same in an Uber or a bus? Do you realise this is just carelessness? It's just not how you live in the city or elsewhere for that matter-" he spat, turning to meet her with an intense glare, only to lock eyes with a misty pair, pausing when she dipped her head, "I'm sorry, I know. "

"I-I'll be careful next time. Mr.Choi." whispered, her fingers gripping the leather of her bag, he was right, they were just neighbours, nothing more, nothing less, more importantly, this formal arrangement of carpooling was only temporary, maybe she should just take the bus from now on. Jongho was wrong, she wasn't mature enough for this, and she couldn't do this on her own, her fiancé was right, she was childish and clumsy, a little girl living in a fool's paradise at best, too used to being a daddy's little princess.

San watched her walk out of the elevator, though he was too petrified to say anything, his own reaction had confused him. Why was he so upset? He was the one who let her sleep? It wasn't like him to raise his voice like this, especially at someone he would compare to a butterfly. What was wrong with him? He was never this bitter. Just like that, he watched her walk into her apartment, the soft click signalling her to lock it. No, he did not receive the usual "Goodnight Mr.Choi."

But then again, did he deserve it? With a heavy sigh, he closed the door, staring at his empty apartment, feeling...guilty? Well, he did just...it wasn't wrong but...groaning in defeat he turned around and walked out of his apartment slamming the door shut behind him.

Pushing up her glasses she frowned at the screen, what kind of schedule was this, all the buses left before sunrise, way before San would even leave, and they’d leave later as well. In addition to those issues, the bus wouldn’t drop or pick her up near the café, the bus stops were around five blocks away from the shop. Groaning she slammed the lid shut, what if she just walked every morning? Maybe she shouldn’t have moved here, leaving her comfort zone, forcing Jongho along with her- he was a fool, he’d always had too much faith in her and that had always been the problem. At this point, she had once again wasted her parents’ money and potentially risked Jongho’s life savings too.

With a heavy sigh, she picked up the laptop and placed it on her desk before coming back to bed, laying back down as she stared up at the ceiling, letting her sullen thoughts lull her to sleep. Only to sit awake when the doorbell rang, looking around her room before it rang again, groaning she laid back down and covered her ears, waiting for it to stop. And it did, much to her pleasure, only the next thing to ring was her phone, she slammed her hand around for it and picked it up without checking the ID, “Jongho I swear if you’re calling me because you have a new brew idea, I’ll stab you with a spork.”

For a second she was met with silence, causing her to pull back and squint at the caller ID, before gasping and pressing it against her ear, “Mr.Choi I’m so so-“

“Sorry? Mhmmm…I know, so am I, please open the door so I can do so formally.”

That night, was the first time she had received a formal apology from a corporate worker, one with a proper 90-degree bow, followed by a soft apology. She opened the door to find him standing there tall before doing so, standing back up and showing her a bag, “I hope you like Chinese takeout.”

“I do.” With that she moved to the side, thanking God that she had cleaned her apartment the day before, asking him to make himself comfortable as she set the table. That night Choi San finally decided to learn a bit about her, not too much, he didn’t want to get involved in anything other than carpooling, this dinner was just a mere apology for his sudden outburst anyway. He looked around the lounge, the comfortable sofa was different from his, well most of this place was, it had colour, little trinkets that represented who she was, by the window were some succulents, but there was no television to be found, weird.

Once the table was set the two began to eat quietly, that is until she began, “You didn’t have to get dinner Mr Choi, and it's too much-

“I did.” He cut her off, clearing his throat to continue, “I…my outburst was uncalled for, I know it may seem confusing, but I wasn’t upset that you fell asleep, I was …concerned for your safety, I know you just moved here…but I…” he trailed off, especially at the way she was looking at him, like a kid staring at superman, he felt small under her intense stare, no, he wasn’t who she thought he was, he was no saint, he was no saviour, he was no one special. Shaking off the feeling, he mumbled, trying to change the topic, “Why did you move here anyway?” This was a bad move, he had asked something personal, he should’ve just asked her how he liked it here or how was work going, this question just meant that the answer would get him inside for her life, insight, he perhaps could function without.

Unfortunately, after a few stories in he was hooked, the finance director was up till midnight, not because of his work, no, because one story led to another and he listened intently, letting her do all the talking, perhaps because he wanted her to feel as if she was heard, or perhaps her story sparked some form of joy.

"Lee Soohyuk?" he choked on his lettuce wrap, thanking her when she handed him a can of soda. Gulping it down before clearing his throat as he looked at her, watching her clean her side of the table with a tissue, she was done eating. Or was she not eating in front of him?

"The...the famous corporate lawyer? Damn, I've seen him...once? Twice I think." he blinked at her, noting how she had gone quiet before he gave her a small smile, "He's not that smart you know...he was also wrong."

"What?" she paused her cleaning session to look at him, "He wasn't though, he was right Mr.Choi, I'll always be my parent's little princess, I can't even function alone, I dragged Jongho in this and lord forgive how his dad invested in med school for him and he ended up becoming a barista because of me- I couldn’t even afford a place of my own- I'm still living in an apartment owned by my parents!" slamming her hands on the table she glared at the food, "He was right, I was useless and immature then, I'm equally useless now, other than Jongho now I depend on you - which I won't I promise I'm looking for a solution but the schedule and drop points are so chaotic and-" her words caught up in her throat, being pushed down by a sob as she slumped back in her chair, pressing her palms over her eyes, no crying, crying is for the weak, for those who are spoiled, for those who give up. Too busy trying to think of what breathing exercises Jongho had taught her, she didn't know when he had come to her, until he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze causing him to peak up at him.

"Well, I don't know what you were like before...but...I won't say you're useless...Mingi was born here but he still rides his cycle here, and lives with a flatmate," pulling his hand away leaning against the table, stuffing his hands in his pockets- too much skinship is bad- "I... have you ever like managed your resources? Like do you have a plan? An agenda or something?"

Shaking her head she wiped her eyes, sniffing like a little girl who got scolded, "I- I thought of buying this apartment from them....and then...then...I don’t know."

Nodding San smiled at her, "So you do have a plan. You just need some help figuring it out." reaching over for a tissue he plucked some out of the box before handing them to her, "Let's get your priorities organised first. Make a payment plan or something like that, your business started off well, which means you know how to work that out, you just need help in the...other stuff. Take a leap of faith."

"What if I... fall?"

'Then I'll catch you'.

This is what he had wanted to say that night but chose to smile at her, telling her people learn from their mistakes, no matter how small. Fortunately, she had made a friend that day, one who would guide her through, one who also told her to forget about the bus schedule and that they'd still carpool. Unfortunately for him, he might have stepped into a boundary he was desperately trying to avoid. Either way, Friday night dinners slowly became a tradition, a place of dining alternating, a Friday at his and a Friday at hers- something that when he told Yeosang, all the prince-ly man did was stare at him before leaving the office without another word, ignoring San yelling at him,

"WE'RE ONLY NEIHBOURS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?? YAH KANG YEOSANG!"

Cursing to himself he ran down the stairs, Yeosang's laugh echoing around the staircase, "It's not like you're late for a date!" he yelled only for San to turn and glare at him, stopping dead in his tracks, "I'm late to pick her up from work."

"Ah yes, because her being there makes traffic jams a bit more bearable!" he yelled from the end of the staircase laughing when San flipped him off while driving by.

She stood there, leaning against the ceramic pot, the guard didn't let her in, saying she had to mention who she was here to see and even though she had said Mr.Choi, she really didn't know which department he worked in, which is why she was asked to wait outside.

So, here she was, standing in the middle of the rain with her umbrella, staring at the cars zooming past her, the security guard inside the glass cabin giving her an apologetic smile once in a while.

Sighing she looked at her shoes, the pavement not doing much to stop the water from sliding onto the road. The pavement was getting busier too, most people just got free and as much as she loved the city, she wondered, at any given moment alone if this was a risk worth taking. A slight shove from a passerby had her stumble a few steps forward, stopping right at the edge of the pavement, not even a sorry was thrown in her direction.

She turned to glare at the woman running away in heels before a honk caught her attention, turning to spot the familiar car as it slowed down, the door opening for her as the driver moved back onto his seat, quickly she got in, making sure to close her umbrella and shove a plastic bag around it ungracefully, turning to smile at the driver, "hi-"

"Why are you here?" he spat, frowning at her before flicking on his blinker, "It's raining and I said I'll pick you up no? I didn't say you'd pick me up from work."

Sighing she shook her head, "Sorry Mr.Choi." She said that a lot, more often than either would like, it would make his heart clench every time and Yeosang would call him a bastard every time he'd mention this to him in his daily narratives.

"I- what I mean is...I was a bit late so I texted you, you didn't have to come all the way here and stand in the rain out on the street." his words softer than before, as he stopped at a traffic light, glancing at her from the rear-view mirror, watching her pout.

"I- my phone died...so I didn't know and, I was waiting but then when you didn't come...I was worried...about you so I came here and- "She was worried about him, something within him pulled at his heart, she was waiting for him? But before the feeling could settle in, her usual nonstop chatter began, shaking him out of his fever dream, "What's your department by the way, they wouldn't let me in! Said there were so many Chois! Did you know that!?? I mean Jongho is a Choi too, and then there Choi Minho- he's cute, I like him, I like Shinee...do you?"

"I...." unsure of which question to answer first he frowned before he began to drive shaking his head at her, "I’m the director of the finance department." he sighed earning a chuckle, side-eying her only for her to stop and clear her throat. He nodded at her, ignoring her first half of the statement, though the latter portion had the tips of his turning red.

"Sorry, that would just explain your expensive taste, Mr.Choi...would explain the Windsor knot too."

She stood in front of his door, checking the time once more, it was almost seven and his car was still in the parking lot. Yes, she had run down the flight of stairs to check if he was still there. She had called him too but his phone was switched off so she did the next best thing, called Jongho.

"JONGHO-"

"It's seven- no, wait- listen your monstrosity it’s not even seven yet, what do you WANT." He yelled, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear, whining an apology.

"Mr.Choi won’t answer my calls or open the door what do I do??"

"My poor baby." he cooed at her in a taunting manner, "maybe you finally did to him what the pressure his job couldn’t."

"What? What do you mean?" she asked before deciding to take matters into her own hands.

"Corporate pressure was nothing compared to you, I'm sure he's at peace now-"

"OH, SCREW YOU, I'M IN." with that, she hung up, entered his apartment and marched towards his room- the only place in his apartment she hadn't seen. Knocking on his bedroom door she slowly peeked in, only to be met by a room filled with clothes lying around, the curtains drawn close and the heater on full blast. Stepping in, careful not to step on the clothes she walked over to a heap of blankets on the bed, resting her hand on it as she gently shook it, "Mr.Choi."

The lack of movement just had her worrying even more, as she leaned closer pressing her ear against the cotton, hearing his laboured breathing, shaking her head she announced, "Mr.Choi, I'm gonna pull these off!" with that she ripped off the two- no three quilts he was cocooned in earning a gasp as he quickly sat up, hugging himself shivering in cold sweat.

He stared at her with surprised eyes, "W-what are you- shit, what time is it?"

"Forget what about the time, you're burning up." pressing her palm over her sweaty, warm forehead she frowned, taking in his flushed face, pushing his hair back so she could take a better look at him, then glanced down at his ...sweaters.

"How many layers...."

"I was cold." he whined, closing his eyes when she carded her fingers through his hair, trying to fix his hair, basically pushing it out of his face, "Of course you are...I'm going to get you something to drink...probably do something else about the fever. You take off your ...layers until then, okay?" she asked tugging at his sweater, earning yet another uncharacteristic whine - or maybe this is who he really was, she was just used to him acting all strong and mighty.

"Okay," he mumbled before reaching for the blanket again only to slap his hand away. Pulling his hand away with a gasp he gave her an offended, traumatised look.

"No." was all she said before going over to turn off the heater and opening the window to let out the stuffiness, "I'll be back in ten minutes and I better see those off you, understood?"

Wow, since when did she become all assertive? He thought to himself but only nodded at her instructions, it had been a while since someone had actually put in the effort to take care of him. This is what a good neighbour would do right? He'd take care of her too, right? He had already helped her make a payment plan that she was using to buy off the apartment her parents owned, he had met Jongho too, a nice but horrible fellow, but one that could push her and keep her on track, much like San he believed in her, claiming that

'If they didn't get her engaged with a man six years older than her, she would've had time to grow. Soohyuk wasn't bad but he was 26 and she was 20, he had a set plan, and she didn't even know what she wanted to major in- I don't blame either of them, marriage isn't a business transaction.

He watched her leave the room, glancing at the handbag on his side table, he'd seen her grow though, a few more months and the apartment would be hers, plus the cafe was getting good traffic so there was no real issue there. Though Jongho did threaten him, reminding him of how influential she was even if she wasn't on her parent's payroll anymore, any funny business would mean his career was over.

Slowly he began to take off the layers just doing what she had asked then falling face forward on the pillow, listening to the clinking of the pots and pans.

She arrived back to him with a tray in hand, for a busy man she always marvelled over how clean his kitchen was, but then again he did remind her now and then how cleaning was a good way to destress. Starting at the sweaters on the floor, the ones he had discarded because of her instructions- guessed the cleaning was only limited to the kitchen.

Shaking her head as she made her way through the maze of blankets and clothes, she placed the tray on his side table, slowly pushing her bag off the table. Sliced fruit and lots of water, followed by some Advil. He wasn't shivering anymore, so that was good, "Mr.Choi!" Turning to him she smiled, "Have some break...fast-" Good lord that some back, like that, was...wow.

"What?" pushing up on his hands he turned his head to look at her only for her to cover her face, with her hands squeaking, "WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES?"

Scoffing he sat up, his headache just adding to his bratty attitude, "Because you yelled at me too and I'm still wearing my pants." Why was she being like this, she was so mean, she even left the window open, he was so cold, his neck and shoulders hurt and it was all because of that damn window, "My shoulders are killing me because of the window you left open too!"

"I-" Lowering her hands she looked at him, sitting on his knees, staring at her with a pout, what a man-child.

"First of all, sit properly, and eat, have the medicine it'll help with the pain and" Bending down she picked up a discarded shirt, handed it to him, "Window stays open or you take a cold shower."

That was all it took for the big boy to sit there, eating his sliced apples, which were never-ending, until he realised, she was slicing up even more, and an Advil later he began to come back to his senses, clearing his throat as he tried to roll his shoulders to ease the discomfort, which ended up being futile.

"I'm sorry for not informing you, I think I switched off my phone after sending in my sick leave." sighing he leaned back against the pillows, shaking his head when she was about to cut another apple, "Please. I'm full."

With a pout, followed by a suspicious glance she nodded, placing the fruit back down and taking his empty plate off his lap. Leaning closer she pressed her hand on his forehead, he was still warm but it was better than before mumbling, "It's alright, Jongho can handle stuff better than me anyway."

Letting out a soft chuckle, his fingers gripped her wrists gently, pulling her hand away from his skin, "That's funny, I remember him telling me how he desperately needs you to deal with all the customers and manage stuff," he whispered, only then realising how close the two were to each other, with her leaning on the bed, her knee pressing onto the mattress next to his leg, "I can see that you really can."

"I..." averting her gaze she mumbled a thank you before asking, "How's the pain?" slowly pulling away as she sat back down, but his fingers still held onto her, though he didn't notice, he was holding onto her, as if she was grounding him to reality, or some form of happiness that he did not want to let go, at least not now. She however noticed this new profound clinginess and she'd be lying if she were to say she didn't like it, this feeling of being wanted, of being important and valued.

"Hurts." pouting he leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes like that would turn off the headache, his thumb mindlessly caressing her skin, "Shouldn't have picked up those stupid weights...Jongho did this on purpose."

"JONGHO?"

His grip tightened when he winced at her tone, shooting her glare for which she quickly apologised, before pestering him, glad she was wearing pants as she pulled her hand away and moved closer to him, standing on her knees on the bed beside him, gripping his shoulders, "Mr.Choi, please tell me. What has he told you?"

"N-nothing." he cleared his throat, trying to scoot away but her grip on his shoulders tightened, fingers digging into the muscle, causing him to let out an involuntary moan before she completely pulled away, "I- I’m sorry did that hurt."

Groaning he hunched over, shaking his head, "No, no, it felt good...sorry." Rubbing his neck, he looked at her, taking in her flushed features before sighing, "I uh...Jongho and I go to the gym together...he asked because he wanted to go too, I already go there with a friend from work...don't worry your secrets are safe with him."

Nodding at his statement she stood up and moved pointing at the chair she was sitting on, "Sit."

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her, narrowing his eyes, glaring at her, almost playfully. Taking a few moments for her to get all nervous causing her to clear her throat, "I- I mean I can massage your shoulders, I- Jongho uses this oil, uses me like a free massage person too for his neck and-"

Raising his hand, he stopped her, slowly getting off the bed with a groaning sitting down as instructed before glancing at her, "Just don't strangle me, okay? He did mention how you have the death grip of a man."

If she weren't too distracted by the sight of him following her orders, she would've jumped down the window. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the oil out of her bag, yes, she carried that around in case Jongho pulled something like the old man he was.

Once she began working on his neck, fingers pressing into the knots he bit his lip, trying to hold in the sounds that were about to burst through, if this was the privilege Jongho got for being her best friend, he'd sign up too.

For about ten minutes she went on with her usual routine, only to stop when his head fell back against her belly, going limp her hold- Oh. He had fallen asleep. She stood there, holding onto his slouching form, taking in his relaxed features. She hadn't seen him this relaxed before, he almost looked...too cute. Speaking of cute, she had learned many things about him today, from how he was actually just as whiny as he pretended not to be, to how he ate almost 5 apples before stopping, she did notice how his fridge was mostly empty other than having eggs, and leftover take out. Maybe they should have more dinners together, maybe she could cook actual homemade food for him.

Slowly helping him up, he drowsily mumbled something before falling onto the bed, as she tucked him in. Glancing at the time she sighed, she'd spent most of the day here, giving him one more look she reached for his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, "Rest well Mr.Choi."

The next morning San woke up better than ever, he knew the fatigue was getting to him but he didn't stop, he probably had forgotten how to stop. That would explain why he fell sick, but who knew he lived right next door to an angel? What surprised him more was how his entire room was clean, all his clothes were neatly folded and stacked in one place, blankets folded at the edge of his bed and the water bottles no longer littered around. She really didn't have to do so much.

Picking up his phone he checked his messages, opening hers first before Yeosang's or Mingi's

'Hope you're better now Mr Choi. Advil is on the console and I restocked your apples. Don't worry, I went to work myself today, like a big girl. You get some rest.'

Smiling at her message he leaned against the pillow, yeah, this is exactly what neighbours do.

"A car?"

"Yes, a car." he sighed, turning the laptop to her, "You can get one on loan, I can fix you up with a good payment plan." he smiled at her, only to frown at the way she was frowning at her lap, "What's...wrong?"

"I- No I- thank you, it really does mean a lot." she cleared her throat, trying to control her expression, he was tired of her, he had to be, "I just...are you- I mean if you feel our routine is taxing then-"

Shaking his head he closed the laptop, turning fully to face her own couch, she was sitting on his very expensive couch, crushing the very expensive cushion in her lap, but it was okay, because it was her, and this time, the after work hours, a few hours before would fall asleep had become their time, where she would go on and on about stuff, only for him to add in a few bits- not because he wasn't interested but because he wanted her to speak, he wanted her to be heard, that and he was still too afraid that if she were to find out he was but from a simple background, from a small town like Namhae, she might never come back here. He wanted to watch her grow, he wanted to watch her business grow and bloom into what she had dreamt for it to be, he wanted to help her and this was a way of helping her.

"It's not...taxing. But...you need to" Pausing to take a moment to think, he noticed how her nails were digging into the leather, shaking that thought away he sighed, "You need to be independent, I'm not saying we change our routine, but you should lax yours, you don't have to leave at 6 am every morning and you don't need to come back home at around 8 or 9. Like you couldn't go when I was sick and then took the bus." he paused, taking in her appearance, only to find her pouting at the TV - yes, he had her buy a TV too because he refused to believe watching stuff on your laptop was better than the TV, though just like every other day she'd come over and watch his TV instead saying it's boring to watch TV alone. Reaching for the remote he paused the movie, to get her to only focus on him, having her look at him, "Like I was saying, a car can help you fix that and what if you need to collect your packaging or go buy fresh produce from the farmer's market? You can't always take a cab, it's not safe- you're earning well enough, I'm not saying buy one because of me, I'm saying buy one because it's your need, you shouldn't depend on anyone, not even me."

Clearing his throat, he met her soft, warm eyes, watching her stare at him intently, before blinking slowly at looking at the laptop, her grip on the cushion loosened,

"I like...the red one."

"A car? I- is this 4-year plan? SAN NO." Yeosang stared at the spreadsheet before turning to San who was calmly sipping on his warm cup of coffee, the logo bright enough for Yeosang to roll his eyes, "Listen, lover boy, I get your head over heels for her, but this is a stupid idea, four years with the same car, four years and she's still paying it off- what if she wants to change the car??"

"Yeosang, she's not big on change, and four years max, the payment plan is flexible in terms of quotas she can pay, knowing Jongho he’ll make her pay it all off within two years maximum." he said as he placed his cup down, leaning against his swivel chair, earning another groan from the man across the table, "Man, just buy her a car then."

"No."

"WHY NOT"

"Because she has to learn."

"And you need to grow a pair, big enough to tell her you like her."

"I don't like her." he sighed rolling closer to his desk to turn on his laptop, eying Yeosang who looked at the papers once more, "No, you do not like her...you convinced her to buy a car, made an entire payment plan for her and told her the initial deposit fee was waved off even though YOU paid it- you don't like her my friend," standing up the marketing director walked to the door of the office, turning to glance at his friend with one final smirk before leaving, "You're in love with her."

"Jongho, can you get me more napkins?" she called out to the man who was busy singing in the kitchen, at this point she could just ask him to get himself recorded, she was sure Hongjoong wouldn’t say no to either of them. Rush hour was about to start and for that, she needed to prepare, even if the business was booming, they were still short-staffed, and Jongho’s lack of people skills was dragging the interview session longer than she had anticipated. Though she was partially to blame, she was often too preoccupied with work and then well… a certain suited man, from the car ride home to the apartment, to dinner. They had begun to have dinner together more frequently, she often cooked as well, the first time she took a homecooked dish to his place he almost cried at dinner, excusing himself to go to the kitchen for more ‘napkins’, though from the faint sniffing from the kitchen and how long he took there had her believing her suspicions were right, once he looked at her with puffy eyes. Though she never said anything, smiling at him like she always did, for once feeling as if she wasn’t falling behind, cupid could walk right by her and she wouldn’t mind, her heart was already on a platter for someone else, she was just waiting for him to realise this little fact. So, she too, was too busy to even go through the files, but one of these days she’ll definitely get back to it.

The little chime of the bell had her look up from the counter, smiling at the customer only to almost drop to her knees at the man who had walked in- no, he was a fairy- could men be fairies? An angel? No, what on earth was this creature, his face holding the same innocence of an angel, but when he spoke, it was as if she heard the grumble of a dragon- damn. Shaking away her thoughts she smiled at him, greeting him as he stepped closer, oh how she loved men in suits- or rather just one man, with the cute Windsor knot, she noticed how he’d changed it from his usual ones.

“I’ll have whatever you like.” He smiled at her, before looking around, “This place new?”

“Yes, Sir, it is, may I ask if you have any allergies?” she asked before punching in a combo number, to which he shook his head.

“Cash or card?”

“What does Mr.Choi use?”

“What?” she froze, looking up from the monitor to meet his smirk, well, that was new, “I’m sorry, what was that sir?”

“I said card.”

With that she quickly swiped his card, asking him to wait for a while until she came to him with his order. Yeosang wanted to tell her who he was, but the way she stared up at him like a school girl caught slipping a note in her crush’s locker forced him to stop himself, she looked almost too innocent to bully like that- perhaps he should leave the teasing for San instead.

You should've gotten the latest model." the man stormed into his friend's room, earning a look of surprise, leaning right to spot his secretary raise his hands in defence, Mingi was always so useless at times like this.

"Dude, in a meeting." he sighed gesturing at the muted call, only for Yeosang to snort, roll his eyes and sit down cross-legged across the man, sipping on a cup of coffee, "I cannot believe you let someone like that wait in the rain for you," he mumbled as soon as San joined the call once more, back to business.

"What-" he looked up from the screen to glare at the brunette pausing at the cup, oh, "Oh you went-

"Of course, I WENT- I had to check her out okay and I- you really are a d*ck, she isn't slow-witted at all, she's just cute. That's how girls are, not that you'd know you simpleton."

"San your mic isn't muted" They heard a chuckle only for him to panic and Yeosang to choke on his coffee, both men apologising to their boss who just laughed it off- luckily the meeting was being held during the break, which meant this conversation could happen since they were off the clock for a while.

Much like any other day off, San had decided to do his basic house chores, and since his neighbour now had her own car, he didn’t need to worry about that today which was good, because he really did need to clean up. With the trash bag in hand, he walked out of his apartment, only to stop and stare at the figure hunched over by the elevator, what the- oh wait what?

Jogging over to her he tapped her shoulder, “Are you okay?” placing the back down he crouched down to get a better look at her face, only to frown at her pained expression, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, just came back from the doc’s.” she sighed before slowly straightening back up, giving him a faulty smile, “All’s good Mr.Choi….cleaning day today?” she mumbled, changing the topic as she made her way to her apartment, not really giving him any time to answer.

She was almost in bed when she heard the front door beep open, man, she shouldn't have shared the passcode. Nonetheless, she walked back out to find him standing there in her hallway, frowning at her before marching towards her, "What happened? Why were you at the doctor's?"

"I'm fine, just a bit sick I-" pausing her eyes clenched shut, whimpering as she held onto her stomach, trying to breathe out the pain.

"That's it, we're going to get you checked again." he declared, grabbing her wrist before she snatched it away, "NO! Leave me alone." He blinked at her, taking in the sudden outburst, somewhat offended, did he overstep a boundary? Scanning her pale face he noticed the way her lower lip trembled, was she...going to cry?

"Please..."

That was all it took for Choi San to leave, not forcing her for anything. If she wanted to be alone, fine, she'd be alone, but she didn't need to yell at him like that, and then cry, that just confused him. Maybe she was offended that he came in even though she clearly tried to avoid him, but...they'd usually just walk into each other's apartments like that, that wasn't new. His phone ringing was what had him stop the brooding session, picking up the call,

"Hey."

"You need to help your stupid neighbour."

"I...well she told me she wanted to be alone Jongho, I think she's sick but won't go to the doctor," San mumbled, a bit too desperately.

"That..." he could practically see Jongho roll his eyes at him, "Because it's that time of the month."

"What time of the month?"

"Choi San, do you have a sister?"

"Yeah, why?"

".... she on her period man- look, I called you because we cancelled all the interviews for a new hire today but this one moron won't listen and I know he's going to go to her place so you gotta tell her."

"WAIT WHAT- she was in so much pain though." no wonder she wanted him to leave, no wonder she yelled at him and then began crying.

"Mhmmm...kay bye".

"JONGHO WAIT-" he looked at the phone and sighed, this man just wanted him to lose his mind, nothing else. He'd do this to him often, even at the gym. Like when he'd be lifting weights, that one time when San accidentally dropped a dumbell on his foot when Jongho casually told him, "Did you know she's in guys with nice butts, and apparently when I stare at a lady with a nice butt for a while, she calls me a pervert." Or the time he almost lost his footing on the treadmill while running, Jongho who was casually standing next to him, staring at his reflection through the mirror, "Glad she hasn't seen your arms, she has a thing for being put in a WWE style headlock." yet, here he was telling her that her secrets were safe with Jongho.

She felt someone tap her shoulder, her soul almost left her body, her scream muffled by his palm as he held her down, "It's me, it's me..." he whispered, pulling away slowly as she sat up, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it, repeatedly, "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!"

Clicking his tongue, he snatched it out of her hand and glared at her, though he wasn't angry, his annoyed expression just confused her even more when he pointed at a brown paper bag he had placed beside her. His face flushed as he averted his gaze, clearing his throat, "Jongho said...someone's coming for an interview. This has...stuff for you...I don't know what you particularly use, so I got...most of it."

"What do you mean, I cancelled the interviews and what did you bring for me-"

The doorbell cut her off, her eyes widening in disbelief, no, did Jongho really give her address? She was fighting with the blanket, trying to get it off her when he stopped her, gently pushing her back to lay down, "It's fine...I'll interview him."

He was about to leave but she gripped his wrist, "No, Mr.Choi it's fine, you've done more than enough-"

"You took care of me last time." he smiled at her before taking something out of the paper, "Now let me take care of you." placed the item in her lap he rolled his eyes when the bell rang again, leaving the room.

What in the name of everything did Jongho tell him? She looked at the chocolate bar, it was her favourite, and she had only mentioned it once, oh my god, did he know she was on her period? Snatching the bag from the edge of the bed she turned it over, its contents falling all over the place. Good grief.... this man...he had gotten her every product he could find. Napkins, tampons, he even bought her heating pads, and other pain medicine, by the time she was done counting the things he had gotten her she was already crying, ugly sobbing at best.

San went to the door, opening it to be greeted by a man with sharp eyes. Technically, his overall appearance was sharp, from his features to his suit- was he really wearing a suit? The only thing about him that seemed remotely soft was his hair, though he looked like a fresh graduate so why apply to a cafe, that too one that was a new seed in the market?

"Good afternoon. Is Ms.L/N here? My name is Jung Wooyoung, I had an interview appointment with her-"

"At the cafe but they were cancelled." San cut him off, leaning against the door as he tried to stare down the shorter man.

Wooyoung stared at the man in sleeveless sweatpants, who was he? Husband? Boyfriend? Some annoying friend? He could pick a fight with him, but then he needed this job, really did.

Clearing his throat, he nodded, before bowing, "I apologise for the intrusion but I thought my eagerness may have a positive impact."

San stared at him, the perfect 90°, he'd seen that before, many times, he'd been there before too. He knew the feeling, the anxiety and dread that accompanied it, the desperation to finally achieve something. Finally, put the years and money spent on education to use.

"It's...fine, come in."

That's how Wooyoung found himself sitting on a brightly coloured couch, looking around, though he saw no signs of masculinity anywhere, so her boyfriend didn't live with her. He knew his way around the place though. Who was going to interview him though?

San walked out of the kitchen with a tray of tea, placing it on the coffee table as Wooyoung thanked him, getting up to take his mug. No, everything was too feminine so does this mean- what if this dude was a serial killer? Oh my god!?! Did he KILL HER AND IS NOW GOING TO KILL HIM? IS THIS COFFEE POISONED?? Slowly bringing the mug to his nose, sniffing it.

San raised a brow at him, what on earth was this psycho doing? He was about to ask when they heard something crash, instantly getting up he turned to leave, pausing for a moment to loom at Wooyoung, "I'll be right back, please stay here."

Oh my gosh, he was a killer! Wait, she was still alive! He could help her? What should he do? Think Wooyoung, think! Standing up he walked down the same path he did, peaking through the door left ajar.

San frowned as he picked her up, ignoring her whines, "What exactly were you doing?" he asked walking over to the bed, holding her in his arms as she covered her flushed face with her hands mumbling "The clock stopped working."

"Seriously?" quirking a brow at her he stopped walking, looking at her then at the bed, stuff scattered across it, files, pens and her laptop, "Didn't I tell you to rest?"

"I was but then I heard Mr.Jung and I wanted to read his file," she explained, leaning against his chest, mentally noting how he was holding onto her like she weighed lighter than a feather.

He clicked his tongue in protest, about to talk about how he'd handle it but the door burst open, a Mr.Jung stomping in, holding an umbrella in hand, "UNHAND HER YOU PERVERT!"

She flinched when the door slammed open, squeaking as she hugged him close, burying her face in his shirt, arms wrapped around his neck, curling into him as if he'd protect her. On the other hand, San stood there rooted at the spot, at first he was confused as to what Wooyoung was even doing until he noticed the faux bravery morph into some form of fear, his panic setting in.

Wooyoung stood there, umbrella in the air, taking in the sight before him, a man carrying a woman bridal style...oh shit they were together. Please did he Wooyoung himself again?

"I am so sorry Miss-"

"It's alright." she cleared her throat, never in her life did she think she'd interview someone whilst being in her pyjamas, the little hearts printed on her shirt and pants. Next to her San sat at a good distance, his face as red as the pot of a plant near the window, intently staring at the coffee table, not even listening to the two converse- he wasn't carrying her around for fun! He was just helping her! She fell off the stool because of the stupid clock and- and her back hurt so his brain just...picking her up was easier and-

"Mr.Choi?"

"Hmm?" instantly turning to her, he regretted it as quick, taking in her soft gaze, almost wanting to crumble at the feet, shit, this wasn't good.

"I said I should hire Mr.Jung, right?"

"Uh...I guess?" he mumbled, discreetly glaring at Wooyoung when she began reading his credentials too, they were good, but managing to be a distinguished student in the country's best culinary school wasn't easy.

"I- I'm sorry for intruding Sir." he cleared his throat, if he had to kiss this man's pointy polished shoes to get this job he would, "I should've known you're her boyfriend, it was a lack of better judgement on my part." He paused to look up at him, only to find the man before him malfunctioning, then glancing at the woman who looked like she was swooning, almost awake inside a dream.

"We're just neighbours!" he blurted out, not liking how Wooyoung's neutral expressions morphed into the sassiest, most judgemental look of 'Nah, I don't think so', as he hunched over the table to take a better look at the two.

"I live next doo-"

"You're hired Mr.Jung, I'll see you tomorrow at work!"

"Wow, that's...kinda regret not being there to see it." Jongho hummed, taking out an apron and tossing it to Wooyoung who cleared his throat, "I mean, I didn't intend to make things awkward."

"Sure man." was all Jongho said before patting him on the back, "But until she comes back to work, you're on counter duty, kitchen is off limits." with that he walked away, leaving the new employee to sigh in defeat, looking around at the empty cafe. Considering she was 'still sick' she'd left Jongho in charge but that man was too busy not interacting with customers and staying hidden in the kitchen, occasionally singing out loud- at least he could sing.

He stared through the glass doors, looking at the people passing by, everyone with a purpose, yet, here he was still trying to find his purpose.

The doors opened and someone walked in, phone pressed onto his ear, his coat neatly folded in half, hanging off his other forearm, the buttons of his waistcoat fighting for their lives when the man heaved out a heavy sigh, "No Mingi, the report is supposed to be sent to Mr Park from the IT department, Park Seonghwa, send it to him and get back to me." A frown was permanently etched onto his face, brows knitted together as he pulled his phone off his ear and stuffed it in his pocket, only froze when he looked at Wooyoung.

The two just stood there staring at each other for a good ten seconds before Wooyoung cleared his throat and greeted him, "We can pretend nothing happened Mr.Choi."

Scratching his neck the businessman nodded, licking his lips out of embarrassment, "Yeah...sure"

"So, what can I get you, unfortunately, the menu still comprises of the usual since I'm not allowed in the kitchen till the boss lady comes." His professionalism impressed San, honestly, he did think the guy couldn't pull it off but he was glad he wasn't mentioning yesterday at all.

"Oh umm... Jongho knows I called him-"

"Yes, yes, no need to wet your expensive pants Mr.Choi." the kitchen door opened as Jongho walked out with two giant paper bags, San's eyes scanning the change of printing, somewhat proud she took his suggestion on investing in merchandise printing.

"Here's your usual, one for Princess Mingi and the other princess who lives next door." Placing the bags on the counter he smirked at the man, who cleared his throat, trying not to look at Wooyoung whose resting b*tchface was back, comprised of the look which San easily read, 'Nice to see a clown clowning himself.'

"So, aren't corporate breaks supposed to be like...40 minutes long?" Jongho asked, leaning against the counter as he sighed, "You gonna hurry there and back or you gonna eat with her-"

"I- she has to give paperwork for you that's why she called me, I had a half day anyway." He mumbled, quickly taking out his card that Wooyoung slowly took from him, side-eying the man, who was still mumbling excuses, though all Wooyoung could hear was "We're just neighbours".

Of course, they were just neighbours.

Shit. Of all the times his car decided to throw a tantrum, it was now. Not only did he leave work late but it was raining, so now, Choi San sat in his car staring at the empty highway, the streetlights his only companion. Clicking his tongue, he tried to switch on the engine again, trying to press on the gas, only for the vehicle to whine in refusal. Sighing he gripped the wheel, resting his forehead against it, sighing at the coolness of the leather. What could he do? Get a cab? No, no cabs would be around right now. Call Yeosang? No, he lived in the opposite direction, he would come to help him, but he knew the man had a presentation due tomorrow. He could…call her. He didn’t want to though; things had become a bit…awkward.

Truth be told he didn’t really want to admit it, but after the Wooyoung incident, he tried to pretend nothing happened and to his amazement, she did too, their routine was as normal as ever, conversations would flow easily, though she’d still do most of the talking. Until one particular Friday night when they were having dinner at her place, she told him she wouldn’t be carpooling anymore because she had finally gotten used to driving and needed to go to other places. Although he was proud, his smile indicating his happiness and joy to see her bloom into a beautiful flower, a nostalgic and heavy blue began to spread in his chest, weighing down on his appetite, as he slowly put down the fork, pushing the plate ever so gently and discreetly, looking at her intently when she began to show him the route she’d take to the market, asking him if it was good or if there was another route. Unfortunately, was too busy looking at her to even care, to even give an honest opinion, she was glowing that night, and he could bask in her warmth forever, but there was no such thing as forever, he knew that happy endings were nonsense, especially when it came down to him. So, after that night, he had slowly begun to distance himself, making sure to leave before she’d wake up and come back later than usual, texting would just comprise of him sending one-liner responses, and he’d even cancelled some of their dinners together saying he had to stay in the office late. Yeosang had asked him a few times about her, but all he’d say was that she was busy and he didn’t want to interfere- that was true though, it was he who helped her out with all the planning and the financial agenda, it was him who supported her endlessly, who pulled her back up to her feet when she’d be close to giving up- but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch her fly away from the front row seats, no, he’d rather see his swan take flight with grace and elegance from the sidelines, he’d be there, he’d always be there, but like her shadow, after all, he too was afraid of being hurt, he couldn’t handle it, not again, after all, they were just neighbours.

A tap on the window had him jerking back into sitting properly, blinking away the blurriness he turned to the window, eyes widening at the figure outside before lowering the window, “What are you-

“Need a ride?” she smiled, trying to conceal any other emotion bubbling within her, her grip on the umbrella tightening when she noticed his frown, not responding to her question, though she could see the questions swirling in his eyes, possibly at the tip of his tongue, but she knew he’d never ask, just keep them in, let them simmer into something else, probably guilt…or anger.

“I had to do a complete inventory check today so I closed up late. Was driving by and I saw your car…” gesturing towards her own car that was parked in front of his, the hazards blinking in the rain.

“My car…broke down.” He mumbled, before reaching for his bag and nodding at her, letting her move back before coming out of the car, waiting for the rain to pour down on his already defeated parade, but that didn’t happen, for she had extended her arm to full height, tilting forward so he was covered by it, letting the water splash onto her head instead. There she went again, worrying about him, trying to rip open the bag he was gripping onto tight, not wanting anything to spill out.

Patting the droplets off her she pulled out a few tissues and dried her hands. He sat next to her, buckled up, laptop bag on his lap, even though she had told him to put it on the backseat but he refused, holding onto it like a child throwing a tantrum. They’d been driving silently for a while, the only sound between them was of the rain slapping against her little red card.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” she asked, trying not to speed on the slippery highway, the rain had worsened, who knew a light shower was going to turn into a full-blown storm? The problem wasn’t the rain in general but visibility was becoming an issue, well, there was this third party between them, a form of invisible wall that was keeping the two apart, or rather he was being pulled away, while she just held onto him, trying to pull him back to her, though ever so slowly she could sense that he was letting go of her hand.

He never responded to her question, just continuing with the silent treatment. Sighing out of frustration she flicked the left blinker before slowly parking across the yellow line at the side of the road, before them the road was barely visible, she thought he’d question but he didn’t he wasn’t stupid, even though he didn’t want to be here, stuck in the same space as her, too afraid he’d blurt out all he had hidden, he knew even if he took the wheel instead of her, he couldn’t see through the rain. So, the two sat in silence, as if the other wasn’t there, one of the most awkward the two had been with each other like they were strangers all over again. That is until she finally decided to take matters into her own hands,

“Are you…upset with me?”

He looked up from his lap to her, a small pout present on his lips before shaking his head and turning back to stare at his lap.

“Do you…not want to be friends with me anymore?” she knew these questions were somewhat pointless, in the time they had spent together she had learned one thing, that he was rarely bothered by her, in fact sometimes he’d go out of his way to make her feel better, make her feel safer, so what bothered her was not knowing what had he pulling away like this. She thought as she’d grown more independent, he’d be happy, proud of her progress, not this.

“No.”

Was all he said, not even bothering to look at her, instead choosing to take out his phone, maybe he could just check on work or- he couldn’t though, because she snatched it out of his hand. His head whipped in her direction, and a glare followed, “Give it back.” He spat only for her to shake her head and shove it in the pocket of her, shaking her head.

“I said give it back. I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.” Groaning he leaned closer to her, trying to reach for her pocket but she slapped his hand off his pocket, only for him to grip her wrist, trying to hold his anger at bay.

“Not until you tell me why you hate me!” she yelled tugging her wrist out of his grasp.

“I DON’T HATE YOU!” he yelled back, turning to her completely, his laptop bag falling off his lap, God this car for so small, he barely had leg room!

“THEN WHY ARE YOU PULLING AWAY!”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND AND WATCH WHILE YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND!”

“I- she froze at his words, the weight of the statement settling in around them. Letting out a sigh he turned around, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to control his breathing, trying to stop his thoughts from running around, pushing and shoving every emotion he had buried in below. For a moment he even thought of stepping out in the rain to cool down, but the gentle grip of his shoulder stopped him.

“Mr.Choi please I would never leave you behind, I-

“Oh, stop it, would you.” He scoffed, brushing her hand off his shoulder, “I’ve known you for what? Six, seven months now and you still don’t call me by my first name, I- I literally use your name and you’re so impersonal that –

“I don’t know your first name.”

Once again, they were greeted with silence, at this point the sound of the rain was the only thing keeping the two from exploding at one another, a series of bottled-up feelings, emotions that were untouched for so long, that the layer of dust on them had turned into a sheet of sand, one that had obscured rationality and logic.

“What” Taking in a deep breath he began, “What do you mean?”

Rolling her eyes at him she huffed, “Because you never told me, not once, since the day I met you the only way I found out your last name too was because the security guard greets you as Mr.Choi, and he did that the first next you dropped me home.” Taking the phone out of her pocket she placed it on the dashboard in front of him, “I don’t know why you think I’d leave you; I now own the apartment next to you thanks to you, I have dinner with you almost every other day, I let you carry me around when I’m tired, I cook meals for you not because I am obligated but because I want to, I- I ask you for help all the time with the full confidence that you’ll never say no”, pausing she looked at the road, the rain had slowed, much like the whirlpool of unkempt emotions that were stirring between them, “ and if you haven’t realised by now, I’m not very big on change. So, no, Mr.Choi, I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”

“San” he whispered, staring at the road ahead, much like her, too afraid to even look at her, who knew all it would take was a confession like that to calm him down, put his worries to rest, untying the bag he had knotted up so well after he had his broken heart handed back to him.

“Nice to meet you San.” Was all she said before starting the car, now driving home, after the much fearsome, prolonged storm. No other words were exchanged, but unlike before, the silence was no longer awkward or heavy, it was pleasant, a new kind of pleasant, one that oddly enough he was welcoming.

The ride up the elevator was no different, the two were walking casually like nothing had happened, though San knew something had happened, and for some reason, the bitter-sweet reality of it made him want something more to happen, he was only looking for the right moment for it to happen.

She was about to enter her apartment when he called her out, causing her to turn around and almost bump into him, when had he come so close?

“I don’t want to be just neighbours anymore.”

Facing him properly she nodded looking up at him, “I see, then what do you want?”

“I…” averting his gaze he thought for a moment, wondering if he could jump into it, or take caution and slowly see where it goes, though the little critter in his chest was begging him to let loose, his rationality projected by his fears had him second-guessing almost every micro decision he had come up with in these seconds, “I…want…more?”

“Then,” pursing her lips together she narrowed her eyes at him, moving closer to see if he’d move back, but he didn’t, he stood there, staring at her intently, shy yet so curious, she’d barely ever seen him like this before, her lips curving into a smile, “Let’s take it slow?”

He nodded a bit too eagerly at her question, earning a chuckle from her, as she turned around and pointed inside, “Dinner? Though it’s late, I can make us something light?” He had followed her inside that night, somewhat nervous about starting a new chapter in his life, yet, excited like a little boy about to win a race.

“Mr.Choi, there’s uhh…there’s someone here to meet you?” Mingi’s voice blared out of the speaker causing San to stop typing, frowning at the time, it was 11 am he had no meetings for the day, so why would someone just pop up, Yeosang was on leave today as well so- the door opened and he could hear Mingi calling someone out, “Miss! Wait Mr.Choi hasn’t allowed you to-

“It's…fine Mingi.” He nodded at his assistant, before his eyes locked with her, her smile radiant as ever, as she coly made her way to his desk, “Hi San.” ‘San’, she’d been using his name more often now, all night even at dinner, she’d somehow slip it in every sentence and he’d somehow slip into that gooey pool of mush every time his name would roll off her tongue.

“You- you had a day off today, right? Do you want to spend time together, I-“ he stood up, quickly trying to clean his desk though she placed something on the empty corner of the glass table, “I just came to drop off your lunch San, I made special cookies today, and if you like them, we’ll introduce them, Wooyoung even decided a name for them.”

“Oh?” he asked, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the lunch boxes, a well-fed boy was a happy boy and he was so glad she’d feed him well, even when they were ‘just neighbours’. So, knowing she was still doing that, only adding onto the perk by coming to him and surprising him at work had something within him strangling his heart in joy, “What’s the name?”

“Well…initially it was something I wanted to talk to you about if you’d be okay if I call you that, but then he said we could name them after that, but I feel like only I should be allowed to call you that.” She cleared her throat looking around his spacious office, she never thought his office would be this big or high up for the matter, not a day went by where this man didn’t amaze him.

He stopped opening the boxes to look up at her, “What do you want to call me?”

“Sannie.”

Things had been great, well, somewhat, although they were ‘no longer neighbours’, there was still no official label and it confused San how she was alright with that. Sure, they’d spend more time together now, she’d drop by sometimes before lunch just to drop off his lunch, but he was still San at work, and only Sannie when the two were alone. Moreover, they’d never really been…physical. Not that he didn’t want to ‘do the deed’ or something- well, technically- no he did but, this isn’t what he meant, he knew they were taking it slow, but sometimes, he’d feel the affectionate Sannie resurface and it would take everything in his power to hold him back. What if she wasn’t into that? What if she thought he was clingy overbearing or too sensitive? Would she think he’s coming on too strong if he asked ‘what they were’?

“Sannie?” she asked, poking his shoulder, “You aren’t eating, don’t like the food or the movie?” Placing her plate on the coffee table she paused the film when he didn’t look at her, “Sannie…you gotta talk to me about these things, I can’t read your mind-

“Would you like to start a business venture with me?” In front of him was not her Sannie or San, no, turning to face her with a hard face and honest eyes was a man sitting up straight, hands pressed against his knees, it was Mr.Choi.

“Umm…I…like a collaboration?”

“Yes, of sorts.”

“I…I mean I don’t really need Jongho’s permission it is just my business.”

“It is.”

“I guess…but don’t you already have a job, San?” was he planning on quitting?

“I do, but this venture is more important, I prefer it over my job.”

“Sannie, my café is doing good, but quitting your job for it, especially at the designation you’re at it’s not logical-

“Be my girlfriend”, he yelled in frustration, cutting her off before meekly averting his gaze, “Please…”

“I…” she took a minute to think before scooting closer to him, his fingers digging into the material of his pants, though when she placed her hands over his, he visibly relaxed, “I just love how you’re so uptight Mr.Choi.”

She smiled, but he only frowned at that, why would she call him by his last name? Did he do anything to upset her? Was he perhaps moving too quickly for her liking? Or should he have been more romantic- actually this wasn’t really romantic at all, he can’t believe he just did that, he should’ve thought this through, he should’ve planned properly, it had only been a month and –

His brain switched off because of the sudden pressure on his lips, hands automatically reaching to hold onto the source, she was…kissing him? His eyes closed when she slowly moved closer, helping her onto his lap as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, taking charge, until she slowly pushed him back, his back pressing against the sofa, eyes flickering open to meet her flushed face, a small smile gracing her lips, he had smudged her lipstick- nice.

“Do I…take that as a yes?” he sighed, body completely relaxed, his hands giving her waist a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know, maybe we should seal the deal again?”

His chuckle echoed across the room, film and food long forgotten, the only thing he could focus on was her, and slowly, he began to feel as if the gates he was trying to keep closed were merely inches away from bursting open.

“We need to talk.”

“Um…okay, why are you slowly letting go of the weights- Jongho, Jongho, buddy, stop.” He wheezed, looking up at his spotter who was glaring down at him, “How serious are you?” he asked lifting the weights ever so slightly.

“FOR STAYING ALIVE, PRETTY SERIOUS- JONGHO!” he gasped when the man almost let go of the weight.

“Should we…stop them?” Wooyoung asked, yes, he too had become their newest addition to their gym buddies’ group, Yeosang who was walking on the treadmill beside him shrugged, “I don’t think so, this is between them, plus knowing San took a year just to confess to her, even though he was treating her like he was her boyfriend, I believe Jongho has every right to harass him.”

“I’m serious.” Jongho warned, glaring at the man who was not only turning blue but was now drenched in cold sweat, shaking his head and pleading out an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

“I mean her, I’ve had to pick up the pieces once and I let it go because the guy wasn’t directly involved, but you- you son of a- you have her sitting at the café daydreaming about what you’d like to eat at night. You have her calling me at night asking me what shirt you’d think she looks best in? Would you prefer her in pants or a skirt- you have her working her ass off to make you proud and so help me God if you ever even think of hurting her-

Before he could finish his monologue San threw the weights off him, heaving as he stood up, wiping the drool off his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up straight, his breathing heavy as he looked directly at Jongho, “Never. Do that. Again. And I may be a slow-witted loser but I am no abuser- and her” he turned to look at the hoodie on the opposite bench, a blue hoodie, there was nothing special about the hoodie, but the fact that it was the first ever gift she had given him, telling him she had a matching one, so they could wear it together at home, “I don’t even think I spend a single moment of my pathetic life where I can’t be thinking about her.”

By now Yeosang and Wooyoung had gotten off the treadmills and were standing on standby just in case things escalated, but San’s confession had them staring at him in awe. Well, Wooyoung was just glad that the clown had stopped clowning himself, but Yeosang, no, he was thrilled if not glad that San had finally accepted to let himself be happy once more, he had allowed himself to love once more- even if this was just the first stage, even if they were still going through their awkward relationship stages, he was just glad to know that things were getting better for San.

Jongho looked at him before nodding, then turning to point at the weights, “Throwing gym equipment is stupid, no wonder people like you who make so much money are careless.” Clicking his tongue at him he picked up his duffle bag, “Anyway, Shakespeare, Imma hit the showers, don’t forget she’s making you pasta tonight, so you better hurry up.” He left San standing there, letting his own speech process, slowly the seed had begun to germinate and deep down he knew, he was counting on it to turn into a field, one she could run around in, laughing with joy.

Sighing she slowly pulled away from him, being extremely careful of two things; firstly, to not wake him up and secondly to not cause any harm to his sheets. She didn’t want to stay at his place tonight, she even told him no because he had an early meeting tomorrow, and she was on her… period, so to sleep over with her new boyfriend and possibly leak on his pristine white sheets was not on the agenda, that and the fact that the cramps were hitting hard and her back was probably broken just made it more difficult for her to find the perfect position.

So, that’s how she found herself sitting on his couch, hoping to God that the pain medicine would start working soon, or maybe it could take a few hours and San could get a good night’s rest and by the time he’s about to wake up, she’d slip right back in and-

“Are you okay?”

“SHIT” throwing a cushion at him she whined, especially when it hit him square in the face, causing him to stumble back, pouting at her, “What did I do?”

“I’m sorry, Sannie, I- I’m fine I promise, I just couldn’t sleep and your sheets are clean and-

“Yes, I am aware my sheets are clean, so you don’t have to worry-

“That’s why I am worried,” she sighed only for it to turn into a groan as she hugged herself, trying to ease the pain. Oh, he looked at her, he’d seen this before, he knew what had happened, “Do you think I’ll find it weird if you…I mean…It's normal if it happens right?”

“It's gross.” She mumbled only for him to sigh and slowly reach for her arm, “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked as if it was completely normal, umm…it wasn’t technically? He’d just carry her around when she’d refuse to do something or when he was in his playful Sannie mood- which was often only behind closed doors when the suit didn’t define him.

“nO” Quickly getting up she motioned for him to walk first, “Why-“

“JUST DO IT” she yelled only for him to quickly turn around and head towards his bedroom, no need to piss off his girlfriend during that time of the month. Huffing out in frustration she ‘readjusted’ her pants, trying to reposition the horrid excuse of a lady diaper, no, she did not want him to see this scene, it was not even remotely attractive.

Sighing she laid down next to him, what she had forgotten was how much this man loved physical affection because as soon as she turned to face him, he pulled her closer, her face pressing into his neck as he rested his chin on top of her head, an arm under her head acting as his pillow and the other one securely wrapped around her waist. Now she needed to stay still, especially when she heard him snore, he had fallen asleep so quickly, of course, he was tired, the guilt slowly settling in. She really should have gone home tonight.

Her body jerked when a sharp pain shot across her lower half, her fingers gripping his shirt as she held her breath, trying to restrict extra movements. At this point she could just wither away in pain, waiting for the meds to work before she wakes him up and he throws her out for not letting him get a decent night’s sleep.

For a few moments, her little movements continued until he abruptly pulled away and wordlessly sat up, to reach for something on his nightstand, probably his phone- man, she should really apologise and leave now, but before she could make her way off the bed he turned around and stood on his knees, slowly pushing her to lay on her front, “Umm…San?”

“Your back hurts, right?” he mumbled, gently lifting her shirt to reveal some of the skin, “I hope this helps, my sister recommended it.” With that he began to rub the ointment on her lower back, trying to mimic the similar motions she’d use while working on his neck or shoulders from time to time- yes, he had finally obtained that perk. He only stopped when she completely relaxed under his touch, smiling when he realised, she was asleep, gently pulling her shirt back down he got off the bed, tucking her in, making sure to place a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the bedside. Little did she know that she had been in pain all night and not just a few minutes, she dozed off sometime in between only to wake up in pain again, though he had slept through most of it peacefully, which is why when he woke up, feeling her shiver in pain, he realised getting up a few minutes before his alarm rang wouldn’t be so bad, he could use the time to help her out, so while reaching for the ointment he had also shut off his alarm, knowing he wouldn’t be going to sleep once he helped her out.

“Ignoring you?” he asked, wiping another cup and handing it to her as she stacked it on the rack with a pout, “Well, not ignoring, he’s just…gone quiet like he’s giving me the silent treatment.” She explained, looking to see if Jongho, who was brooming was listening to them, only to find him staring at her, “Oh I don’t know maybe he’s upset about the fact that your ex-fiancé came here since you invited him?”

“Wait- WAIT WHAT?” Wooyoung gasped, turning to Jongho who nodded, “Soohyuk wanted to see her, and she won’t tell me why, she called him here and ironically he and San had entered at the same time, and instead of introducing him to Soohyuk she just talked to him and ignored San.”

“Man, I’m never gonna take an off again, so much drama in one day.” Was all Wooyoung had said, yet the poor boy got smacked with a tissue, before watching her stomp out of the café, leaving the two men staring at her confused.

“Umm…do we stop her?”

“Nah…” was all Jongho said, the only reason he even knew about this issue was because the moment he had seen Soohyuk enter he knew something was up, what he didn’t expect was for her to go to him instead of San, and ironically, she didn’t even introduce San, which confused him even more. The moment he had looked at the other man, he noticed the way his eyes had gone blank, void of any emotion, yet he could see the one hiding behind his eyes, he knew what he was thinking, one of the many things San had confessed to him about- once the two had become official and Jongho would keep tabs on him- was his fear of being left behind, knowing that one day, eventually everyone would leave him, even her. So, yes, when she had walked past the finance director like he was a mere stranger, he knew this would trigger San, he just didn’t know in which direction the river would flow.

A knock on the door caused the two to look up, Yeosang just sighed, “At this point, you should just fire Mingi.” Shaking his head at his friend San called out to the person, permitting them to enter, usually with the glass walls and door he could see who was on the other side, but for the past two days the blinds were lowered, concealing whatever was happening inside his office, much like whatever was happening inside his heart. The door opened to reveal someone he had been avoiding for the past few days, though he never said anything to make her leave.

Yeosang looked at San’s expression morph into displeasure, turning in his seat to find the man’s significant other standing there, quickly standing up he smiled at her, greeting her before excusing himself.

Honestly, she was surprised by Yeosang’s reaction, she thought he’d be upset with her, Jongho was upset with her and considering Yeosang and San were good friends, she presumed that San might’ve just told him about the issue, though maybe he didn’t or maybe he did and Yeosang is just very good at pretending.

“You could’ve called.” Was all he had said until he found her standing right next to him, her hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair, turning his swivel chair to face her, his eyes widening at the proximity, they were still at his workplace, what if someone barged in? What if Mingi came in?

“I can’t fall behind, I’m tired of falling behind.” She said leaning closer, not to kiss him, but to make sure he was still looking at her, she needed him to understand her perspective, needed him to understand her insecurities, “He knows about you.”

Scoffing in retaliation he leaned closer and hissed, “I don’t care if he does,” eyes scanning her face for any hint or gesture of insincerity, but he couldn’t see it, or perhaps his foolish heart had convinced him once more, deceiving him into making him believe she was his.

“Then why are you upset?” her hands let go of the chair, reaching for his, but he pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the chair as he stared up at her, “Falling behind? What do you mean by that, was this all a race or competition where you were trying to win him ba-

“Choose your words carefully Mr.Choi.” she cut him off, words seething with anger.

“Because they’re true?” coking his head to the side he noticed the way her hands were fisted at her sides, nails digging into her palms, “Tell me.”

“I…” letting out a shaky breath she looked at her shoes, no longer having the confidence to look at his face, “I couldn’t let him…I didn’t know what he was…going to say…I can’t lose you; I didn’t want to…he came to apologise…nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t want you to meet someone who never saw me the way you see me, what if you realised…that it wasn’t worth it anymore more…that it was a waste of time.” Walking over to the chair at the other end of the table she sat down, eyeing all his paperwork, “I…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I can’t hold you back just because I’m left behind all the time.”

He watched her intently, listening to each word, slowly realising what she meant, but he also came to another realisation, they were still walking on eggshells, especially around each other, choosing not to show their greys to each other, choosing to leave out the bad parts of the story, the poorly written scenes and the abrupt jump cuts, yet, this form of false perfection was what was making it worse for them, worse for him, especially when he knew that he no longer liked her. He no longer felt the same attraction- he felt more.

He was in love with her.

Turning to face her, he took a deep breath, his hands on the table, slowly reaching over to hold hers, his thumbs running soothing circles over her hands, “I…I was…I…I don’t want you to leave me too. Before you, there was someone else.” He felt her go tense under his words, his eyes flickered to hers, noticing the settling anxiety, before he gave her a gentle smile, “Was…don’t worry, she didn’t want my heart anymore and I…I guess I didn’t want to give it to anyone anymore either. Until you came along, crying outside because you lost the key to your own apartment…I swear I was going to ignore you and leave, but…” Letting out a dry chuckle he glanced at the clock, she often did come by when it was lunch, maybe he’d take her somewhere special today, far from the office and the café, “I couldn’t, and I don’t know how…maybe because you were so patient with me, maybe I saw myself in you, I wanted to make sure you had someone to help you whenever you’d fall…but I was also scared that if I gave you my heart, you’d give it back and…f*ck Yeosang was right.” He sighed, giving up on where this was going, trying to pull his hands back but her grip tightened, causing him to look at her in surprise.

“He was…but I like it…I like that you’re a romantic, Sannie.” She smiled lacing their fingers together, “I won’t force you…but I need you to understand that I…I fell in love with you the day you unlocked my door for me… I just waited for the day you’d return the feelings…so yeah, I’ll confess, that I’ve loved you from the start.”

His eyes widened at the confession, face turning pink at the realisation, this must be love. The feeling that was brewing inside of him, ready to burst, this must be love. His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, he wanted to run to her and pull her close, almost engulfing her whole being, but his legs felt like jelly, this must be love. Though he didn’t need to get up, because she had come to him, smiling down at him as she cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, he looked up at her through hooded eyes, enjoying the warmth, welcoming this nostalgic sensation, this must be love.

“I love you.” He whispered, hands gripping her waist, fingers digging into her, holding onto her as if he were afraid, she’d disappear.

“It’s about time you realise.” Letting out a chuckle she leaned closer, brushing her lips over hers, about to say something when they heard a static sniff followed by a sob, both of them freezing in act.

“Mingi…how long have you been there for?”

“I forgot to tell you your mic was on…sir.”

“Couple’s activities?” he mumbled, staring up from his book, his reading glasses at the tip of his nose as his girlfriend at the edge of the bed, legs crossed with a magazine in her lap, successfully stealing yet another one of his hoodies. The glow of the lamp illuminated her innocent features, though he knew behind those sparkly eyes hid some agenda that he would soon regret, even though he loved her with all his heart, he had realised long before that being an only child meant that her parents had always kept her busy, books, movies, school, other activities, even got her a Jongho- now that Jongho had completely passed her onto him, it was his job to entertain his princess in the late hours of the night.

“So…like se-

“No, you pervert- my God, all men are the same.” She huffed picking up the magazine to show him the list on the glossy, extremely bright coloured paper, the glare of the lamp just making it more difficult for him to read, “That’s a long list- I’m not going skydiving- YOU AREN’T either.”

“Sheesh, fine, but we can try cutting your hair.”

His hand instinctively went to his luxurious onyx locks, he liked his hair the way it was, and he knew she did too, from how she’d run her fingers through it when they’d be lazing around, from how she’d play with his hair when he’d lay on her lap for a little nap, from how she’d tug and pull on it when they’d be…

“Just a trim!” she broke his chain of thoughts, crawling to him and slapping the magazine on his lap, “You said you needed a trim! And- and it’ll be free!” she smiled, giving him the cutest face she could muster, though he stared back at unamused.

“No.”

“I- but- Sannie,” whining she pointed at the small text, “It’s so intimate and it’s- it’s all about trust.” Grabbing his arm she shook him violently, he almost missed the early stages of their relationship, where she was still shy and nervous around him, now she’d gained the confidence to be bratty around him, even demanding they sleep at his place because ‘You have a bigger bathtub’, incorrect, he didn’t but maybe she just liked using his shampoo- not that he’d mind, he preferred her smelling like she belonged to him, his scent carrying around her.

“How about a free massage as well?”

"There. All done." He finally opened his eyes to stare at his reflection in the mirror, confused at first, then angered, then even a bit humoured, "Um...what do u think is different with this and my usual haircut?" It was his fault, it really was, he agreed to this nonsense and now…he even fell asleep when she was working on his shoulders, but that was before she cut- no chopped off his beautiful locks.

"I... I mean it's a bit different Sannie but I-" she tried to clarify, smoothening it down, only to flatten it and…perhaps make it a bit worse, see, the thing was, during her little barber role-play, she had realised she’d trimmed a bit too much on one side, so she had to even it out and that led to umm…well

'I look like a POTATO!" her glared at her through the mirror, face red with embarrassment.

"NOOO! U don’t" whining she leaned closer to peck his cheek but he pulled away, whipping his head in her direction to glare at her, then looked at his hair through the mirror again, hands going to pull on the short hair, it was so…short, "Please, I love you, I know you said haircutting is a couple's activity but- babe I"

Hearing a sniff, he stopped staring up at her reflection, he didn't mean for her to cry, but the way she was biting her lower lip tugged at his heart. "I-"

Before he could start a giggle escaped her and he stopped, glaring at her, his face blank like the first time they met, "Ma’am, is something funny?"

"No....Mr.Potato head"

“Good morning Mr.Choi - what's up with this cap" Mingi looked at his boss who zoomed past him into the office, tugging on his baseball cap, slamming the door behind him as he yelled.

"Nothing Mingi, whatever happens, DO NOT let Yeosang in my office today"

"He's already there, sir."

Frowning San turned to meet eyes with a familiar brunette, his chin in his palm as he sat on San’s seat, a little smirk ever so present as he eyed the taller man, all dressed up in a nice suit, the only thing odd about him was the smudged lipstick on his jaw, which he probably didn’t even know was there and the baseball cap.

"Your girlfriend dropped you off huh? Car trouble again?'" Yeosang asked, before pointing at his jaw, “You also got a little something there Mr.Choi, guess the black waistcoat is a fan favourite, huh?”

San quickly made his way to his desk, grabbing the chair the other man was on and rolling it away from his monitor, mumbling as he grabbed a few tissues to wipe off the lipstick, he couldn’t even be mad at her because it was his idea to follow couple’s activity #43 ‘Wear a lipstick shade your partner likes’, apparently, he liked it a bit too much.

After that little entrance, they’d been sitting peacefully, with San working away and Yeosang…well he was just wasting time as usual, though at least he had yet to ask the question.

“So, what’s with the cap”, Yeosang asked as he made an intricate paper plane with another one of San's documents, they were going in the shredder anyway.

The other man, pouted for a split second before clearing his throat, "My head feels cold." continuing typing like he didn't care.

"I see." Yeosang eyed him before throwing the plane at him, watching the pointy nib smack against the man's cap, earning a glare, "So, will you bring her as your plus one to this annual fundraiser? Has she cleared all your tests? Check marks all your boxes of requirements of a partner?"

Sighing he leaned back at the thought, did she? Was she the ideal partner he asked for? Sure, she was somewhat clumsy and bratty, but then again, he wasn't the best either, he was whiney and slow-witted at times but with what they two had been through, how much they had grown, how much she had grown, of course she'd been the one, he had come to this realization when he saw her waiting outside for him in the rain, 'worried about him'.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said eying the man who was too lost in thought as he got up to leave, "By the way she was wrong."

"Hmm?" he frowned at his friend who was dusting off his clothes, "You don't look cute, you do look like Mr Potato head".

“San, I swear upon your Benz, if you turn off the heater, I’ll key your car.” She shivered, pulling another blanket over them as he pushed it off, trying to reach over her for the remote of the heater only to slap his hand away, “YAH CHOI SAN”

“ITS HOT! AND STUFFY! I’M SWEATING LOOK!” he lifted his sweatshirt for- honestly, she really forgot what his point was, a bit too distracted for her own good before he huffed and took it off completely, flinging it across the room, giving her all the blankets and laying on his back, “It’s barely even winter, and look at you. I said don’t go playing in the snow, you can barely withstand a cool breeze, you thought the snow was gonna go easy on you? You’re just like Wooyoung, both of you are the same with the snow and winter.”

“Well, not everyone has the body temperature of an old, grumpy cat, Sannie.” She huffed, scooting closer to him, trying to steal his body heat, the fabric of the quilt making his skin burn.

“OLD?”

“Well, I did call you Mr.Choi out of respect too, I thought you were wayyyyyyyyyyy older than me.” Turning his head on the pillow to look at her, he made a face, rolling his eyes at the innocent smile she gave him, the tip of her nose still pink, shrugging at him. Sighing he moved closer to her, much to her pleasure.

“Take off your pants.”

“You really are an old pervert-

“Couple’s activity #136, you genius.” He huffed manoeuvring so he was under the blankets with her.

“I refuse to accept we’ve done so many.”

“We haven’t, I tore out some pages because I was not going to do couple’s yoga on the balcony.”

“Ah…I see. Anyway, still not going to take off my pants because you’re a bit needy.” She sighed, when he pulled her closer, his body heat helping her shivering body calm down.

“Well, aren’t you just an innocent peach, activity 136 says sharing body warmth is important and intimate, you can use me as a human heater and I can use you like a cooling pack.” He said tugging at the band of her pants, helping her out of them, sighing when he felt her cold legs on his warm ones, making the blanket a bit more bearable.

“Who knew Sannie was so thoughtful.” She purred, nuzzling her face in his neck, earning a huff, his arms tightening around her, squeezing her until she let out an airy laugh in protest.

“I am very thoughtful.” He sighed, feeling her relax against him.

“That you are…Mr.Potato head.”

Huffing out in both frustration and bliss she stared up at the ceiling, the warm mood lights in her room, feeling him flopping down beside her, the bed trembling at the act.

“Tub’s filling up. You’re also out of bath bombs”

“Your tub is bigger- how many did you use this time?”

“No. It is not…. around four” He sighed laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling with her, his hands reaching for hers, knuckles brushing against hers before she slowly tangled their fingers together, “Thank you for taking me to your event tonight…I really liked it.”

“Thank you for being my plus one.” He smiled, thinking back to how when anyone and everyone there would ask him who she was he’d introduce her as his girlfriend, the love of his life, someone he potentially wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“Though I believe making sure I can’t walk tomorrow is going to be a problem for me at work.”

“Couple’s activity #159.”

“Did it specify tearing my favourite dress?”

“No, but the San in the mirror who used to have nice hair told me to.”

Two years, she had been together with this man for two very happy years, yet he still could confuse her every time he asked her something very important, such as now, right in her café, well, technically she was in the storage closet, counting and restocking when he walked in unannounced.

“Umm…is there no one there to take your order, Sannie?” she asked, looking up at him, using a carton as a makeshift seat, clipboard in her lap, she didn’t even want to do it, but once again, she had lost an epic battle of rock paper scissors from not only Jongho, but Wooyoung as well. The man above her frowned before shaking his head, ever so quiet.

“Okay…was there no one to stop you from coming back here- in an employee-only area.” She asked as he shook his head again, before sitting down beside her on the floor legs crossed, now with the different of elevation, looking up at her with a frown.

“Okay…do you…want to say something?”

“What’s your five-year plan?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves before looking at her, his hands on his knees, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Ummm…well…what does that mean?” she asked, finally giving up on inventory to get on the floor with him, facing him, sitting in a similar position as she looked at him, noticing how he had closed the storage room door after entering, he needed privacy, so this was an important question to him.

“Where do you see yourself in Five years?”

Oh.

Her eyes widened at the question, throat drying up as she looked at anything but his face, he looked so serious, so focused, like what he had asked her was just like a business deal, well, maybe it was- but that wasn’t all it was, she knew what he meant, she knew he’d have his moments of self-doubt, he’d have moments where the crippling anxiety of having his heart smashed into pieces once more had him awake at night, he’d have his moments where he’d begin to fall, having nothing to hold onto- only this time, he had her.

“I see myself as a Mrs.Choi.”

His ears picked up the all-too-familiar name, his lips quirking up at the mention of his name, blushing like a school girl he almost squealed, leaning over to grab her hands and pull her closer, only his lack of judgement of strength had him pulling her onto his lap- or maybe that is what he wanted to do all along. All she knew was that she was merely inches away from him, his small dimpled smile gracing her with all its glory, “I think I see that too.”

“Yeah?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap properly, “You see me as a Mrs.Choi?”

“No.” he smiled, locking his arms behind her waist as he noticed her small pout in confusion, pulling her even closer, until the tips of their noses bumped at the sudden jerk, “I see myself as your Mr.Choi.” His dimples deepened when she gasped, before closing the gap between them, leaving small pecks all over his face, leaving him a flustered, blushing mess as she smothered him with all the love that he had closed himself off to, all the love that was taken from him when his heart was tossed back at him, all the love she had in her that was never meant for anyone else other than him, all the love the two planned to share, for as long as they could, hoping it could bloom into something more beautiful one day.

“And I think I see you two getting out of my storage closet before I call the cops.”

Taglist : @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie

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blogport · 2 months

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EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

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macfrog · 1 year

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ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ��n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

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popamolly · 5 months

Text

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL!’ ALASTOR

summary. You meet an unexpected guest who gives advice that leaves her feeling uneasy and doubtful. After an intimate night with Alastor, you wake up alone in your room with memories of the night lingering. The following morning, your mother brings up the events of the previous night, potentially addressing the aftermath of your choices and feelings.

PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), not a happy ending, 18+

The tension of the interrogation still hung in the air like a heavy fog, refusing to dissipate even as Alastor made his offer to fetch you a drink. You watched him move through the room, his confident stride belying the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

As some guests timidly spoke to one another in hushed voices, others—emboldened by a few drinks—had taken to the dance floor, their laughter and the rhythmic music creating a stark contrast to the atmosphere you found herself in. Alone for a few moments, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander, each one like a thread leading back to your suspicions of Alastor.

Your mind drifted to Mr. Ray. He had always been more than just a chauffeur; he was a confidant, a protector, and someone who genuinely had your best interests at heart. His words about the rumors swirling around Alastor echoed in your mind, each syllable weighted with a sense of foreboding.

The timing of the conversation and Mr.Ray's disappearance, sent a shiver down your spine. Was it all just simply a coincidence? Irony? It was as if Mr. Ray's warnings had been a premonition, a stark reminder of how quickly things could unravel.

You recalled his earnest expression, the concern etched in every line of his face as he cautioned you about chasing after someone like Alastor. "He's not what he seems," Mr. Ray had said, his voice a mixture of worry.

Despite your determination to uncover the truth, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that Mr. Ray's words had stirred within you. Was Alastor truly the enigmatic figure he presented himself to be, or was there a darker truth hidden beneath his prince-like facade?

You had no concrete evidence to support your doubts, only a nagging feeling that something was amiss. Alastor had always been charming, his words smooth as silk and his demeanor unflappable. But beneath that polished exterior, you couldn't shake the feeling that there were secrets lurking, waiting to be uncovered.

As you sipped on your drink that Alastor had brought over for you seconds before, your eyes followed Alastor as he engaged in polite conversation with another guest, his smile never falling. It was moments like these that made you question yourself, wondering if you were simply being paranoid.

You love him, and you were sure he returned your feelings so you knew his heart, but his mind? His mind was something else entirely. You rarely noticed before but you realized that ever since the first time you met on that fateful night that his mind was heavily guarded, shrouded in mystery, that made him all the more alluring to you. He was hard to read and for awhile you dismissed it as a simple man protecting himself, but from who? From what? The man you loved was unpredictable and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Strange, isn't it?" A woman's voice nearly startles you, "How our men can suddenly walk into a sea of sharks without a care in the world."

The woman's sudden appearance caught you off guard but you managed to face her with a polite smile. "Indeed, it is quite strange," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of curiosity. The woman's tall, slender figure and perfect demeanor made her stand out in the crowd.

"It's as if they're oblivious to the dangers lurking beneath the surface," the woman continued, her eyes scanning the room with a knowing look before following your gaze toward Alastor and another man that seemed to be at his side. "But then again, perhaps they enjoy the thrill of suspense, an excitement for navigating treacherous waters."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with the woman's words, as if you both shared a common understanding of the complexities of human nature, especially when it came to the allure of danger. "Some men do seem drawn to challenges," you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to your champagne glass, "I take it your husband has met my...companion?"

"It seems," The woman's warm smile remained unchanged, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Enlighten me, would you? Tell me, how do you navigate these treacherous waters, my dear?" She asked, her tone playful yet discerning.

With a thoughtful expression, you replied, "Carefully, I suppose."

The woman nodded. "A wise approach indeed. In a world filled with predators, it's important to know when to tread lightly and when to assert yourself."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask for your name," You tilt your head expectantly, realizing that you haven't seen her at any previous parties before.

"Rosemary," The woman grins from ear to ear, her slender fingers almost cradling the wine glass in her hand, "Though I prefer Rosie."

"(Y/N) Duvalier, though I suppose you already knew that," you said, nodding your head to her in acknowledgment. "A pleasure to meet you, Rosie."

Rosie's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Likewise," she replied, her voice carrying a melodious tone. "I must compliment you, you seem to navigate these waters with grace and poise."

A faint blush touched your cheeks at the compliment. "Thank you. I've had my fair share of practice."

"Ah, experience is a valuable teacher," Rosie remarked, her gaze drifting momentarily toward the dance floor where couples twirled to the music. "It teaches us who to trust and who to watch out for."

The weight of Rosie's words resonated with you, reminding you once again of the cautionary advice Mr. Ray had imparted. "Indeed," you agreed, your thoughts briefly returning to the enigmatic Alastor and the mysteries that surrounded him.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, Rosie offered a reassuring smile. "Well, my dear, I won't keep you any longer," she said, gesturing toward the bustling party around them. "But do be cautious, sometimes the most dangerous sharks wear the most charming smiles."

With a nod of understanding, you replied, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Rosie."

They exchanged a final smile before parting ways, leaving you with a newfound sense of vigilance mingled with curiosity about the woman named Rosie and the wisdom she seemed to possess. As she left to mingle with the guests, your thoughts lingered on their conversation, each word a reminder of the delicate balance between trust and suspicion in a world where appearances could be deceiving.

"Darling?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, and you met his gaze, physically startled by his sudden appearance, a reaction he noticed. "Did I scare you? You seem rather jumpy, my dear."

"No, no," you replied quickly, masking your discomfort with a smile as you took another sip of champagne, hoping it would calm your nerves. "I'm just a bit tense from the police questioning me earlier."

"Understandable," Alastor acknowledged, though he could sense your lie. "It's unsettling to think the Bayou Killer could be near, possibly someone you're close to."

You couldn't pinpoint why you felt uneasy around Alastor now, considering he had seen you at your best and worst, most vulnerable moments. Your heart urged you to trust him with your life and future, yet your head was clouded with doubt and suspicion, fueled by a gut feeling— or intuition.

"You think the killer could be someone I know?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a plausible scenario, isn't it? Reminds me of an enticing thriller novel!" Alastor remarked with a grin.

"It's not a joking matter," you replied, your grip tightening around the glass slightly. "That doesn't ease my mind, Alastor."

"Then perhaps I can ease your mind in other ways, mon chère," Alastor's voice was close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at the suggestive tone. All worries faded momentarily as his gaze and voice drew you in, like putty in his hands.

"I couldn't possibly…" You averted your gaze, visibly flustered as if it were your first time experiencing such a situation with him, "My mother—"

He had a knack for manipulating you effortlessly, leading you to succumb to your deepest forbidden desires. Doubts that once troubled you seemed to vanish without a trace.

"Is distracted by the delightful guests; we could slip away for an hour… or perhaps two," Alastor's hand lingered just below your waist, aware of his influence over you, knowing that he could entice your mind with intense pleasure, even though he didn't particularly care for sex. If he could divert your attention, perhaps you would forget your concerns altogether. There was a part of him that held genuine interest in you, prompting him to keep you on the edge, "Indulge me, won't you?"

Your body responded instinctively, surrendering to Alastor's advances as soon as you both slipped away from the bustling party to the seclusion of your room. He was right; with your mother preoccupied and the lively band drowning out any potential eavesdroppers, it was an ideal opportunity to indulge in your desires. It was quite embarrassing how you gave into the temptation so easily but at the sensation of Alastor's warm tongue tracing along the sensitive curves of your neck erased any lingering hesitations.

You gasp the moment your back hits the door, fingers tangling themselves in his Alastor's brown hair to tug at the strands as he makes his way lower, and lower until he is on his knees in front of you, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he orders you to, "lift your dress."

Being obedient, you do as your told, not sparing a second before bunching the soft fabric in your hands to pull your dress up, exposing yourself to him completely. Alastor raises an eyebrow at the sight of your bare womanhood, glancing up at you for an explanantion. "No underwear? Did you, perhaps anticipate this?" He teasingly runs his hand up your inner thigh, allowing his fingers to tease at your already wet folds that seemed to drip with arousal, "how naughty of you, my dear."

"You said you were coming to the party.." You flushed under his intense gaze, "I just..." Your words fell flat, embarrassment coursing through you that was clearly washed away with pleasure once you felt Alastor drag the flat of his tongue against your clit. A shiver goes down your spine and Alastor puts one of your legs over his shoulder so you wouldn’t fall.

Your lips were parted as Alastor sucks and teases your clit, alternating between lapping at your folds and giving your clit the much needed attention it deserved.

"Alastor—! Mm!" Your moans were loud and unashamed, bouncing off the walls of the room as you moved your hips in a desperate need to chase your release. Alastor groaned against your cunt, looking up at you to watch your face contort in pleasure as he lets you take control. Not a moment later your hips were stuttering as you came onto his tongue, your upper body slumping forward, “Ah!"

Alastor let you use his tongue to ride out your high before pulling away, a string of his saliva and your arousal still connecting him to your dripping pussy.

In one swift movement he was on you again, this time tossing you onto your bed and forcing you onto you knees in front of him. There was something animalistic in his gaze that you couldn't tear away from as you gripped his thighs, your fingertips fiddling with the hem of his pants, "Can I?"

Alsstor chuckles as he stands before you, his hand slowly unfastening his belt until he was free of it. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his hard cock from its fabric cage. It sprung out dangerously close to your mouth and you couldn't help but nearly drool at the sight. Never once have you pleasured Alastor in the way he pleasured you and today, tonight, you felt confident in returning the favor to spice things up a bit. Whether it was the drinks you had in your system or a new found confidence, you just wanted nothing more than to make him feel good.

"How good you look on your knees," Alastor comments, twirling a strand of your hair around his index finger with a smile, "you're going to use that pretty mouth of yours on me?"

"Yes," You were breathless, "Please, Alastor, can I?"

"Hmm," He playfully hums the thought as he takes hold of his cock to drag it across your lips, using the wetness to lubricate himself, "Can you?"

You nod.

"Then open your mouth."

You hesitantly opened your mouth, slowly taking his swollen tip into your mouth. Your soft tongue swirling around his slit gingerly before you closed your mouth around it, hallowing your cheeks as you began to suck. Alastor let out a blissful sigh, looking down at you with a smirk that made you unsure if you were doing a good job or not.

"Deeper." Alastor had his hand on the back of your neck to push your head further down his length. His thick cock throbbed inside your mouth as you worked your head up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock in a way that had Alastor groaning in pleasure, "Good girl."

Alastor locked his fingers in your hair, thrusting forward suddenly to push his cock deeper down your throat. You let out a choking sound, saliva dripping down your chin and onto the mounds of your breast as he continued to fuck your face. The mascara you had on ran down your cheeks, further painting you as the sinful masterpiece you were.

You didn't know how long Alastor was using your mouth as his personal fuck toy but it was truly a sight for sore eyes. The man above you was crumbling, slowly succumbing to the pleasures of your mouth as a string of curses passed his lips. It was so beautiful in a sense— seeing his defenses down ever so slightly to the point where you could finally seem to see through him. You had to rub your thighs together to get some sort of friction happening because you were wet at just the sight of him.

Without warning Alastor's cum filled your mouth and you struggled to swallow his huge load due to your aching jaw. Your lungs were on fire but you braved through it, the semen you didn't swallow ultimately going down your chin and mixing with your own saliva, dripping onto the wooden floor.

"I love you," you gasp, the words tumbling out as you try to catch your breath.

"In heaven and in hell, my dear," Alastor whispers, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "You're mine forever."

The air around you seems to shimmer with the intensity of his words, his love wrapping around you like a warm embrace. In his eyes, you see a depth of devotion that transcends time and space, a promise of eternal connection and unwavering loyalty.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, reaching out instinctively for Alastor's comforting presence beside you. However, your hand met nothing but cool sheets, sending a jolt of realization through your sleepy haze.

Your eyes fluttered open, searching the room for any sign of him. The bed, once filled with your shared warmth, now felt cold and empty. You remembered the events of the previous night—Alastor's whispered words of love, the tenderness in his touch, and then, his sudden departure in the dead of night.

Heart pounding, you sat up, wrapping the sheets around yourself as you scanned the room, hoping to find him there. But the room was silent, save for the soft rustle of curtains in the morning breeze. Begrudgingly, you swung your legs over the bed to get your day started, rummaging through your closets for something to wear.

A soft knock interrupted your dressing routine, prompting you to don just a simple gown and drape yourself in a feathered robe before answering. "Breakfast is ready, ma'am," a maid's voice called out, followed by the faint sound of her retreating footsteps down the hallway. You let out a sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the inevitable tense morning ahead with your Mother.

Descending the stairs, you entered the small breakfast room where your mother sat. Her gaze remained fixed on the morning newspaper, not bothering to acknowledge your presence as you took a seat and thanked the maid who poured you a cup of hot coffee.

The oppressive silence hung heavy as you ate, the tension palpable. It was evident that your mother was displeased, resorting to the cold shoulder treatment. You felt like you were tiptoeing on thin ice, afraid of triggering her anger with even the slightest misstep. As you nibbled on your toast, her words finally pierced the quiet air.

"’The Duvalier family questioned in the recent disappearance case, are they suspects now’?" she read aloud from the newspaper, her tone chilly as she took a sip of her own coffee.

"They don't waste any time," you quipped lightly, but your attempt at humor fell flat in the icy atmosphere.

"Is this amusing to you?" Her reprimand cut through the tension, devoid of any hint of amusement, "Funny?"

"Not at all," you replied calmly, though the practiced tone belied the turmoil within. "I realize how this affects our reputation, but we need to be looking at the bigger picture. Mr. Ray's disappearance is concerning. I figured you’d be quick in wanting to find an answer, considering Mr.Ray’s years of loyal service to this house."

"And yet suspicion falls on you," your mother retorted sharply, tossing the newspaper onto the table as her gaze met yours with equal intensity. "My own daughter, questioned under my own roof, in front of esteemed guests. How will we recover from this?"

"Is that all you're worried about?" you countered.

"What were you doing with Mr. Ray that night?" Your mother brushed aside your question, her tone demanding.

You let out a bitter laugh. "Do you truly believe I'm capable of something sinister?"

"I believe you're capable of naivety," she replied bluntly. "Now, tell me."

After a moment's hesitation, you relented. There was no use in concealing the truth when there were no secrets left to keep.

"I asked him to accompany me," you murmured, "To find Alastor."

"To find Alastor," your mother echoed with a touch of scorn, the sight of the hickies on your neck making her eye twitch with distaste. "Ever since he entered your life, you seem to attract nothing but trouble."

Your mother's words stung, the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you. "It's not like that," you insisted, the words sounding feeble even to your own ears. "Alastor is… different."

"Different, yes," your mother says, her expression hard. "He's a danger you don't seem to comprehend."

"I know what I'm doing," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Do you?" Her gaze bore into yours, searching for any sign of wavering resolve.

"Yes," you replied firmly, though uncertainty gnawed at you from within. You loved Alastor, yes, but even still he seems to be so out of reach from you. Out of reach from reality at times.

As your mother received an envelope from a maid on a silver platter, you picked at your food, your thoughts swirling with the weight of the morning's conversation. She opened the white envelope with a butter knife, her expression turning thoughtful as she read the contents of the letter. "It seems we've been invited to witness the final alligator hunt of the season," she remarked, her tone still tinged with the earlier tension. "Your uncle requests our presence in the early afternoon."

"Are you seriously considering going? That doesn't sound very proper," you teased lightly, hoping to ease the lingering strain between you and your mother. Her light laughter was a welcome sound, a fleeting moment of relief amidst the turmoil that had defined your interactions lately. You cherished the rare moments of levity between you two, reminders of the bond you desperately wanted to mend.

"No, it's not particularly ladylike," she admitted with a smile, the remnants of her earlier anger dissipating. "But maybe we all need to shoot something."

You watched as she left the room, her smile fading into a neutral expression. "Dress your best," she called back to you, her words a reminder of the importance of appearances in their social circle. "We must show that we are unaffected by these recent events."

Alone at the table, you released a deep sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily on your shoulders. Between navigating your mother's expectations and the complexities of your relationship with Alastor, you felt like you were standing on shaky ground, unsure if you could find your balance again. Yet, amid the challenges, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could improve, if only you could tread carefully enough.

── ꒰ ‧˚ author’s note ｡˚ ꒱ don't yell at me ya'll! i know i took a much needed break due to personal matters but i am back on track so i will try my best to update this story every weekend moving forward, if not then know that I will try my best to push out an ACCEPTABLE chapter as soon as i can. i rather take my time with this story instead of rushing to publish a chapter, i hope you all understand. in other words, thank you for the constant love and support, i read ALL your comments and appreciate them!

should i make a separate master list for this story? i feel like the chapters will be easier to find and more organized if I did that, what do you all think?

── ꒰ ‧˚ taglist ｡˚ ꒱

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@lemonyboy97 @http-dilflvr @zibbswolf @veenishk

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

#𖤐popamolly #hazbin hotel fiction #hazbin hotel #𖤐popamollyposts #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #smut #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction

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louis-sj · 4 months

Text

Florida Prison Blues

The "good" guys (swat_studios and hunter_chase_23 on X) catch the bad guy (Bondage_inmate on X) with contraband. Can they force him to snitch? It looks like some rules are being bent and broken by the guards.

Tucked away in abandoned wing of a Florida prison. Handcuffed to a steel pole, leg irons.

A combat boot in the crotch. No blood, bruises, or trauma showing -- yet. The polished concrete floor will be easy to clean.

Gagged with a black leather glove. Only the two corrupt officers could hear anyway.

How much nutraloaf, skipped meals, and beatings will it take before the prisoner reveals the source of the contraband? The guards have plenty of time, the prisoner isn't going anywhere.

How long will Bondage_inmate last?

ps: The Florida prison is quite real. No AI creation here.

#boots #combat boots #prison #Florida prison blues uniform #hand gag #leg irons #handcuffs #isolation #capture hood #corrupt prison officers #snitch?#hunger #orange slides #white stripe blue prison pants

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itiswormtimebaby · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Dark Mafia!Bucky x fem reader CW: DARK. dom Bucky, sub reader, not safe or sane, slut shaming, degradation, implied violence (against omc), boot stuff/licking, dubcon (to be safe), implied voyeurism

“You let him in my pussy?”

Prostrated in front of him you don’t dare lift your head from its position- forehead pressed into the cold concrete floor between your spread arms. Bucky circles around behind your prone form, kicking your legs further wide, knees skittering painfully across the rough surface. “Answer me.” His voice is as lethal as the gun on his hip.

“N-no.” Your voice is weak in the presence of his ire, any good time feeling you’d had earlier in the night has gone cold, as cold as the arousal drying on your puffy lower lips. An undignified yelp escapes you unbidden as the toe of one of his expensive leather boots settles against your cunt, swiping across it before he moves to stand in front of you. At his command you lift your head up, allowing him to slide the offending object into your line of vision, your slick marring its otherwise pristine polish; “Then why are you so god-damn wet?” You shake your head weakly, knowing there was no correct answer, he wouldn’t believe a placating lie no matter how sweetly delivered and the truth would only-

“Clean it up.” Tearfully you begin to kitten lick across the soiled surface, ashamed at the fresh wave of arousal that the action insights within you, knowing any seconds you’d be leaking all over the floor. You vaguely wonder with a filthy thrill if he’d have you clean that as well. He doesn’t speak again until he is satisfied with your work; “Assume the position.” Like a puppet on a string your body jerks into place, legs folding under you until you are on your knees, bare ass cheeks pressed into the heels of your feet, hands limp against your thighs, neck bent.

“Don’t make me ask again. Speak.”

“He…he touched me.”

A fresh wave of slick gushes from your neglected opening as you revel in the fear, the shame, the desperate desire that being pinned under Bucky’s gaze is causing you.

“He got you wet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“He touched my pussy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“How many fingers?”

“SIR!”

Bucky scowls at your tone, at your audacity, he gives you everything and you think he’d be okay with you going on dates? On letting someone besides him touch you?

“Fine,” He grits out between clenched teeth, “You don’t want to tell me?”

The room is deathly quiet aside from soft schlick of your thighs rubbing together, you can’t tell what he’s doing and won’t risk looking around to try and figure it out. It doesn’t matter, the answer becomes clear soon enough. “Steve?” The muffled voice of his right hand man alerts you to the fact that he’s on the phone, “Break all ten.”

Fingers, you realize, he’s talking about your dates fingers.

“Then bring him in.”

Terror, arousal, shame, regret- it burst forth from your body in the form of tears.

Bucky crouches down so your eye level, calloused fingers gathering the salty droplets and sucking them into your mouth; “You want to act like a whore, Doll? Then I’ll fuck you like one. That sorry son of a bitch is going to see exactly who owns this pussy, and if you ever so much as breathe in his direction again I won’t just break his fingers, I’ll take both fucking hands.”

#dark bucky barnes #dark mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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spooky-holtz · 9 months

Text

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff (possibly alludes to smut at one point? If you squint?)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I know Christmas was almost two weeks ago but this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. So enjoy, even if my timing is a little off :)

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December. Quite easily the best and worst month of the school year. As another calendar year winds down, so do rigorous lesson plans, with most teachers at Abbott choosing to give in to the growing excitement among the students as the holidays draw nearer.

Less time is spent actually teaching and a lot of allocated lesson time is spent watching movies on huge, outdated TV screens, students gathered around the devices on Eagles rugs that were so generously ‘donated’ by Melissa earlier that year.

As the month goes on you find yourself spending more time inside your classroom, herding the group of preteens that make up the school choir as successfully as you would herd cats. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful few weeks of carol singing and rehearsals, trying to convince a group of kids that it’s not ‘lame’ or ‘cringe’ to appreciate music the way you do.

As the resident music teacher at Abbott Elementary, you find it incredibly difficult to get young people inspired in the way you so desperately want them to be, often having to let go of the talent you see among some aspiring young musicians for reasons outside of your control. Though the budget doesn’t stretch to allow much in the way of extracurricular activities, choir practice is the one activity where you have your greatest tool already at your disposal; your voice.

As much as you adore these kids, getting them to concentrate after a full day of learning is no easy feat, with them often choosing to sit around in groups gossiping or scrolling on Tik Tok rather than join you around the old piano that stands in place of a desk in your classroom, where you sit on your creaky stool, waiting for them to join in with you.

After a particularly difficult lunchtime choir practice in the middle of December, you find your feet carrying you to the sanctuary you often retreat to during your breaks: the teachers’ lounge. You trudge along the hallway, the heels of your sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete floor as you struggle to find the motivation to get you there, dragging your feet along the floor.

As your hand wraps around the handle and you pull the door toward you, you’re instantly engulfed with the scent of burnt coffee and the sound of chatter as the little groups that sit around the room carry on their conversations, entirely too distracted to notice the door opening.

Jim Gardner addresses the room from the small TV that sits on the opposite end, his newscast largely going unnoticed by the audience as they munch on leftovers or pore over today's newspaper. Much like Jim, your entry into the room goes unnoticed save for a pair of emerald eyes that you can’t help but glance toward.

Melissa is already looking back at you over the rim of her glasses, phone in hand, the slight frown on her features already telling you that she’s noticed the lack of energy you carry. You can’t help but be drawn toward her, almost as if being pulled in by an imaginary force. She’s already pulled the empty chair by her side out by the time you reach her, and you collapse down on to it, sighing heavily, leaning your elbows forward onto the cold surface of the table in front of you for support.

“Choir practice really that bad today, huh?” she asks, sympathy laced across her face.

“I swear, these kids are turning me grey even faster,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cradle your forehead, “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to get through ‘Silent Night’ without laughing at the word ‘virgin’?”

The silence that comes from the redhead is deafening as you turn your head slightly in your hands to catch a glimpse of her expression. Her lips are pursed slightly, and her eyes are a little too focused on your hair, doing everything she can to avoid eye contact; a telltale sign that she’s fighting back a laugh. When she finally reaches enough composure to meet your eye line, she can’t help but snicker.

The sound makes you take your head out of your hands and throw her the most unimpressed look you can muster, though it’s a halfhearted glare.

“I’m sorry,” she begins to apologize, “but that word was probably the funniest thing ever when I was that age too. Cut them a little bit of slack.”

Great, so not only do your students think you’re a ‘nerd’ for making them sing carols but Melissa does too. Because having the woman you have an enormous crush on think that is exactly what you needed to round out your year. Almost as if she can sense your descent into overthinking, Melissa breaks the silence.

“Hey, I’m just messing with ya,” she says. She reaches forward, pulling you out of your spiral, and rests her hand on the thigh that sits closest to you, patting gently. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

Your eyes dart to hers at the comment and you’re met with a wink. The simple move turns you into putty, melting you to bend to her will. Her hand burns through the material of your slacks where it still lays against your thigh, her thumb rubbing gentle circles in an effort to soothe you. You’re sure your face is matching that same level of heat that radiates from it.

She smiles back softly before turning back to her phone, leaving her hand resting against the patterned material you wear. The contact grounds you and helps you to think a little more rationally. While she’s distracted on her phone, you reach forward onto the table to grab Melissa’s worn Stanley Tucci mug and steal a swig of the steaming black coffee that sits within. The harsh flavor makes you wince, with you preferring your coffee with milk and an obscene amount of sugar to make it even barely drinkable. The expression you wear causes Melissa to giggle, the redhead having looked up almost knowing that your face would be a picture of extreme disgust.

As she laughs the hand on your thigh squeezes and she leans into you, the lines around her eyes accentuated by the deep laugh that’s taken over her being. You decide that this is the most beautiful version of Melissa you’ve ever seen. Carefree, happy, and relaxed.

The moment comes to an abrupt end as Barbara enters the room, both you and Melissa turning to the creaking door as it opens. Her eyes naturally fall to your table, much as your own do when you enter the teachers’ lounge, and her gaze lingers on you before she speaks up, barely giving herself a chance to sit down.

“Oh sweetheart, you look terrible,” she says, concern laced across her features. She’s not wrong. You know the bags under your eyes are worse than ever, having forgone sleep to choose which Christmas carols are least likely to make a room full of elementary schoolers insult you. You wish you had just chosen to sleep instead because every option you threw at your group of angels ended with nicknames being thrown right back at you.

“See, I told you that you looked bad,” Melissa says, the playful glint in her eye accompanied with the squeeze of your thigh letting you know she’s kidding.

“You look like you need this Christmas break,” Barbara adds, “Actually, why don’t you come to the little shindig Melissa and I have here on the last day? Get that break started early for you.”

It’s worrying how quickly you accept the invitation but Melissa’s hand on your thigh paired with the musky smell of her perfume makes it impossible to decline.

“Of course, I’ll come! Do I need to bring anything?” You ask.

“Nothing at all, we’ve got it all covered,” the older teacher replies. “Just bring your dancing shoes.”

You’ve visibly relaxed at the prospect, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your company. While you’re distracted taking another, albeit smug, sip of Melissa’s coffee, Barbara shoots the redhead a knowing look, quirking her eyebrow as she does so. For a split second, Melissa turns the same shade of red as her hair, caught out by Barb and the confession of a pretty obvious crush she gave a few weeks ago. She quickly manages to regain her composure, hand still resting on your thigh and phone still in hand.

You would think that a full week later, after hours of Christmas songs later, that you would be sick of carols. But you still find yourself sitting in the teachers’ lounge long after the rest of the faculty has left the building on the final day of school before winter break, with your usual duo and the addition of Mr Johnson. The room is filled with a warmth that doesn’t just come from the school’s subpar heating system, but instead from the situation you find yourself in.

You feel a slight buzz from the copious amounts of wine you’ve consumed since the end of the school day, your stomach lined with Melissa’s incredible cooking and sweet treats brought in by Barbara. You feel that Mr Johnson is in the same boat as you as he mills around the room, plastic cup filled with what you can only assume is even more wine, swaying by himself to the record that plays from the relic of a radio that sits on one of the many cabinets in the room.

Your attention is immediately drawn elsewhere when Melissa’s cackle fills the room, her and Barb sharing stories that they’ve no doubt already told each other a few dozen times over the years. You completely miss the anecdote, but you still can’t help a smile from breaking out on your face at the sound of laughter, the noise acting like music to your ears – it’s far better than anything that could possibly be played on that radio right now.

Almost as if by cue, the pair finish their story and the older of the two decides to rise from her chair, beckoning to you as she does so.

“Come on, I wanna start to shake my groove thing,” says Barbara, already swaying slightly from the few glasses of wine she’s consumed herself. You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, matching her action and standing from your chair yourself, moving further from the security of the table as a swing version of “Jingle Bell Rock” continues playing. “I need a dance partner and you’re the perfect height so get yourself over here.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before her hands quickly mold you into shape, moving one of your own to her hip whilst the other grips your open palm.

“Wow Barb, at least buy a girl a drink first,” you grin as she swats at your shoulder, giggling along herself. The bells on the front of her extremely festive bright red sweater jingle as she does so. The swaying of your ‘dance’ lasts for a mere few seconds before Barbara interrupts it herself.

“Melissa, I think we may need to swap places,” she says as she glances at where Mr Johnson stands, eyes still closed and nursing his plastic cup of wine. “I have a feeling Mr Johnson may need some assistance.”

Melissa mumbles her response as she comes nearer to you, seamlessly swapping places with the elder woman. You completely miss the wink that is thrown her way from Barb, eyes still focused on Mr Johnson’s one-man party.

When you turn your head back to face in front of you, you’re naturally drawn to the bright green eyes that sit slightly below your eyeline. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the sight, rarely getting to see them this close. It always baffles you how many shades of green, blue and brown come together to create a colour that can only be described as ‘Melissa’. You realize you’ve been staring a little too long when a change of song and her words break you from your thoughts.

“Come a little closer, you can’t dance properly if you leave enough room for Jesus and the 12 disciples,” she says, her tone playful and smile wide. You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter as her hand snakes from your hip to the small of your back to bring you in closer. There's no mistaking who is leading who.

When you bring your head back Melissa is considerably closer than before. She’s so close that you can see each individual eyelash under her thick layer of mascara and eyeliner, along with the slightly smudged edge of her lipstick, the deep red of the wine making the colour even richer. The smell of her musky yet floral perfume invades your senses as she looks up toward you. You move your hands from her shoulders to link together behind her neck, her red curls tickling your wrists.

You can feel every slight movement she makes as Frank Sinatra croons at you both as you sway slightly in place, too scared to move too quickly in case you scare each other. Her thighs almost touch yours and your chests are almost entirely pressed together. You hope she can’t feel your heartbeat; the speed and intensity of it would almost instantly give away your feelings toward her. Her body this close to yours makes your head spin, your mind racing with possibilities of other situations you may find yourself this close to her in.

You can feel every breath she lets out against your lips, making you aware of how little it would take to connect them with her own. You’re pretty sure she’s noticed too because of the way her eyes keep flicking down to look at them every few seconds. You can feel her hands burning a hole through the material of the shirt against your back. As if she can hear your thoughts, she moves them slightly lower, coming to rest against the waistband of your trousers and dangerously close to your backside. What you wouldn’t give for her to just bite the bullet and slide them into your back pockets to pull you impossibly closer to her.

“You know, I, uh, never wished you a happy Christmas,” she breaks the tense silence, almost whispering as if anything too loud might startle you. “So Happy Christmas, Hun.”

She wears a slight smile on her lips, suddenly dropping the hard exterior she always carries to become the softer, more vulnerable version of herself you’ve come to fall madly in love with.

You can’t help but melt at the sight, your head dropping forward to lean your forehead against hers. She welcomes the move with ease, closing her eyes as you both sway slightly to the music, never moving from your position.

“Happy Christmas, Mel.”

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #reader fanfic #self insert #fluff #writing #wlw #reader fic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti self insert #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti fluff #lisa ann walter fanfic #lisa ann walter x reader

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lost-decade · 5 months

Note

Brocedes and birthday fic + bathtub fic for the prompt meme!

This is light on the birthday side of it, sorry! And more fluffy than I usually write. But hope you like it :)

“I mean, it looks cool.” Lewis steps back, slipping his iPhone out of the pocket of his cargo pants, snapping a photo and then walking around to take another, as if the angle is going to prompt a revelation about practicality vs design. Lewis likes pretty things, always has; clothes, jewellery, Nico. “But don’t you think it would be awkward to…well, I mean.”

“To what?” Nico’s voice has adopted that tone, light amusement that flirts with innuendo. The sales guy looks at Nico, then focuses his hungry gaze on Lewis, scenting out a challenge. Nico is enjoying this immensely, Lewis can tell.

“We have sold seventy of this particular model already this year,” the sales guy, Charles, informs them. He’s pretty, too. Aesthetically in place in the bathroom showroom among all the gleaming carrara marble vanity units and Japanese style heated toilets. He probably lives in a shoebox high rise like half of Monaco does though. Lewis bets that Sharl, as he had pronounced it, doesn’t have a wall-mounted carbon fibre hammock bath in his flat. He looks at the bath again; for one person it’s fine, he guesses, but the sides are low. Impractical for two. No proper edges, nothing to hold onto if you were to find yourself on your knees, bent forward.

Lewis pictures the water sloshing out all over the wetroom floor. “Do you have anything bigger?” He asks.

Nico snorts into the brochure, yelping exaggeratedly when Lewis sidles up next to him and jabs him in the ribs. So far, the house furnishing decisions have gone as badly as anticipated. Lewis hasn’t done this before. In the past, a designer had sent him a few links and he’d browsed them in about ten minutes and confirmed which choices he liked the look of. It hadn’t occurred to him when they decided to move in together that Nico would want to actually go to places and pick things and get into bathtubs with his shoes on.

“What he means,” Nico says, “is do you have anything big enough for two people to fit?”

“Fucking hell, man.” Lewis drops his head into his hands, but really, he’s used to it. God help him when they get to the bedroom showroom.

To his credit, Charles maintains his composure remarkably quickly despite the endearing flush of pink that deepens his complexion.

“Actually this design studio does take commissions if you were looking for a larger model.”

“See, it’s nice isn’t it. I knew you’d come around.”

Lewis rolls his eyes, lifting his foot to press his toes into Nico’s armpit. It is nice. Somewhat uncomfortable, but nice. “I only agreed to it because it’s your birthday present and I know how much you liked it,” Lewis protests. “I preferred the one with the jacuzzi.”

“No taste,” Nico tsks, earning himself a splash of water in the face.

“Yeah, must be why I ended up with you.”

“You love me really,” Nico protests, leaning over the curve of the sleek black carbon fibre panel to place his champagne flute on the polished concrete floor. No glass in the wetroom ― that was another of Lewis’ firm rules that he’s somehow allowed Nico to bypass. Water cascades onto the floor, warm and soapy as Nico shifts and rearranges himself, hair wet and head resting on Lewis’ chest, their legs tangled together. Lewis’ back hurts but he doesn’t mind, not really. “Of course I do,” he says.

#as schmoopy as i get haha #brocedes #my fic #fun fact i saw this bath on an old episode of grand designs recently

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deansdelicate · 10 days

Text

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER IV: WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [8K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, reader mentions a panic attack (but doesn't actually have one), two idiots pining w/o even knowing it kinda? overprotective sethie, overall fluff!

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: In the midst of chaos, you find yourself naturally drawn to Seth, who is nothing short of a steady anchor in the storm. With each unexpected turn, your bond deepens, and so does Seth’s protectiveness over you. While others might not have gone to the same lengths, Seth’s focus never strays—it’s always you, and nothing else.

Your heels clacked against the polished concrete floors, the twists and turns of the arena causing you to stumble over your feet a bit, though it didn’t stop you from the dash attempting to hideaway from another stage hand set out to find you.

You didn’t mind lending a helping hand and getting the house show prepped for the night after your dad had to bail and take a last-minute flight back home, but nothing could have prepared you for the absolute ambush of people expecting you to know everything.

You did all that you knew off the top of your head: pointing the crew to where they could set up crates and carts, helping set up the titatrons and cameras, and even going over the match card for the night. But you weren’t cut out for whole shebang of stage hands who needed details on each and every single task—most, if not all of them, ones you weren’t acquainted with considering your job wasn’t even running the show.

They were practically all around, and you were confident that they were going to find you one way or another. But you’d at least try your best to avoid them for as long as you could and you thought the bathroom would be just the place.

You pushed the door open, falling against it and swiftly shutting it behind you. You pressed against the wood, as if you were barricading yourself in, but really, you just needed a second to catch your breath and close your eyes—savouring the sweetness of peace and quiet.

“Breathe…” you whispered to yourself, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, trying to ease the dread out of your body.

“You ok?” a voice suddenly reverberated in the empty bathroom, or so you thought.

“Oh, my god!” You screeched, snapping your eyes open, only to be face to face with Seth himself.

You hadn’t seen him around with your hands full all night, and while you wanted to be mortified that this was the circumstances it was under, the embarrassment didn’t even cross your mind. There were too many thoughts whirling through your head, and he certainly wasn’t the stressors you were trying to avoid by any means.

“Am I in the men’s bathroom?” You sputtered, pushing off the door in order to step further into the bathroom, expecting to see more stars, but thankfully it was just him.

“No, it’s unisex.” He assured, watching you trudge over to the sinks turning on the faucet to run your hands under the frigid water.

Seth pushed his brows together, staring at you concerned in the mirror’s reflection, “You look flustered, are you good?”

He noticed you were still trying to even your breathing while you splashed some of the water droplets over your neck, visibly trembling from head to toe. He knew something was up.

“My dad had to fly back to Stamford, and he left me to handle everything and now I’m stuck here dealing with things that I really have no clue about.” Your voice shook as you explained yourself.

You shut off the water, pressing your wet, cold fingertips against your forehead still trying to ease your buzzing nerves.

He hadn’t seen you in such a state, and you appeared to be a shell of yourself before his eyes. Even on your first day of work, you seemed to have some semblance of control over your nervousness, but today was another level of high-strung stress that plagued him, wondering how long you had been feeling this way until ultimately hiding out.

Surely people didn’t just expect you to know the ins and outs already?

You didn’t even give out orders the way your father did, and frankly your job was strictly in the creative realm. He couldn’t imagine what everyone else had been bothering you for that they didn’t already know how to handle considering their time with the company.

He didn’t have any time to spit out questions—whether you needed something to drink or to see the trainers for rest.

“Has anyone seen Ms. Levesque?” A voice rang out loud enough through the hallways getting closer to the bathroom.

Your eyes widened, spinning around and giving Seth a begging look.

“You haven’t seen me and I’m not here!” You whispered hurriedly, finding shelter in the furthest stall and locking the door shut.

He didn’t need any convincing, immediately getting into character as the door swung open and there stood a stage hand wearing a frantic look and letting themselves in without knocking.

“Is Ms. Levesque in here?” They urged, but before they could come closer and inspect the stalls for themselves, Seth stepped in front of them, blocking the path.

“Haven’t seen her at all today. It’s just me in here.” He spoke, playing it cool as the stage hand peered past him for a split second.

“Have you checked gorilla? It is almost doors and she could be there.” Seth added, eyes trailing down to the watch on their wrist and just like that the stage hand muttered out a ‘thank you’ under their breath before they left.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at how little it took to get them scurrying. “You can come out now.”

You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, sliding the lock loose, causing the door to swing open.

“Thanks,” you sighed, exiting the stall, and meeting him near the sinks again.

“I think I’m seriously going to spiral if I hear one more person ask for me.” You confessed, running your hands through your hair stubbornly.

You could just feel the migraine starting to brew, and the last thing you needed was your head throbbing over circumstances out of your couldn’t control. Seth shook his head, his hand extending towards your arm and giving it an encouraging rub.

His touch brought forth a calming warmth over your shuddering body, desperately holding onto the feeling before his fingertips suddenly fell, leaving you aching again.

“I think you’re doing great, and I’m sure the girls wouldn’t mind you hiding out in the locker room. Stage hands almost never go in there for house shows.”

You perked up at the sound of that, tilting your head at him.

“Is it nearby?” You crossed your fingers, hoping it wasn’t on the other side of the arena where you’d surely be found by then.

“Yeah, it’s right next to ours.” He nodded.

“Okay, can you show me?” You smiled tightly, wanting to get out as soon as possible before another came in and blew your cover.

Seth nodded, holding a single finger up as he walked towards the door.

“Yeah, just give me a sec…” He peeked his head out, looking left and right making sure the coast was clear before, looking back at you and gesturing you over, “Come on.”

Seth’s arm slipped across your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side as you hung your head low hoping to not be spotted in the crowded hallways. You didn’t even have the time to think twice about the implications if you two did get caught in such a way—plus even if you did it was nothing they had to worry about when it was just friends helping each other out.

“Here you are,” Seth stopped in front of a door decorated with a plaque that read, “Female Talent” on it.

His arm fell back to his sides, as you pushed your hair out of your face, keeping your voice low as you whispered, “Thank you so much.”

“Come find me if you need another hiding spot.” He joked light heartedly, making you giggle with a nod before you waved goodbye and let yourself in.

Like he promised, the girls didn’t mind you at all.

It was more so surprising to them seeing that it was you of all people who walked through the doors, over apologetic for barging in out of nowhere.

But they immediately welcomed you with open arms, ushering you over to sit and hang out with them since they rarely got the opportunity to catch up with you being so busy.

You had confessed what led you to hiding out in their locker-room and they all immediately shook their heads, knowing damn well that most if not all stage hands weren’t new to the schedule, so them coming to you was just out of inconvenience.

Nattie was especially trouble, shaking her head disappointingly, "That's not right," She muttered, shooting her husband TJ a text message about what was going on.

You twisted your fingers in your lap nervously, hating that this is what you had to come to in order to get away.

“Maybe I’m just being dramatic, right? I just don’t understand what I’m supposed to tell them, when I don’t even know what’s going on too.” You sighed heavily.

You weren’t trying to act like an entitled brat, but you knew deep down that you did everything in your power to help everyone. There was only so much you could do without feeling like you were risking making a mistake and the blame falling on someone else.

“TJ has it handled. No need to worry.” She assured you, shoving her phone back into her bag, as you shot her a thankful smile for going out of her way to have your back.

“You don't know what that means to me,” you gratefully, reached over, hugging her tightly before pulling away. “I guess I should go now that the search is off.” You half laughed, going to get up and give the girls their space back.

But a hand quickly wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from doing so. It was Alexa, who shook her head along with the other ladies who looked excited to have you and wanted to spend more time together.

“Stay! You can help us get ready for the show!” She said eagerly, and you smiled at the thought, taking her up on the offer and deciding to stick around longer than you anticipated.

The smell of hairspray, and the heaps of makeup pallets cluttering the countertops took you back to the feeling of being at home again. It reminded you of your little sisters’, the random nights they’d spend at your apartment begging for silly makeovers, and even back in your childhood bedroom where your mom taught you how to do your own hair and makeup.

“How are you so fast?” Alexa gaped in the mirror astonished, most of her hair already curled despite you just starting minutes ago.

You laughed, sectioning off another part and wrapping her blonde locks around the barrel of the iron. “It helps when you have three little sisters who always want their hair done.”

She smiled. “How old are they?”

“Sixteen, thirteen and, ten.” You listed off with a huff, feeling incredibly old.

“They’re totally lucky to have you as a big sis.”

Truth be told, you were definitely the luckier one, seeing as though all three of them were extremely close to you despite their teenage ages, which was supposed to be where they wanted absolutely nothing to do with their older ‘uncool’ sister. But it was quite the opposite with them wanting to spend as much time with you, but especially not that you weren’t home as often as before.

It was one thing that almost caused you to turn down the offer of working with the company. As a kid, you grew up with your parents constantly traveling, and while they had the luxury of taking you with them, as you got older, the idea didn’t seem enticing and you just craved being home where you belonged.

And while you weren’t your sister's parent, you filled that role of being like one, and the last thing you wanted was for them to feel as if you were abandoning them. Thankfully, your schedule was flexible enough for you to go home every other weekend, and with more shows being put on in Connecticut, it was convenient to see them as much as you could.

“Oh, I have got to show you what I gifted her!” You said excitedly, finishing up the final curl before retrieving your phone and scrolling through your album.

“I showed Seth last week, and he thought it was pretty cool too.” You grinned to yourself, finally finding the picture and passing your phone around.

“God, I feel so old. I had one of those when I was like seven,” Nattie grumbled, seeing the vintage polaroid your sister was holding, causing you all to laugh.

“Speaking of him,” Naomi nudged your side teasingly with her elbow, “How do you like working with him?”

You smiled, biting down your lip with a shrug of your shoulders.

“He’s great, I mean, we work well together and we have a lot of chemistry, so it’s been smooth sailing so far.”

You couldn’t help but notice the impish expressions covering their faces. Liv smirked, passing your phone back to you.

“Do you think he’s cute?” She asked bluntly, causing your eyes to widen and a blush to break over your cheeks.

“Leave the poor girl alone!” Naomi chided, rolling her eyes at the girls who giggled harmlessly.

“What? It’s just a question. This is a judgement free zone.” Liv argued confidently, looking around at the girls who nodded—seriously, they all were like sisters, and nothing was ever off limits.

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder shyly, shrugging again, “He’s got a nice face alright...I’ll leave it at that!”

They all broke out into a girlish giggle, causing you to cover your face not out of embarrassment but for the sole fact that you actually said it out loud for the first time. You always thought Seth was cute—watching him for as long as you did over the course of your preparation coming onto the main roster, you always thought he had an appeal on screen and it was no different in real life.

So yeah, Seth Rollins had a pretty good-looking face, and you were quite lucky to work with him.

As the night progressed, time moved quickly with you busy and the anxious thoughts finally washed away. The girls who had matched had already made their way back to the locker room, getting showered and changed while you and the other ladies continued to chat.

“I’m so not looking forward to the drive tonight.” Alexa groaned, coming out from the attached bathrooms, changed into fresh clothing as she chucked her gear into her suitcase and zipped it up.

“Tell me about it, and tonight I’m riding with the hubs and his brothers.” Naomi sighed half heartedly, and they all laughed, knowing that driving with a bunch of guys was always the worst for multiple reasons.

Suddenly your eyes widened, the time spent with the girls causing you to lose track of everything else—including how you were getting to the next city. All the stress you had thought you fought off was coming back like cruel punishment testing if you were really meant to do this or not.

Your dad had taken off in such a haste, and it was a no brainer that he took the company plane, the same one you were supposed to get on at the end of the night to head to the next city. But that was before plans changed. There were no drivers on hand to take you to the next city, and the plane was certainly on the tarmac by now.

“Wait, where are we going next?”

You bit down nervously on your lip, grabbing your phone and trying to load the itinerary in your emails, hoping Eddie had sent you travel arrangements.

“Chicago.” They answered before your phone could load up your mail.

When the app finally loaded and refreshed, there was nothing from Eddie nor your dad about your mode of transportation to the next city. You were practically stranded and fucked.

“Shit.” You whispered, closing your eyes tightly and shaking your head.

“What’s the matter?” Liv frowned, looking over your shoulder.

You took a deep breath, trying to give your best smile while your mind raced with solutions.

“Nothing, I just have to go call Eddie. I totally forgot to ask him about something.” You waved off not wanting to worry them.

You stepped out of the locker room, pacing anxiously as you pulled up your messages between you and Eddie, shooting him a few. Much to your dismay the normal blue bubbles sent through as green, furthering your worries.

Sure, you could have easily went back in the locker room to ask one of the girls if it was okay to tag along with them to the next city, but you already felt bad for camping out in their locker room for the whole night and the last thing you wanted was them to feel suffocated by you.

Funnily enough, in the face of worry, your footsteps didn’t seem to second guess your mind, heading straight to the person you were hoping didn’t already leave the arena. The more you searched the hallways, the more helpless you became. The sliver of hope that he was still around fading with each second that passed knowing you’d have to quickly think up another solution, when you’re one and only was nowhere to be found.

But there he was—his back turned to you as he talked to a member of the production team about something you were too relieved to care about in the moment. He had his luggage and a few bags near his side and you knew you had caught him just in time, and you weren’t going to let it slip from you.

You hurried your footsteps, and unbeknownst to you, the familiar sounds of your heels rang through his ears, prompting him to turn his head over his shoulder mid conversation, spotting you making a beeline towards him.

He could read your face and the worry that covered it, the same one that you wore in the confines of the bathroom where you didn’t have to conceal it with a faux smile so the nearby eyes wouldn’t know something was wrong.

“Woah, hey, are you still dodging people?” Seth twisted his body completely, turning your way and forgetting the previous conversation all together, giving his attention to you.

You stopped right in front of him, rubbing at your temples and pinching your eyes shut, hoping you weren’t about to ask for too much from him.

“No, I actually was looking for you.” Your chest deflated with a heavy sigh that was reminiscent of the anguish you displayed earlier.

He straightened up at the sound of that, nodding his head ready to take on whatever you needed from him.

“How can I help?”

“I thought I had a flight to the next city, but since the plane left with my dad I’m sorta stranded, and I really don’t want to go book a flight and I can’t get ahold of Eddie so I was wondering if I’d be okay if I drove with you and Roman to the next city?”

You were nearly out of breath at how fast you were talking, trying to cut to the chase and not waste any more of his time than you already were.

“Of course,” He replied without any reluctance or a second to think if you should ask someone else instead—his quick response clearly stunned you, but you were indebted more than anything else.

“But it’ll just be you and me. Roman’s riding with his cousins and Naomi this time around.” He added, pointing behind you to where Roman and his cousins Jey and Jimmy were already starting to exit the arena.

Naomi was right behind them, rolling her things along. She caught you in her peripheral, causing her to turn to you, shooting you a teasing smile when she realized you were alone with Seth. You waved weakly, returning a small smile keeping your composure before you turned to him again.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me.” You smiled through a deep breath and he began to roll his luggage and bags out of the path.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get my stuff really quick.” You gestured down the hall to where your office was.

“Take your time.” He assured you, not being able to help himself, chuckling and shaking his head, as you twirled around and did a quick jog in your heels not wanting to keep him waiting long.

You changed out of your skirt and top, tossing the pieces and your heels into your suitcase, and quickly grabbing a random baggy t-shirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants. You pulled mismatched socks over your feet, slipping them into your usual sneakers, hurriedly shutting the luggage and zipping it up.

You grabbed the packet of makeup wipes you kept in your purse, opening your phone camera to use as a mirror as you swiped the cloth over your face, letting your skin breathe. Tossing the wipes into the trash bin, you did a one over your office, making sure you had all your belongings, before turning off the lights and heading back to Seth.

Staying out of the path where stage hands and techs were clearing, he scrolled through his phone, waiting for you. And while he wasn’t one for divulging into social media comments, WWE’s recent post of your segment together had appeared on his feed, and many fans had lots to say.

‘Don’t know if this will end well for Seth, but how funny would it be if they actually got together in real life?”

One comment read, making him chuckle and shake his head—a thread of people agreeing or shunning the idea, like they had a say, anyway.

Another one wrote, ‘I can feel the tension through the screen,’ followed by an abundance of emojis that Seth wasn’t quite able to decode, but still made him laugh none the less.

At least he knew you both were doing something right if a single segment was already getting fans excited about what was to come. Whatever ‘tension’ fans saw meant that you two were doing exactly what you needed to do with your characters—it was all just part of the storyline.

“Sorry for the holdup.” Your soft voice shot down the empty halls, causing him to look up as you approached.

Mindlessly he slipped his phone into his pocket, trailing his eyes carefully over you—bare faced, hair pulled up, and the tiredness evident across your features and demeanor, yet you still managed to put on a smile thanking him endlessly for going out of his way.

“No holdup here,” He assured you, grabbing his things and rolling it beside him. “All good to go?” He wearily took note of all your baggage not wanting you forget anything important.

You nodded with a hum, “All packed up and ready.”

He led the way out to the parking garage where most of the superstars were already loading up their cars and preparing for the long trip ahead. Seth fidgeted with the car keys, sounding off the horn in order to find his rental that was almost identical to all the other SUVs around.

Recognizing the blinking tail lights and alarm sound, he subtly held his free arm out towards the small of your back, guiding you in its direction. You peered over at him as you walked, a little taken aback by the kind gesture—the way he wanted to keep you close felt almost comforting.

Only when you both made it to the car did his hand finally drop, allowing him to pop the trunk open while you stood there waiting to slide your things in. You stifled a small yawn behind your hands, rubbing your eyes lightly trying to shake off the fatigue until you got to the hotel. Seth slipped his backpack off, pushing it into the trunk, taking a quick glance at you and noticed your slowed movements.

Before you could even process what was happening, a soft click causing you to squint past your blurry vision, seeing Seth already lifting your suitcase and sliding it in.

“I got it. Go get comfy.” He offered thoughtfully, sliding the key fob into your palm, nodding at you to go ahead before continuing to load up the car.

You didn’t put a fight, giving him a nod as you hurried into the passenger side, placing your purse on the floor and leaning over the middle console in order to get the car running. Twisting the dials for the air conditioning and heat, you found a decent temperature that could keep you toasty yet cool at the same time.

The trunk closed shut behind you shortly after, and Seth had made his way around to the driver’s seat, getting in and placing his phone into one of the cup holders for easy access.

“Is it okay?” You hovered your hands in front of the vents, keeping your eyes on him.

His fingertips skimmed against yours, a pleased look on his face, glancing over at you.

“It’s fine for me. You aren’t too cold are you?” He rose his brow, feeling your hands slightly shaking next to his.

You weren’t particularly bundled up, and the night travel was always brisker, with temperatures dropping. There was only so much the heater could do to warm the car without it feeling like an absolute sauna, and a three-hour drive meant an absolute need to be as comfortable as you could be.

A slight shiver ran up and down your arms, chin trembling either out of pure exhaustion or frigidity, yet you still shook your head, lowering your hands into your lap, clasping them together for warmth trying to convince him.

You began to assure him, but it didn’t last long, “No I’m—”

He dropped his hands, fingers going to the zipper of his jacket, pulling the closure down and shrugging the garment off his arms, holding it out to you.

“I can see you shivering, you know.” He chuckled, nudging the jacket to you again when you didn’t take it the first time.

You hesitated for a second, before ultimately sighing out a laugh and taking it, apologizing as you slipped it on.

“I’m a guest in your car. I didn’t want to overstep.”

Seth let out a sarcastic grunt, buckling in as he spoke.

“Trust me, I’ve driven with guys who snore through ten hour drives and some who insist on blasting music all the way through. You’re by far the best road partner I’ll have to date.”

He said it like a promise, sweet and sincere like the way his voice always carried itself with you. It was hard as is, transitioning into a new job, but one that also came with an intense level of travel added another layer to the reason why he felt it was vital you had someone you could go to no matter what—and if that was him, then he was more than happy to be that person for you.

You crossed your fingers he couldn’t see you blushing through the darkness of the car. The headlights reflecting brightly off the walls and bouncing off the windshield didn’t help your case, but you couldn’t fight it. Perhaps you were smitten because of the conversation you had with the girls just a short while ago, but even then you knew it was partly just you in your head.

You had banked out on becoming friends with Seth, and you couldn’t possibly imagine what you’d do without him. And what Eddie had teasingly said about you and him acting as more than friends suddenly played like a loop in your head. But you had to remind yourself that it was just platonic, and that was all it could ever amount to.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along. I’d be lost without you.” You murmured, absentmindedly setting your hand over his wrist, grazing his skin softly.

Seth kept his cool, ignoring the hot rush of blood in his veins beneath your touch—it was nothing else besides platonic. Your kindness had always been extended to everyone. It just so happened that you two had spent a lot of time together, but still didn’t mean anything else.

He had spent all this time criticizing his friends because of their relentless teasing, yet he knew that if they were there to see what was unfolding before him, it would only egg all of them on further to believing you and him could actually be a thing.

The naked eyes you both held onto each other didn’t even see through a glimpse of what you felt inside. You didn’t say anything about his pulse beating against your fingertips and Seth certainly didn’t bring up your pink cheeks in the dead of the night—all of it was left unspoken, but it didn’t mean that nothing was said.

You and Seth talked and talked under the moonlit sky, mostly about Chicago. He had been multiple times, back in his indie days where he would drive from state to state and town to town to wrestle and get his name out there. All of those late night drives in shitty broken-down cars finally paid off a few years back after your father offered him a contract in developmental and closed off the indie days chapter and brought him straight to Tampa where bigger plans laid ahead.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t been to many places, far from home, and Chicago was one of them. It was safe to say that while the travel schedule was something so foreign to you it gave you the opportunity to see the world in a medium where you still got to work within your element.

“Do you ever miss the indies?” You marveled aloud, peering at him and he pursed his lips, puffing out an absurd breath of air.

“Hell no,” He sneered, making you burst into laughter, shaking your head at him while he argued his case, “I don’t miss getting paid forty bucks and a hot dog for getting my ass kicked in a high school gym.”

It felt like it was just yesterday when promoters would slap a few bills in the palm of his hand, and he was even lucky if they provided food after the show. Most times it was just him and his other indie buddies driving to the nearest 7/11 to spend their hard earned cash on gas station food and fill up their tank to head back home only for a repeat all over again.

“Okay, I get that,” You nodded understandingly, shifting your torso towards him as you tucked your legs under yourself. “But I mean, do you miss the innocence? Like, the small crowds that believed in you, even when you were just doing it for the hope of it all?”

You stared at him, elbow rested on the console, genuinely curious, and Seth found it endearing considering his past wasn’t all that glamorous to begin with. But your desire to dive into his world, attempting to dissect it in your own way made him realize that he hadn’t pondered his roots in what felt like forever.

“Well, when you put it that way,” He strung together a hum, glancing at you for a quick second just enough for you to catch his smile before turning his attention back to the road, “Yeah. I never imagined I’d be here. It still feels a little surreal at times.”

Perhaps there was a double meaning. Here as in working for the company he had always been dreaming about since he was kid. And here beside you—breathing your air, hearing your voice, getting a rare to chance to know you.

He didn’t know why he thought beyond what you had asked, but it felt right, just as he was beside you. The what was supposed to be solo drive to the next city, way more pleasant with your presence.

“You came a long way and you deserve it.” You grinned, eyes twinkling towards him, catching a glimpse of his orbs that wished could’ve stayed set on you through the night.

The first hour of the car ride was a breeze, a nice smooth journey as you and Seth talked about any and everything under the dusk to get you through the next town. You could’ve listened to his voice for hours, talking up a storm and making you crack a smile even in your most exhaustive hours—but then again, you were spent, and soon your quick replies and giggles became nothing but tired hums and weak nods of your head.

You liked to think that the same way his voice could keep you up in the early morning hours of a busy city, also had the effect of helping you drift off into sleep on a long road to another bustling town.

Seth hadn’t taken your quietness as to you being asleep. To be fair, he had just thought you were staring out the window, taking in the drive with some comfortable silence he didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t until he pulled up to the drive through of a fast-food restaurant that he realized that you had been fast asleep for nearly a half hour.

“Did you want something?” He asked, finishing up his order and reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet before looking over at you.

With no response, he hovered over the console a tad, finally seeing your chest falling in tune with the mellow breaths you took, and your eyes fluttered shut as you dreamed away. He smiled tightly at the sight just before turning back to the intercom and speaking at a lower volume in hopes not to wake you.

Hour two consisted of Seth quietly munching on his fries and burgers, softening the crinkle of the paper under a napkin, doing his best to keep the car nice and quiet for you.

You had shifted around a few times by hour three, maneuvering your body into a cramped fetus position and facing towards him. You untucked your arms from the inside of the jacket, pulling the excess fabric under your chin and settling into a deep sleep once more.

How you were able to sleep like a baby in the passenger seat wasn’t something he could fathom, considering how uncomfortable the front seat was for the guys who were always too tall to burrow into a cacoon like you were. But he guessed you had overworked yourself into a state of complete and utter exhaustion.

You always gave a hundred percent of yourself every night, but with your dad gone and you left to the pickup the pieces, you had gone out of your way to try to help everyone—spreading yourself out too thin before the veil broke and you had to hide away for the sake of your wellbeing.

The drive was nearly over, and he could only steal some quick glances towards you before you both had finally made it to the hotel just a little before midnight. The parking lot was full of similar rental cars, a clear indicator that everyone had beaten them there. Finding the nearest available parking spot, he quickly drove in, switching gears and letting up on the brake pedal.

“Wakey, wakey,” Seth called out gently, unbuckling his seat belt and giving your arm a soft tap, attempting to stir you from your slumber.

Yet you didn’t budge, not even a little, your breathing slow and steady as the hum of the air conditioning faded when Seth pulled the key from the ignition. He sighed softly, not wanting to disturb you but knowing you needed proper rest.

“Sweetheart, we made it to the hotel,” He spoke a little louder this time, hoping it’d get you to wake, “We gotta get you checked in so you can get some in bed, yeah?”

He reached over to give your shoulder a soft rub, trying to ease you awake gradually.

“Hmm,” you groaned, eyebrows furrowing together as you fidgeted around and turned away from him, body curling towards the passenger door.

Waking you up didn’t seem like a possibility, your body too exasperated to even make out his voice calling out to you, and it was probably in his best interest if he just made sure you got to your room to rest. Letting his hand slip away, he came around to your side, gently opening the door, and reaching in with one arm to support you while the other unclasped your seatbelt.

“Come on, I’m gonna help you out.” He murmured, shifting you into an upright position.

Carefully, Seth unzipped the jacket you’d borrowed from him earlier, slipping your arms back into the sleeves so he could lift you more easily.

Cradling you in his arms, he carried you out of the car, making sure you stayed upright against his side, as he shut the door and locked up the car, guiding your dead weight towards the hotel entrance.

The woman at the reception desk looked up with a warm smile as Seth approached, your head resting on his shoulder, still deep in sleep.

“Under what name?” The woman asked, fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to get you both into your room.

Seth shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on you as he spoke, “Actually, we have two separate rooms. Hers should be under Levesque.” He told her, waiting for a room key to your suite before asking for his.

The woman’s smile faltered with a frown, shaking her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can only give the room information to the individual whose last name the room is under.” She said, gawking at your unconscious state.

Seth sighed, glancing down at you resting so peacefully in his arms. He didn’t have the heart to wake you up, just for a little room key.

“Look, I don’t want to wake her. She’s had a long day and she really just needs some rest.”

“I understand that, sir, but it’s policy.” The woman explained, “I’m afraid I can’t make any exceptions.”

She was just doing her job, and he understood that the predicament looked more than sketchy, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, and he certainly wasn’t going to let you go to bed on the lobby couch.

“Okay, how about Rollins? My room.” He proposed, slipping his hand into his pocket, retrieving his identification.

She scanned over his ID, nodding and sliding it back towards him, then doing some typing on her keyboard getting the room information from the computer screen.

“Here you are, room 1306,” she slid the key across the countertop, and Seth quickly slipped it into his pocket before wrapping both arms around you securely again.

“It has a single king bed, but there’s also a pull out.” She added thoughtfully, but Seth didn’t miss the confusion on her face, not understanding why you both would have separate rooms to begin with.

“Thank you.” He nodded, keeping it short not feeling the need to explain himself, before carrying you through the lobby toward the elevators.

The nearest elevator began to close, and he quickly called out, hoping for the people inside to stop it.

Unbeknownst to him, the lift contained his buddies—the same ones who recognized his voice in an instant and stopped the doors from shutting at the list second. Jey snuck his hand out, prompting the doors to open once again, as there Seth stood with the boss’s daughter in his arms.

“Oh shit! Don’t tell me you’re going all vintage Triple H right now,” He shrieked, voice echoing in the small space and ringing out the corridor, causing everyone’s eyes to widen.

Seth ignored the comment, shifting your weight slightly to keep you snug in his hold as he stepped into the elevator. He didn’t have the usual energy to snap back a remark, too tired and frankly too concerned about getting you into bed to actually care.

Jimmy gave his brother a light smack on the back of the neck, silently telling him to cut it out, while both he and Naomi rolled their luggage aside to make room for the two bodies joining them.

“Thanks,” Seth mumbled, settling in as the doors closed behind him.

Roman leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You can’t be serious, can you?” his tone half serious, half amused not believing this was actually unfolding before his very eyes.

He knew that the closer Seth became to you, the risker things would become—not just the notion of the superstars making harmless jokes anymore, but substantial people backstage that would take notice and immediately tell your father of any funny business. And it seemed Seth wasn’t even thinking about that at all.

“What?” Seth shrugged his shoulders as much as he could without waking you, not knowing what the big deal was. “She fell asleep in the car and I tried to wake her up but it’s pointless.” He reasoned plainly.

Roman sighed, still a little skeptical, “What floor?” He asked, reaching over to push the button on the panel.

“Thirteen.” Seth replied, watching the button illuminate, the lift humming, as it took you all upwards.

Seth glanced down at you, gently readjusting your arms around his waist so you could stay comfortable. And like it was instinct, he felt your arms tighten around him, nuzzling your face deeper into the juncture of his neck.

His cheeks threatened to turn red, and a smile tugged violently at the corner of his lips, a kind of smitten he had to hold back, wishing he took a different elevator to conceal their eyes that bored into the two of you. He cleared his throat, cutting into the silence, trying to shift the focus away from the jokes that wanted to air out.

“Didn’t you guys leave the arena before us? You’re just getting in?”

Naomi rolled her eyes, shooting her husband a glare. “This man missed the exit and the stupid GPS rerouted us wrong.”

“Hey don’t blame me!” Jimmy protested, smacking his lips with a tsk, “there’s worse that could’ve happened like my ass on the verge of getting fired because I decided to kidnap the bosses daughter.”

Seth grumbled, closing his eyes with the shake of his head, hoping the damn elavator would hurry it up.

“Shut up.” Naomi smacked his arm lightly, her eyes softening when she looked at you. “She needs the rest. She was telling us about the wild goose chase they had her on tonight. Poor thing.”

“Exactly, thank you.” Seth looked over at the woman gratefully, nodding his head, as he spoke dryly towards the others, “It’s what friends would do for each other.”

Roman shook his head, stifling a laugh, “Yeah okay sure…friends.”

Finally, the elevator approached the thirteenth floor, slowing as Seth was ready to escape the confines, but of course not without one final jab from Jey.

“Nighty night…don’t let the ghost of papa H haunt you tonight.”

Everyone choked on their laughter, not wanting to possibly wake you and face the wrath of Seth himself. Roman stuck one hand out the door as it opened, pausing the automatic closure.

“See you in the morning, man.” He added with a knowing smirk, giving his brother a pat on the back, as Seth exited and headed down the hall to find his room.

Once he found it, he fished the key out of his pocket, sliding it into the slot. The lock mechanism whirled quietly in the stillness before the green light flickered on, unlocking the door. It wasn’t a suite, but the room had ample space for you both, though Seth knew he still had to grab the belongings from the car.

He stepped inside, gently kicking the door closed behind him, and without thinking his hand reached for the lock, turning it into place.

Guiding you over to the bed, he did his best to maneuver you as quick as he could, yet at the same time keeping his touch delicate not wanting to wake you so abruptly.

“Easy, easy,” he whispered, setting you down upright for a moment letting your forehead rest against his shoulder as he pulled back the sheets, then carefully rested you down back first.

He took a moment to adjust the pillow under your head, making sure you were comfortable, before kneeling down on the ground to work your shoelaces loose. Pulling your socked feet away from your sneakers, he set them aside before tucking your legs under the duvet.

“There we go,” He chuckled under his breath, impressed with himself that you hadn’t woken up through all the moving and noise.

He tucked you in carefully, making sure you were snug enough to where the blankets stopped at your chest. But you had done the same thing in the car—your fingers timidly creeping up, brushing against his as you pulled it up higher under your chin.

Seth couldn’t help but smile, standing there for a moment as he watched you relax even deeper into the bed. Your bones sensing the cushiony feeling underneath you and all the weight you had been carrying suddenly melting away with your breathing slowed and steady.

Content that you were safe and sound, he quietly slipped out of the room, triple checking to make sure the door was locked again before heading back down to retrieve the bags from the car. It was nearing almost one in the morning and his own fatigue crept into his bones and the socket of his eyes that wanted to droop asleep, yet all that he could feel was an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He didn’t like the idea of being away from you, let alone being with anyone else in the state that you were in tonight.

What would’ve happened if he left the arena before you could find him?

What if you rode with someone else and they hadn’t made sure you were okay?

All the worries that you were the common denominator in eating away at the walls he was supposed to have up in order to protect himself. From what? He had no idea, but he knew well and sure that he couldn’t have let anything happen to you.

You had shifted around in the short time he was gone, this time laying on your side cuddled up into the blankets that practically swallowed you whole. The carpeted floors help cushion the sounds of the wheels rolling against them, setting his belongings in the corner near the couch on the opposite end of the room before setting your stuff near the closet.

There was weak light illuminating the darkness of your bag, your cellphone coming in with a few notifications, but what caught Seth’s eye was the red indicator on the battery icon. Thankfully, your charger was tangled up in your bag, and he quickly undid the loops before walking to your bedside and plugging it in for you to have come morning.

With everything settled, Seth walked over to the pullout couch, grabbing the clothed tab and tugging on it to reveal the full-sized bed. Certainly it wasn’t the comfiest thing for his stature or his back, but he had slept on worse, and he was lucky that he didn’t have to share it with anyone in a janky motel.

Shutting off the lights, and laying down, he still couldn’t get his mind off you as you laid just a few feet away from him. He hadn’t expected this was the way his night would end, but then again, he wouldn’t want it any other way—maybe a proper bed for the sake of his body, but he’d deal with the cards he had been dealt.

As you dreamed away, he wondered if you knew he’d make sure nothing happened to you. That you subconsciously trusted him enough, that even in your weakest, most vulnerable state, you knew he was there. And as his eyes began to blink slower by the second, completely sinking into sleep, in the back of his mind he hoped you knew that he could be that person.

And in the silence of the shared room, you and Seth dreamt away—but not far enough to escape each other.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i hope you guys like chapter four of icsy!!! originally this chapter was supposed to be way longer, but i decided to split it--don't worry, chapter five is coming super soon after this one!!! let me know what you think about sethie and the princess ;D

taglist: @ellesmythe @wonderharryy @southerngirl41 @eringobragh420

#seth rollins x reader #seth rollins #seth rollins smut #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins fic #seth freakin rollins #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe oneshot #wwe x reader #dean ambrose x reader #dean ambrose #roman reigns #wwe x taylor swift #seth rollins x taylor swift

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frostedclock-writes · 2 days

Text

Alastor x ♀️! Reader

Path to Damnation

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Part 1 (Prologue)

Warning: Rated 18+ (just as a general rule of thumb)

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You are the new resident of the hotel, but you aren't there to redeem yourself. No you are repaying a debt owed and it might cost you more then you bargained for. What should you report to Vox on this?

It was always a bit stuffy inside the conference room, the aquarium walls with circling sharks kept you on edge. Though you kept your composure as Mr. Vox ran his electric blue claw like didget around the rim of his glass.

" Simple enough instructions? Our last effort didn't even last the night. " Vox made a scoff of a laugh. " But with this new fancy hotel, " he put on a large smile and made a mocking excited gestured, then rolled his eyes and looked down at his glass, " it should be easy, you will give me a report every week on the hotel and what that fucker is up to with this damn scheme. "

" I think I can handle it, Mr. Vox. " You give a grin and put a hand on your hip. " It's perfect, they are hiring for a second maid thanks to all of their fancy new rooms and I know how to clean up a mess. "

The grin stretched across Vox's screen. " Then don't fail us. " He swirled his glass before taking a drink. " And we can call ourselves even. "

You nod and excuse yourself from the conference room as quickly as possible. You did have this. You haven't been in hell long, but you watched the news three months ago during the last extermination. You saw the faces of those who you will be calling coworker for now. You checked your phone as you got into the elevator. 1:15 p.m. You were expected to arrive and meet the head of staffing at the Hazbin Hotel, the woman named Vaggie. Room and board is included as pay for now, not that you didn't have a flow of funds right now from your current employers. Report and watch. Remember that. A job. Nothing more.

The ding of the elevator brought you back into reality and you stepped out into the bottom floor of the Vee Tower. The crisp smell of electronic and perfumed workers left your nose and was replaced with sulfur and shit. It was something you had gotten used to, among other things that might have once made you cringe or look away in life now just seemed normal. The walk through town was a dangerous one at the best of times, but you knew how to handle yourself. If you didn't, you would have been double dead by this point. You slip your way through the distracted crowds of sinners gathered around the store front of the Vee tower.

Your heels clicked against the concrete of the sidewalk as you made your way through Pentagram City, you looked at your phone again at the directions to the hotel. The Hazbin Hotel. It had been the butt of everyone's joke just nine months prior, but after that little maid had killed the leader of the exterminaton angels it changed. Which has really put a craw in your employers ass. The Vees had hoped the Radio Demon - who was helping with this 'princess passion project ' as they had put it - had disappeared again after that battle but much to Vox's dismay, it seems like he's a lot harder to kill.

You stop as you reach large wrought iron gates and a winding cobblestone pathway to a massive hotel, a large golden statue was in front of the entrance. Is that a dragon goat? You know what, it's hell, why should anything surprise you at this point. You gaze up at it as you pass beneath it on your way to the French double doors, it was massive and the whine of the gold made it seem like someone polished it everyday.

" Quite a work of art, don't you agree?" The crackle of static was the only warning you had before the filtered voice hit your ears from behind you.

You spun on your heels and you were looking into the intense red gaze of the deer demon known as Alastor. He seemed to chuckle at your response and stood up straight from the slightly leaned posture he had. " Oh, yes. Hi. Hello. " You clear your throat and keep your gaze on his smiling mug. Remember why you are here. " I'm here to find a Vaggie ? I am the new hire."

Alastor looked over you for a moment, his eyes drifted from your shoes up to your face and he made a hum sound. " Ah, so she was serious in requiring more help. She only needed to ask and I could have provided. But a fresh face to the hotel will do just nicely. " He extended his hand, " Alastor, quite a pleasure to meet you. Though I am sure you have heard of me no doubt."

You make a laugh and you take his hand, he shook it a little hard and you felt your body wiggle in the force of his shake. " Of course, Well, at least what you used to do was rather famous in the circles I ran in. Though you havent done much in the past eight years. "

His eyebrow twitched, he made a laugh. Loud, a bit forced. " Ha ha, well yes, I had taken a well needed vacation and now my time is taken up by this little project I am helping with."

The sound of a door opening, and a stern female voice called over. " Alastor, Niffty got caught in the chandelier again, could you- oh. " The white haired woman walked over, she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail that was held with a red ribbon and her bangs covered one eye. " You must be who I talked with on the phone. " Then she shot a glare at the Radio Demon. " Are you fucking scaring off our new help?"

Alastor put his hands behind his back. " Nothing of the sort! I was merely introducing myself, as a hotel manager should, hm? Now it seems I am needed elsewhere, " he looked over his shoulder as he began to walk away. His gaze on you for a moment, your stomach felt like it was in a vice with the way his red eyes met yours. " Looking forward to working with you. "

Then he was gone.

You blink and see Vaggie's fingers snapping in front of you. " Oh, sorry, did you say something, ma'am?" You day as you look over at her.

Her stern face softened a bit and she put her hand on her hip. " Come, let me show you the room you will be staying in and we can introduce you to everyone else. Don't worry, they aren't all like... Him." Her nose crinkled as she glanced in the direction that Alastor had left.

" Oh, alright. How many people are staying here anyways?" You ask as you fall in line behind her as Vaggie went inside.

Vaggie made a hum, her hands went behind her back like she was in a slight march. " Currently? We only have one guest, Angel Dust. Our staff includes myself, Husk the concierge and bartender, Niffty is our other resident maid, and you just met Alastor. We often have Charlie's father here as well as 'hotel manager consultant ' as he calls himself. And of course Charlie herself, she's particularly excited to meet you. "

She seemed to speak in a fond tone towards the end, you chuckle and smile. " Well if she is running the place, it's only right I meet her as well."

" She's busy right now prepping your welcoming party. She's going a little crazy in the new banquet hall. " Vaggie made a breath of a laugh. " So I hope you are hungry.

The hallways were carpeted in a elegant red with gold along the edges, the walls were a cream with gold molding along the top and bottom, it was almost a bit intimidating to be walking through in your dirty shoes. Thankfully you had dressed nicely at least in a simple button up blouse and an ankle length skirt, professional was what you had been going for and from what you could remember this outfit fit the bill.

She lead you up to the room you will be staying in for the foreseeable future. It was large, with the carpet being a plain dark red with a queen size bed with plain sheets and a dresser in the corner next to a dark wooden door. You assumed it must lead to a bathroom.

" It's bare, but you are welcome to decorate how you want. Charlie wants everyone to be able to ' express themselves' in healthy ways. " Vaggie explained as you made your way to the bed and felt the soft sheets.

It didn't smell foul in here you noticed. Everything had a sweet scent like apple blossoms and nature, you had almost forgotten what it had smelled like. It was comforting almost, but at the same time you had gotten so used to the copper and sulphur smell that seeped through Hell.

" That's fine. " You made a small chuckle, you clap your hands together as you spin around. " So... A party?"

#alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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everyones-fangirl · 3 months

Text

Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers.

Word Count: 4,233

Chapter 13

Astarion

A deep sigh left my lips as my right hand rose once more to rub at my temples, as if that action alone would fix the mounting issues piling up around me. The council chamber, usually a place of authority and control, felt like a cage. The absence of Lucian, that treacherous snake, was a constant reminder of my own precarious position. He had vanished without a trace, evading every attempt to track him down. Even the council was left in the dark—his cowardice knew no bounds. I stared at the empty chair where he once sat, my mind awash with a thousand unformed plans. Each one began and ended with the satisfying image of his blood pooling at my feet. It was a visceral need, a primal urge to make him pay for his betrayal. But the how and when of it eluded me. My thoughts raced, a chaotic swirl of strategies and fantasies of vengeance, none of them concrete enough to act upon. The chamber itself seemed to mock my frustration. Elaborate tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of ancient battles and glorious victories—symbols of a time when control was absolute and dissent was met with swift, merciless justice. The long, polished table in the center, around which the council would convene, was empty save for a few scattered parchments and quills. I rose from my chair, pacing the length of the chamber. The floor beneath me, a mosaic of dark and light stones, echoed with each determined step. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden beams overhead. I could almost hear Lucian’s laughter, feel his smug satisfaction at having eluded me once again.

My mind drifted to Cassara, to the turmoil I had thrust upon her in my desperate bid to save her. Her transformation weighed heavily on my conscience, a constant reminder of my failure. And yet, it also fueled my resolve. I couldn't afford to be distracted by Lucian's games. I had to protect her, to ensure that the darkness I had pulled her into would not consume her entirely. Lucian's betrayal was a festering wound, one that demanded retribution. But Cassara was my priority. She needed me now more than ever, and I couldn’t let my quest for vengeance blind me to that fact. As much as I yearned to see Lucian's lifeblood spill, I knew that my focus had to remain clear. I stopped pacing, letting my gaze settle on the flickering candle that stood on the table's edge. Its flame danced and wavered, much like my own resolve. But I steeled myself, drawing a deep breath. There would be time for vengeance, time to settle scores. For now, I needed to be the pillar of strength for Cassara, to guide her through the darkness I had so recklessly thrust her into. With renewed determination, I left the council chamber, the echo of my footsteps a promise of the bloodshed to come. Lucian would not escape my wrath forever. But first, I had to ensure that the woman I loved was safe, even if that meant confronting my own demons in the process.

Once I got back home, my steps carried me automatically to my personal office. The weight of the day bore down on me, making each step feel heavier than the last. The office was a sanctuary of sorts. The room itself was vast, with high ceilings that seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with intricate moldings and carvings that hinted at a bygone era of opulence. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, each shelf packed tightly with ancient tomes, scrolls, and grimoires that chronicled the knowledge and histories of countless civilizations. The scent of old parchment and leather permeated the air, a comforting aroma that was as familiar as it was suffocating in moments like these. The centerpiece of the room was the massive, imposing desk that dominated the space. Carved from dark, rich wood, its surface was scarred with the marks of countless plans and decisions made over the years. The desk was always kept meticulously organized, with maps, documents, and writing implements arranged in perfect order, a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded my life. On the opposite side of the room, a small seating area provided a space for more intimate discussions. A pair of high-backed armchairs, upholstered in deep crimson velvet, flanked a low, intricately carved table. Here, I often met with my most trusted advisors, the setting lending itself to confidential conversations and secretive plotting. A side table held a crystal decanter filled with a rich, amber liquid—an indulgence for moments of reflection.

I blindly collapsed into the large, leather chair. The weight of the desk’s history seemed to anchor me, grounding me in moments of uncertainty. I leaned my arms against it, feeling the cool, worn wood beneath my palms as if its solidity could ground me in this sea of turmoil. Thorne appeared in the doorway almost immediately, his presence a silent, steadfast reminder of my own capabilities and resources. His dark silhouette was framed by the dim light of the hallway, his face unreadable as always. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a coiled tension waiting to snap.

"Anything?" I asked, my voice betraying the desperation I felt. I had sent out my own to hunt Lucian down, not fully trusting the council to do so. Their loyalties were too easily swayed, their motives too murky. Thorne was my blade in the shadows, my assurance that Lucian would not slip through our grasp unscathed. Thorne only responded with a shake of his head, his expression grim. The sight of it made my blood boil. A string of curses erupted from my lips, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the room with a violence that matched my internal fury. The failure to locate Lucian was an open wound, and each moment he remained at large was salt ground into it. "Dammit, Thorne," I hissed, my hands clenching into fists on the desk. "He can't have vanished without a trace. He has to be hiding somewhere. We need to be smarter, more ruthless."

Thorne nodded, stepping into the room with the grace of a predator. He closed the door behind him, the soft click a prelude to our next move. "We'll find him, Astarion," he said, his voice a low rumble of certainty. "He's not as clever as he thinks. Desperation makes men careless."

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Thorne was right. Lucian's disappearance, though infuriating, was a desperate move. And desperation was a weakness we could exploit. "Double the efforts," I commanded. "I want eyes everywhere—every alley, every shadow. If he so much as breathes, I want to know about it."

Thorne inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment of my orders. He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway, his gaze meeting mine. "We'll get him," he reiterated, his tone a promise. Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the relentless thrum of my anger.

I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. The ornate moldings and intricate carvings seemed to mock me with their permanence, a stark contrast to the chaos roiling within. Lucian's betrayal was a personal affront, an insult that demanded retribution. But it was more than that—it was a threat to everything I had built, everything I stood for. As I sat there, the weight of the day's failures pressing down on me, my thoughts drifted to Cassara. She was my anchor, my reason for fighting through this storm of treachery and bloodlust. Her transformation, her suffering—it all stemmed from my actions. I couldn't afford to fail her again. I had to find Lucian, had to make him pay for every ounce of pain he had caused. For her, and for me. Lucian would not escape. I would see to that personally. And when I did, the world would know that betraying Astarion was a mistake that cost more than just a life. It would cost a legacy.

Speak of the minx, as if she could sense me thinking about her, the door opened and she walked into the quiet room. Her eyes were vibrant in the dim light, a striking contrast to the shadows that played across her face.They were a brilliant emerald green, more vivid than I had ever seen before, and they seemed to glow with a brighter inner light. It was as if the life she had regained was now radiating outward, drawing everyone who looked into those eyes into her orbit. She moved with a sort of poised shyness that made me want to get down on my knees and give her whatever she was about to ask for. She stepped closer into the flickering light of the candles on my desk, casting an ethereal glow that made her look almost otherworldly. I cocked a brow at her expectantly, my heart rate inexplicably quickening. She was a vision, her once frail frame had filled out, her curves returning with a graceful yet undeniable presence. Eating more had not only restored her physical vitality but had also brought a renewed sense of life to her demeanor. Her skin, once pale and almost translucent, now held a warm, healthy glow. The blood she had consumed had worked its magic, infusing her with a vitality that was impossible to ignore. Her cheeks had a faint blush to them, a sign of the renewed life coursing through her veins. The dark circles that had marred her eyes had faded, replaced by a vibrant sparkle that drew me in every time I looked at her. Her hair, which had appeared dull and lifeless, now shone with a lustrous sheen. The rich waves framed her face beautifully, cascading over her shoulders in a way that begged to be touched. Each strand seemed to catch the candlelight, creating a halo effect that made her look almost ethereal. The deep chestnut color was interwoven with strands of gold and auburn, adding depth and richness to her appearance.Her lips, full and soft, were often tinged with a hint of color, making them even more enticing. When she smiled, it was as if the room brightened, her entire face lighting up with a warmth that was impossible to resist. Her teeth, sharp and slightly elongated now due to her vampiric nature, only added to her allure, giving her an edge that was both dangerous and captivating.

The dress she wore tonight accentuated every inch of her revitalized form. The tight corset made mostly of dark blue lace hugged her chest perfectly, emphasizing the gentle swell of her breasts. It flared out into a simple skirt that brushed against her thighs, hinting at the strength and grace that lay beneath. The intricate patterns of the lace highlighted the curves of her body, drawing the eye to the delicate yet powerful figure she now possessed. As she moved, the dress shifted with her, the fabric clinging to her in a way that was both elegant and seductive. The dark blue lace contrasted beautifully with her glowing skin, creating a striking visual that was impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was a testament to her regained vitality, her steps confident and sure, her presence commanding and undeniable. As she approached, the soft scent of her perfume—a blend of jasmine and something darker, more mysterious—wafted towards me, enveloping my senses and making it difficult to think clearly. I watched her intently, every step she took drawing her closer, increasing the tension in the room. There was an elegance to her movements, a grace that was impossible to ignore. Her presence filled the room, making it feel both smaller and infinitely more significant. She finally stopped just before my desk, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

“What brings you here, my dear?” I asked, my voice a low murmur that barely broke the silence. I couldn't help but lean forward slightly, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. “Is there something you need?”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the side before returning to mine. “I... I just wanted to see you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of vulnerability that tugged at my heart. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her concern, genuine and unguarded, was a stark contrast to the hardened world we both inhabited. It was a reminder of the humanity we still clung to, despite everything. I stood, closing the distance between us in a few swift steps, and gently took her hand in mine. "I'm here," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Her fingers tightened around mine as I pulled her back toward the chair I had been sitting in. I helped her perch on my lap, her feet barely grazing the floor in the tall chair. The warmth of her body against mine was grounding, a comfort I hadn't realized I needed until that moment. "I met someone in the library," she started, her voice soft and hesitant. I looked at her in confusion. "She said her name was Zariel."

I knew every single one of my spawn—personally. I knew their names, what they looked like, and where they were at all times. There was no Zariel on my team and I think I would remember turning one of the rulers of Avernus. My mind raced, trying to place the name and the potential threat it could represent. "What did they look like, my pet?" I asked, keeping my voice steady to avoid alarming her. As I waited for her response, I found myself absently winding her hair around my fingers, the silky strands providing a small distraction from my growing unease.

Cassara took a deep breath, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "She had greenish skin, almost like a faint tint. Her hair was black and curly, cut short around her face. She had sharp black horns and a round pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were red, and she seemed...familiar somehow." She paused, searching my face for any sign of recognition. “She said my friend Caty had caught her eye.”

My mind continued to work at a frantic pace. A green-skinned tiefling with black horns and red eyes. Realization flooded my features, and I shook my head in familiar disappointment but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Her name is Sanna.”

Confusion passed over Cassara, and I could see her body tighten in anger. “Why would she lie to me?”

I forgot how sheltered the poor girl had been, briefly remembering how she told me about growing up in a Druid village. She had no idea who Zariel even was, let alone why Sanna had used that name to mess with her. “Darling,” I began, gently taking her chin in my hand to make her look at me. “It is a prank she pulls on everyone that walks through these halls. You are new and close to me, and I swear she’s a kind of trickster.”

Cassara's eyes searched mine, the initial anger giving way to a mix of confusion and hurt. “But why would she want to trick me? I don’t understand.” Her voice trembled slightly, the vulnerability in her tone tugging at my heart.

“Sanna enjoys causing a bit of chaos,” I explained, my thumb gently stroking her cheek. “It's her way of testing newcomers, of seeing how they react. It’s nothing personal, my pet. Just her twisted sense of humor.”

Cassara’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though the hurt lingered in her eyes. “I don’t like being made a fool of,” she admitted softly.

I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her in a comforting embrace. “You are no fool, Cassara. You are strong and smart. Sanna's tricks mean nothing compared to your strength. She will learn that in time.”

Her body melted into mine, the tension slowly easing away. “I just want to fit in here, Astarion. It’s all so new and overwhelming.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there for a moment. “You will find your place here, I promise. And I will be here with you every step of the way.”

She nodded against my chest, her breathing evening out as she took comfort in my words. “Thank you,” she whispered, the gratitude in her voice making my heart swell.

She shifted her position so she faced me, straddling my lap, and I felt myself freeze underneath her. What was she— My thoughts were cut off as she blinked up at me through her long lashes with a look that could only equate to that of a small, innocent animal. A look that stirred many conflicted feelings and thoughts within me. When I saw her teeth begin to nibble at her bottom lip, I couldn’t hold back any longer. My hands found her waist almost immediately. “Pet, you are treading dangerous waters.”

“I just have a question,” she began, blatantly ignoring my warning. “Would it be possible for me to see Caty again? I’m sure she’s worried.”

My grip tightened around her at her question, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. “That is up to you, my sweet. I can arrange it if needed, but I need you to be prepared for what might happen.” I couldn’t help but think back to my own personal experience of trying to reconnect with old friends. They had told me they’d sooner drive a stake through my heart than converse with me anymore—not that Cazador would have let me anyway.

Cassara’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hope mingled with apprehension. “What do you mean, what might happen?”

I sighed, my thumb tracing soothing circles on her waist. “When you see someone from your past, especially someone who hasn’t been through what you have, their reaction can be... unpredictable. They might not understand what you’ve become, or worse, they might fear you.”

Her expression grew troubled, and she lowered her gaze, her fingers absently playing with a loose thread on my shirt. “I just... I miss her. She was my best friend. She deserves to know I’m okay.”

I cupped her chin, lifting her face to meet mine. “And she will know, but you must be ready for whatever her reaction might be. You need to be strong, for both your sake and hers.”

She nodded slowly, determination flickering in her eyes. “I understand. I just want to see her, even if it’s just once. I need to know she’s okay too.”

I leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Very well, my sweet. I will make the arrangements.”

My gaze stayed on her as her hands found my chest, her palms resting lightly against the bare skin my open shirt displayed. I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. In all of my sexual escapades, I was the one in control, relying on manipulation tactics to ensure my survival. To be in this position with someone who might actually care for me was an unfamiliar feeling. It left me feeling vulnerable but in a way I never thought possible. Her soft lips pressing against mine pulled me from my thoughts, and I held back a surprised moan. She shifted to pull herself flush against me, and in doing so, she brushed against my hardening cock. The noise her actions produced from me was something I couldn’t replicate if I tried—a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from the very core of my being.

Cassara's lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she felt my reaction. Her fingers traced delicate patterns across my chest, sending shivers down my spine. “Astarion,” she whispered, her voice a seductive purr that made my heart race. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

Her words ignited a fire within me, a longing that went beyond mere physical desire. It was as if she could see through the layers of my carefully constructed facade, reaching the vulnerable man beneath. I couldn’t help but be drawn to her, my hands finding her waist and pulling her even closer. “Cassara,” I breathed, my voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. “Then show me,” she murmured, her breath hot against my skin. “Let me in, Astarion.”

Her invitation was both exhilarating and terrifying. I had spent so long guarding my heart, hiding my true self from everyone. But with Cassara, I wanted to take that risk, to let her see the man behind the mask. My hands moved to her hips, guiding her movements as she shifted in my lap. The friction between us was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation. As our lips met again, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. I felt her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if she couldn’t bear to be apart from me. The intensity of our connection was overwhelming, and I found myself losing control, surrendering to the feelings she evoked in me.

When we finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. “I’ve never felt like this before,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel...alive.”

Cassara’s eyes softened, her expression filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “You are alive, Astarion,” she said softly. “And you deserve to feel loved.”

I froze. It was as if my brain short-circuited, and no response graced my mind. The room began to spin, the edges of my vision growing fuzzy. The only thing I could think about was getting away. I gently but firmly moved Cassara off my lap, my hands trembling. “I...I need some air,” I muttered, barely able to get the words out. The weight of her words, the sheer vulnerability they implied, was too much for me to process. I stumbled towards the door, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The walls seemed to close in on me, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Cassara called out to me, her voice tinged with concern. “Astarion, wait! Please, talk to me.”

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t face her, couldn’t confront the whirlwind of emotions she had stirred within me. I needed space, needed to regain my composure. As I stepped into a back corridor, the cool air hit my face, providing a small measure of relief. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to steady my breathing. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, each beat reverberating in my ears like the echo of a death knell. The corridor around me seemed to shift and warp, the walls narrowing as if trying to suffocate me. I felt the crushing weight of countless years of manipulation, the ghostly presence of Cazador’s control tightening its grip around my throat. I clutched at my chest, gasping for breath, my vision blurring as panic overtook me. Memories I had long tried to bury surged to the surface, each one a sharp blade cutting through my mind. Cazador’s cruel voice echoed in my ears, reminding me that I was nothing more than a tool, a pawn in his twisted games. His face, twisted in a sadistic smile, loomed before me, the image so vivid it felt real. The idea of being loved, of being worthy of love, felt like a cruel joke, a dream too fragile to hold onto.

I sank to the floor, my back against the cold stone wall, my mind a tumultuous storm of doubt and longing. The thought of letting Cassara in, of allowing her to see the broken parts of me, was terrifying. My breaths came in shallow, erratic bursts, each one a struggle against the invisible chains that seemed to tighten around my chest. I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to force the memories away, but they only grew stronger, more insistent. The hallway felt like it was closing in on me, the darkness pressing against my vision. My fingers dug into the stone floor, searching for some anchor, something to hold onto. The past and present blurred together, and for a moment, I was back in Cazador’s lair, his voice taunting me, his touch a constant reminder of my powerlessness.

I stayed there, curled up on the cold floor, for what felt like an eternity. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the chains I thought I had broken but still felt. Alone in the corridor, I was a prisoner of my own mind, grappling with a past that refused to let me go and a future that seemed uncertain and terrifying. Finally, I forced myself to stand, using the wall for support. The world was still spinning, but I had to move, had to get away from the suffocating confines of the castle. I stumbled through the halls, my thoughts a chaotic swirl, needing the solace of the night air to clear my mind. Cassara’s words echoed in my ears, a haunting reminder of what I had been given and what I was so afraid to lose.

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