#I can breathe because it was Hell to wait for this email

[thebroken--soul]

GOT SELECTED FOR TAYLOR SWIFT IN PARIS 🤩🙌🏻

[formula-nyoom]

Grid Graduation

Platonic!Grid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being a racecar driver and actively pursuing a higher education is a feat in and of itself. You didn't let your career get in the way of going to college. But when racing seems to prevent you from attending your graduation ceremony, your fellow drivers decide to take matters into their own hands

A/N: Congratulations to all the people that are graduating this month or next month! I hope you guys have amazing celebrations. And to my fellow college students who still have a year or years left to go, we’re going to get through it, even if it seems like hell. I know that the color of the graduation gowns can vary by college or are usually black but I went with dark blue because that was the color of my gown when I got my associates degree. 

~~~

Some people would say it's stupid to try and get a bachelor’s degree while being a race car driver. 

“You already have a career. Why would you spend all your free time off track pursuing something you don’t really need?” is the question that was constantly asked to you during interviews. Your answer: because it was important to you. It’s common knowledge that karting and racing takes up most of a driver’s life. And while most drivers are able to pursue basic schooling and education during their karting days and early single seater days, once a driver makes it higher up the racing ladder, pursuing an education becomes second to trying to be the best race car driver on track. 

You on the other hand felt that your pursuit of racing should not get in the way of your education. And thankfully with the ability to take online classes, you didn’t have that worry. 

“You’ve refreshed that page five times in the last 30 seconds.” Alex said as you two sat in the drivers lounge. It was media day so thankfully neither of you had to worry about racing and instead your worry was focused on something else.

 “Can you blame me? I’m supposed to get sent an email that tells me whether or not I graduate today and I’m dying to know.” You said, refreshing the page again. You had finally completed all the required courses you needed to graduate and get your bachelors degree. Now you were just waiting for the confirmation that all the hard work, all the study sessions you had done between and after races, and all the all nighters was worth it. 

 “Have you gotten the email yet?” You looked up from your laptop to see Logan approaching with Oscar behind him. You refreshed the page again.

 “Nope. Still nothing.” You let out a frustrated sigh. All the other drivers knew about your pursuit of a college education while also being a race car driver. They had been nothing but supportive in your efforts and could tell how worried you were about having to wait for your college’s final decision on you graduating.

 “The email will come eventually. Staring at the screen isn’t going to help.” Oscar said. 

“I suppose you’re right.” You said, refreshing the page again. You were about to close your laptop, putting the matter temporarily to rest, when the page loaded and showed you had a new email. It was from your college.

 “It’s here!” You exclaimed. You were about to open the email when you paused your finger over the mouse pad.

“I don’t think I can open this. What if they deny me? Or what if this email tells me that I still have some courses that I need to pass to graduate?” You started nervously chewing on your bottom lip as worst case scenarios started to run through your head. Logan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder

 “(Y/N), you’ve been working your ass off the past couple years to get this degree. They’d be stupid to not let you graduate.” Logan said. 

 “I can read the email for you first if you want.” Alex offered. That seemed to calm your nerves. You handed Alex the laptop and waited with bated breath as he opened the email. Anticipation started to build as it seemed to take forever for Alex to read the first line of the email

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate!” Alex exclaimed.

 “Really?” You grabbed the laptop and read the first line of the email that did indeed confirm that you were graduating. Logan and Oscar started to shake your shoulders in excitement as you started to laugh from happiness.

 “I’m graduating!” You exclaimed. Logan, Alex and Oscar let out cheers of excitement as you read the first lines of the email again.

“What’s with the excitement?” Charles asked as he and Max entered the driver’s lounge.

 “(Y/N) got the confirmation that she’s graduating college.” Alex said.

“Congratulations!”Max said. He ruffled your hair while Charles gave you a hug. You were practically beaming with happiness as you started to read the email out loud. 

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate! We commend you for this amazing accomplishment and we’d like you to attend the graduation ceremony on….June 7th.” Your voice trailed off after reading the date and your smile slowly started to drop.

 “Are you gonna go?” Oscar asked. You shook your head.

“I can’t. We’ll all be in Canada for Free Practice.” You said. It was true. Your college’s graduation ceremony was the same week of the Canadian Grand Prix.

 “Do you think your team will let you go?” Alex asked. “I mean, you’ve done Canada multiple times and you’ll do it again. But you only really graduate college once, especially considering you're a race car driver.”

 “I don’t think (Y/N)’s team will let her go. Free Practice isn’t something you can really miss.” Max said. He was right. Attending a graduation ceremony seemed like a trivial matter compared to your career. 

 “But (Y/N)’s worked so hard for this. Surely her team will understand.” Logan said.

“No, it’s…it’s ok if I miss the graduation ceremony. I’ve been given confirmation that I’m graduating and will get my diploma in the mail later this year. That’s enough for me.” You told them. But that wasn’t really true. You would have liked to attend the ceremony. If not for just the celebration but also for the sense of normalcy away from the racetrack and responsibilities of being a Formula One driver. 

 “Well we can still celebrate right? Maybe get all the drivers together for a dinner?” Charles suggested. You smiled a bit.

 “Yea Charles. A dinner would be nice. This is still a cause for a celebration. Even if I can’t go to the official one.”

Dinner with the other drivers was a nice celebration. It helped you forget about not being able to attend the graduation ceremony for a while. But the week of the Canadian Grand Prix seemed to bring up that fact again. It seemed the media wanted to remind you too.

 “Well, before we start taking questions, I’d like to say congratulations to you, (Y/N). It was recently let known that you’ve graduated college and now have a bachelor's degree.” The media commentator for the drivers press conference said to you as you sat on a couch next to George, Lando, Lewis, and Zhou. 

“Thank you. If I didn't have to be here in Canada, I'd actually be attending the graduation ceremony, which is happening tomorrow. But racing takes priority.” You smiled to hide some of your disappointment, but the other drivers seemed to notice.

 “I’m sure you and your family are proud of all your efforts. Maybe some of the drivers too?” The interviewer said, motioning to the drivers next to you.

“I’m insanely proud of (Y/N) for what she’s accomplished. She’s shown that racing shouldn’t get in the way of pursuing an education.” Lewis said.

 “I will say, (Y/N) has worked harder than anyone else on the grid.” Zhou said. 

“She won’t admit it herself though.” George said, nudging your side. You shook your head.

“In terms of something like this, even if I can’t attend a graduation ceremony, I’m proud of all the work I’ve done.” You said.

 “Well, I hope you celebrate or have already celebrated what is an immense accomplishment.” The interviewer said.

 “Me and the other drivers on the grid actually went out to dinner to celebrate the day I found out I was graduating to make up for the fact that I can’t attend the ceremony. It was a really nice dinner and I’m glad I have friends to celebrate my accomplishments with.” You smiled at your friends sitting next to you. They smiled back, but for a different reason. 

Despite your efforts to hide your disappointment, your fellow drivers could tell how upset you were about not being able to attend your graduation ceremony. And while the dinner was indeed nice, they wanted you to have a proper celebration for such an immense accomplishment.

That’s how George and Lando ended up knocking on your driver’s room door after interviews and media responsibilities were done for the day.

 “Hey guys. What’s up?” You asked as you opened the door for them.

“Put this on.” Lando handed you a bag with what you assumed had to contain clothing.

 “Why? What is it that you have handed me?” You gave him a skeptical look.

“Open the bag and find out.” Lando said. You did as he instructed and pulled out something made of dark blue fabric. At first you thought it was a dress, but unfurling it revealed to be a graduation gown. You tried not to frown. The only need for something like this would be for graduation photos, which you had already taken. But Lando and George were insistent and you decided to amuse their idea for now and put it on.

“Now what? You want me to get into a race car and drive around the track in a graduation gown?” George and Lando just laughed.

 “I don’t think the FIA will allow that. At least not in just the gown.” Lando said.

“Of course you can’t have the gown without the cap.”  George handed you a graduation cap with a tassel in your team color. The cap was decorated with a little race car on top that had a diploma trailing behind it. 

 “What’s…what’s all this for?” You asked, while putting the cap on. You don’t know why you decided to put the cap on, but did so anyway.

“It’s for your graduation ceremony of course.” Lando said. You frowned.

 “There’s no way I can attend that ceremony.” You said.

“We’re not talking about your college’s graduation ceremony. We’re talking about the one that’s happening right now.” George said. “Come on.”

George and Lando ushered you out of your driver’s room and started to lead you somewhere. You still looked at them with confusion. 

 “We already celebrated during that dinner.”

“But it wasn’t a proper ceremony.” Lando said, leading you towards the track entrance. By now, you were starting to suspect what George and Lando were up to. It wasn’t confirmed until they led you to the start line.

“You guys did not….” Rows and rows of chairs were set up on the track with a makeshift aisle in the middle. Each chair was filled with one of your fellow drivers or members of your team. Tears started to well up in your eyes at the realization of what was happening. 

 “We wanted you to have a proper graduation ceremony.” Lando said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a side hug. Now you were trying really hard not to cry.

 “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting for you.” George said. He and Lando walked you past all chairs, the drivers and team members applauding you as you walked past. 

Lewis and Fernando were standing at what was designated the stage and greeted you with a hug and a whispered “congratulations” as you approached. 

 “Shall we get started then?” Lewis, who had been designated the commencement speaker, said to get everyone’s attention. Everyone quieted down and took a seat

“We are gathered here to recognize the immense accomplishments of (Y/N) (L/N) in her pursuit of a higher education in the form of a bachelor's degree. Not only has she strived for what many have wanted to achieve, but did so while also managing the life of a Formula One driver. That is something not many can do.” Lewis said.

 “I now ask for Fernando to present the graduate with their diploma.” Fernando walked over to you and handed you a piece of paper, then the two of you shook hands as formality of a traditional graduation ceremony while George quickly snapped a photo. You looked at the “diploma” that was handed to you and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was a diploma template that you could find on the internet that included your name and the name of your college. Though the official seal had your team logo on it. 

“I now ask the graduate of 2024, to move your tassel from right to left and signify your newfound graduation status.” Lewis said. By now, it was getting really hard to try and keep the tears in as you moved the tassel from right to left. Lewis smiled.

 “It is my pleasure to present (Y/N) (L/N) as the grid’s graduating class of 2024.” Everyone stood up and applauded you. At this point you couldn’t keep the tears in any longer and started to cry but also cheer. Lewis pulled you into a hug, followed by Fernando, then Lando and George and it got to the point of just being a big group hug full of drivers.

 “Go on, toss the cap!” Logan exclaimed once the group hug broke away. Chants of “Toss it! Toss it!” started to echo till you took the graduation cap off and tossed it into the air, signifying that all that hard work was worth it.

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[chocum]

yea tattoo artist choso but .. what abt tattoo artist geto

congrats on 1k btw!

eee thank youuuu 🙈🙈 i’m souuurrr happy you requested geto bc i’ve been wanting to write abt other characters. AND THISS got out of hand lollll ( 1.5k ) idk what came over me i just word vomited all over my phone… & it’s unedited

— tattooartist!geto x reader // mentions of smoking, m masterbation, fleshlight, cum eating, kinda pervy geto idk he tells reader to take her shirt off when she doesn’t need to so, nipple play, v in p, mentions of overstim, creampiee

suguru geto is one of the most, if not the most popular tattoo artists in your area— hell, probably even farther than that. just to book an appointment, there’s a waitlist not including the months and months he’s already booked for. so when you finally get that confirmation email after waiting for what felt like years, you physically jump up, rushing to get ready and go to the parlor

“i don’t have anyone today under that name, sorry”

suguru pushes a strand of silk black hair behind his pierced ears, the dragon tattoo on his hand moving as he does so almost like it’s taunting you.

“what? i got an email today i just-” your hand reaches into your purse slacked over your shoulder to pull out your phone and prove your appointment was today, but when you go back to check, heat spreads across your cheeks faster than ever.

the date said next month

“ya had the right day i’ll give you that” and he’s laughing. not at you but because you’re cute, he thinks. pouting, growing hot from embarrassment. “i’ll tell you what..”

he leans in and you can smell the smoke that lingers on his breath mixing like some sort of love potion with his musky cologne, his pierced eyebrow quirking, browned eyes staring into yours with puffy lips wet from licking, “i can squeeze you in tomorrow. was supposed to have an off day but ill help a pretty girl like you out, how’s that sound?”

and you’ve never nodded faster. smile pulling at your glossed lips, drawing his to get trapped underneath his teeth.

“here i’ll give you my number, i’ll text you the time ‘n stuff later”

with that, you leave his parlor, your number scribbled on the back of some old receipt next to your name and a heart.

geto’s no better than a man. no better. he goes home that night and texts you as soon as he’s tucked into bed.

hey this is suguru btw.

your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and you smile at the notification. it almost felt unreal, someone who felt so unreachable, someone like geto in your phone, texting you first.

hey!

he catches himself smiling at the message too, his mind trailing back to seeing your pretty face when you walked into the parlor. the way you looked around doe-eyed like a little deer in headlights. looked innocent, and he liked that. maybe a little too much, his dick twitching against the fabric of his boxers.

he only talked to you for a few minutes. barely even held a conversation, but god did you look good. can’t blame him for getting like this.

what time is good for you? like i said, im supposed to be off but had no plans so any time is fine.

your thumbs dance across your keyboard as you think of what to say in response. you’re nervous. and if you knew he was jerking his cock, you’d be even more. his hand slowly .. very slowly rubbing his leaky tip, his head full, overflowing and bubbling with thoughts of you. what are you doing right now? are you in bed too? squeezing his warm balls, cupping them, teasing himself, imagining it’s your sweet little hands.

is 6 pm okay?

the little buzz drags him from his thoughts.

yea. see you then, pretty.

the simple little pet name makes you feel like you’re going to explode. so warm all over your body, and you wish you could just time travel to the next day and see him already.

geto brings the palm of his large hand to his face, lolling his tongue out to lick long stripes on it, shivering at the feeling of his own piercing before wrapping around the base of his thick cock, stroking himself only two times. this won’t do.

he reached for the pocket pussy he keeps nested deep in his drawer. leaning over to let spit fall and dribble into the clear toy before rubbing it on his tip.

groaning, “shiiiiittt” his hips bucking up as he slowly lets it sink down— body twitching at the feeling of all the little bumps and ridges massaging his sensitive cock.

“fu- fuck juuuust like that, mhhhm”

imagining he’s inside your tight little walls, squishing him like he’s meant for you, snug and tight like a puzzle piece.

his chest heaved with every snap of his wrist, spit sinking out and ringing out the base of his cock leaking down to his heavy balls, “feel so fucking good baby”

so fast he’s already shooting into the toy, whining because it’s not you. wishing it was you, your warm walls probably feel so much better. probably sound so cute taking him from behind or from the front, your eyes locked onto his.

he came so much it’s leaking all over himself. so messy and dirty and he brings the toy up and licks it all out, shoving his tongue inside the rubbery walls to flick and clean it up.

“shit”

the next day came too slowly. to you but especially to suguru. he went to the parlor an hour earlier to open and tidy up, pulling his raven locs into a ponytail, letting a few stray strands fall and frame his face, counting each and every second.

and then he hears it. the little ding as the door opens, you push it open smiling up at him as you walk through and you look even better than he remembered. and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure.

he nods at you, giving you a small smile, “so what did you want to get, and where?”

at your reply he freezes, his hands almost crumbling up the paperwork he reached for you to fill out — “my chest”

“your chest?”

he parrots you. then he repeats it in his head a few more times. picturing you pull your little top up.

he can tell you’re not wearing a bra with how your nipples perk up and poke through the flimsy, almost see-through fabric.

you nod your head, mhm sounding and bubbling past your lips.

god, you’re going to be the death of him.

after you finish with all the paperwork, he pulls you into the back making small talk asking about your day. and you indulge, asking back, finding comfort in the normality of your conversation. he’s different from what people painted him out to be and you felt relaxed in his presence.

even more when he offers you a seat, cleaning it off before slipping on some black gloves. his hands almost bulge out, his knuckles poking through the latex.

“can i see the design?”

you pull up the picture on your phone and he hums, “and you said your chest, right?”

again he repeats it, almost as if it’s a mantra he’s using to calm his nerves. calm his dick.

you just nod, “do i need to take my shirt off?”

and well no you don’t, not yet at least, but he says yes, reaching forward to do it for you because he’s just so sweet, right? so nice and caring, and welcoming.

and he only wraps his lips around your tits to soothe you, right? sucking, letting his teeth sink into the buds, the silver ball tracing over them. his other glove-clad hand cupping them.

sinks his cock into you just cause he wants to take care of you, right? he could tell you wanted it soo bad. your thighs pressing together so tightly when he pressed his lips against your chest with a soft, “suguru please”

“mhm let me take care of you, pretty girl, spread em, hold yourself open f’me— uh huh, juuust like that.”

your little arms shake and tremble, hooking around the back of your knees as he pushes into your tight cunt. and fuck, he was right. feels so much better than his toy.

“fuuuckk found your spot, baby, ‘s right there? yeah feel good right there?” he rolls his hips up, brushing against that spot, his thick tip kissing it, making your body twitch.

“yes— fuck yes feels so good”

right about you sounding so fucking good too— his cock twitching inside the solitude of your pretty slimy walls. shivering at how you suck and milk him so well, so tight and warm. so fucking warm. feels so good he’s already close, but he wants to keep making you feel good, keep hearing you, and if he was to fuck his cum into you, overstimulating his needy cock to do that, then so be it.

“inside” you whine out at how he twitches, his stokes sputtering and faltering as he languidly pushing into your sopping pussy, leaking all over him, so wet.

“ohh — fuck ohfuck” and it pushes him over the edge, bottoming out to overfill you, make you nice and creamy ‘cause you deserve it. deserve it for being so good, making him feel so good.

letting his head fall onto your shoulder sweat sprinkling his forehead as he empties himself for you. for your pretty pussy, all for you.

[spacebaby1]

Rindou Haitani's Girlfriend

Ran might get himself a girl that matches his freak on napping for 11 hours, but Rindou will absolutely get the humorous girlfriend.

The first time he met you was in 🎀police station 🎀he was 12 and had just gotten arrested with his brother Ran, who was 13 then. You sat with the handcuffs on, kicking your feet looking around and being so calm it made him question how the hell were you so calm. You just turned 12, and it was a day before your birthday party. The moment you noticed the as the police officer let him and ran sit on one of the chairs opposite from you, you waved at him with a smile. The officer went to write the report, and you got up from your chair and walked to sit next to them. "Nice hair!" You told Ran, "That's not a wig, right?" Ran laughed, shaking his head, and Rin rolled his eyes at you. "Why are a kid like you doing here?" Rin asked, "Oh, I just wanted to know how handcuffs feel like that's why I busted the cops car window to get arrested." You said with a smile, "No shit, are you crazy?" Ran laughed. "Aren't you too little to be arrested?" Rin asked, and you shrugged, "I'm twelve, I'm actually twelve tomorrow and I'm having a birthday party, hey, wanna come to my birthday party?" You told Rin with a soft smile. He felt his cheeks burn, and then you turned to look at Ran, "if you want, I'll write you the address." Ran just laughed, "you're one crazy girl. Happy birthday, by the way." Rin sighed, "Happy birthday, whatever." You laughed, "Aww, thank you, I'm Y/n!" Ran turned his side to face you now because he thought you were interesting, "I'm Ran, and this is Rindou. My baby brother." You smiled in an aww. That was the last time Rin saw you.

Five years later; he saw you again. Rin had just gotten some serious job done and was heading back home, walking under the cold nights with snow all over the streets. His eyes on his phone screen; reading an email Ran sent him when someone sprinted past him. He didn't bother to look until he heard the footsteps stop, and someone called out his name, made him almost jump. "RINRIN?" He turned back ready to attack whoever called him with hands in front of him and his heart almost stopped when he saw a girl, no, he saw you waving as you ran towards him happily? You caught your breath as you stopped in front of him, titling your head to side, "it's me! Y/n! Remember me the girl from the police station? Oh, that's funny to say." He blinked a few times before speaking and looking at your clothes that were not warm at all. You were dressed in a white shirt and baggy jeans with a weird hat that looked too big for your head. "Yeah, I remember you. You weirdo, why are you dressed like that in the middle of December? Are you trying to die?" He asked, rolling his eyes as he took his heavy sweater off and threw it over you. Making you laugh as you removed the sweater from your head, revelling your smile that made his breath hitch. "I'm jogging trying to run a mile and trying to find out if I can define the cold." He sighed, taking his sweater from your hand and putting your hands in it, then the other, "Yeah, define the devil when you die from cold and get thrown in hell." You laughed at his words. You looked behind him, "Where's your brother? Does he still have his long hair? Wait, your hair kinda looks cool!" Rin rolled his eyes, "you still remember him too. You shouldn't be out at this time of night all alone. You don't know what type of people are out here." You shrugged, taking your phone out and snatched his from his hand, "I'll save my number in your phone, here call me so I can save yours." You handed him the phone and waited for him to call. He looked at him phone then back at you and called. Your face lights up when your phone rang, and you waved it at him with a giggle, "I'll see you soon. Bye bye" you said before walking the other way.

Rin would lie if he said he didn't wait a whole day for you to call. He kept checking his phone every other minute. It's been a whole day now, and you still haven't called. Maybe you didn't care. It was around 12 at night when his phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the name, "RIN RIN!" He sat from where he was sleeping on the bed. "Y/n?" You laughed at his question, "Duh, who else would it be?" He tried to hide his stupid smile even if you weren't there to see it, "Why you calling me this late?" He tried to sound annoyed, but you laughed again. "I couldn't sleep, saw a really scary movie now I'm regretting life and I can't even get up to pee what if the lady with white dress attacks me in the bathroom?" He chuckled at your words rolling his eyes. "And you want me to do what?" He replied. "Stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep!" You replied excitement in your voice, and he felt his face burning; don't couple do these kinds of things? He thought. Nevertheless, he didn't mind staying on the call as you rambled about random things. He could hear you trying hard to stay awake by the time it was 3 in the morning so he decided to be the one talking as you just replied in a hum, he talked in a low voice until he heard you snoring softly on the other side of the call. He chuckled, "idiot. Sleep well." He whispered before putting his phone beside him still on the call.

When you decided to return his sweater, he "forgot" to tell Ran that you were coming honestly he kept asking Ran if he has to be somewhere so when you'll arrive you won't see Ran. Rin wasn't jealous. He's just Rin. Ran heard the bell rang and went to answer the door, "Yes?" He asked when he saw you; at first, he didn't recognise you until you smiled, throwing your hands open, "Ran!" His eyes widened, and he smiled, "Oh shit, it's my favourite prisoner! Come here. " He pulled you up in a hug, and you laughed, "Oh, look at you all grown up. How did you?-, wait, RIN? Y/N IS HERE!" Rin tried to act unbothered when he saw his brother wrap you in a hug, "I met Rin last week, and I came by to return his sweater." Ran looked at his brother, wiggling his brows as you walked behind Ran, Rin rolled his eyes, "she was jogging in a shirt and jeans, " Rin stated. You handed him the bag that had his sweater, and it smelled like you. "So Rin has been gatekeeping you from me? And look at you, you look so beautiful now. You've grown so much!" Ran said, holding your hands as he sat on the couch, and you were standing in front of him. He nodded with a smile, "Your hair changed. It's black here. Looks so cool." You said pointing at his hair, "thanks Gorgeous." You snorted at his compliment, "stawppp, you're making me blush." Ran pulled you to the couch beside him, "come sit with me. How have you been?wow, I can't believe you look so beautiful." Rin groaned, "you said that like a million times since she got here. It's been a minute." You laughed at the two brothers. Ran pinched your cheek, "No more jail, ha?" You shook your head freeing yourself from his grip. "No, sir." You said. Rin watched from where he stood at you talking with his brother. He wanted you to talk to him and sit this close to him.

You'd often run into each other on your way, and you'd always cling to Rin's arm, and he really didn't get bothered by it.

Late night calls were a regular thing. Rin would always wait for you to call him and ramble.

Until one night, you didn't call, nor has he seen you for two days in a row. He was working on a file when the bell ran at 1 am, he thoughts it's probably some random person that will go away ringing the bell on a rainy night but it ran again and he was ready to deal with whoever it was flinging the door open just when he was about to shout. Rin's heart dropped at the sight of you in tears, and you looked distressed as you hugged him crying. He's never seen you cry, and his mind went blank the moment he saw you crying and a small bruise on your lip immediately anger filled his eyes as he shut the door moving you in with him. "Who did this to you?" He asked, and you cried, "my boyfriend hit me." Let's just say that "boyfriend" now ex, apparently lost an arm the next day.

That night, Rin didn't let you leave his sight as he made you change into much comfortable pyjamas of his that looked way too big on you. He even dried your hair after the shower. You were tired, so he let you sleep in his bed, covering you with all his soft blankets as he went back to grab his laptop to work on a file. He sat beside the bed working when you moved in your sleep, brows frowned, he placed his hand on yours hushing you softly and You grabbed his hand in sleep pulling it closer to your heart. Rin's eyes widened, and he flustered, but he also knew you probably needed comfort after whatever you bo-ex did.

Rin didn't want you to leave him or the house when you can be here, safe. And you got used to his care that you just clung on him EVERYWHERE he went; he really didn't mind. It took you a few days to go back to your normal self, joking around and making Rin smile at your words, but it KILLED him every time he'd see that scar under your mouth. He wanted to KILL your ex, but you've long moved on.

You two didn't even make it official that you two liked each other it just happened. None of you asked the other if you'd date each other, but Rin would break anyone's hand if they even looked at you.

One day, you were liying on his lap on the couch watching TV, and you turned to look at him, "Are you my boyfriend?" You asked, making his face turn different shades of red, but he tried to look confident and looked down at you, "Yes?" That came out shaky. You nodded and went back to watching the TV only to get off his lap and cuddle his arm beside him; oh, you loved holding his arm and placing your face on his shoulder. You'd find different positions to sit near him, and each one never fails to surprise him. You got up and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his middle part and snuggling into him or you'd sit upside down on the couch beside him to which he always grabs you and pulls you on his lap with your head on his chest. "Hushh, sit still. I'm trying to watch this." You'll always fall asleep in his arms he's just that comfortable to you.

You have to hug his arms every time you sleep. And he just stares at you with a smile, glad that he saw you that day in the police station.

He's only soft for you and does everything you want and deserve, which is not much because you barely ask him anything other than his skilled cooking.

You are dear to him.

[gothcsz]

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

girl i'd subscribe so fast

oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

p.s. if you’re into pornstar!javi you should check this out 🖤

look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[kpop---scenarios]

Charmer (2)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader x Surprise!

Genre: FWB, EX FWB, Semi Enemies to Lovers

Warning: Smut, late night smut and hurt. [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @oddracha @iovecb97 @katsukis1wife @stay-tiny-things @rubytakemyhandx23 @hyunjinhoexxx @iikxstcenn @beebee18 @kissesmellow21 @skzooluvr @felixthemochicat @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@gloriajovicc

One |

“Y/N!” Jihyo and Jeongin call out, chasing after you as you speed walk away from the bar, muttering to yourself so much that passerbys stare at you like you're crazy.

“Please stop, Y/N!” Jeongin calls out. You can hear him struggling to breathe as he and Jihyo chase you, and you feel bad. It wasn't them that you were angry at. It was Minho. You stop dead in your tracks, hanging your head down as you silently let your tears fall. You can feel a couple sets of hands on your back and they come around the front, pulling you into their two person hug.

“I'm so sorry Y/N.. I never wanted you to get hurt, I just needed you to know.” Jihyo whispers, holding you closer.

“None of us wanted this to happen.” Jeongin sighs. “I personally always thought that you and Minho were going to end up together.”

So did you, honestly but you didn't want to admit that. If you said it out loud, you were sure that it was going to make you cry and you did not want to waste anymore tears on him. He didn't deserve your tears or your love. And even though you knew that, you wanted him to reach out to you. You wanted him to call you a beg for you back, that he realized what a mistake it was to date her, that you were it all along.

So you waited.

Everyday for the next few weeks you checked your phone consistently, waiting for a call, maybe a text, an email.. something, really anything. But nothing came. For weeks it was radio silence on his end and you weren't about to go ahead and make the first move. He was the one who messed up, not you. So you continued to wait. You'd go out with your mutual friends, hoping to see him there, but he wasn't. Hell, even if he was there with whatever her name was, that would do because at this point you missed his face. You missed his voice, his touch, you missed the way you felt around him and you were desperately craving those feelings.

You had thought about moving on, trying to find someone new but you weren't sure if you were going to be able to do that. You wanted only one person and only that one person knew how to make you quiver in complete ecstasy, you knew it was likely no one else would compare.

That night, four weeks since you had said ‘fuck you’ to Minho, you went to bed, deciding that whether or not you'd ever be able to find someone to make you feel like him, you were going to try. It was time now for you to get out of the hole you were in because of him.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

You're startled awake by the sound of your phone. You look at the clock, 2:30am. Who was calling you so late? Without checking the caller ID, you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You tiredly groan.

“I miss you.” The voice whispers from the other end.

“Minho?” You ask.

“I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm sorry about all the shit I said and what I did that night.” He says. “I need you.” He groans.

“What about your girlfriend?” your voice shakes as you ask, nervous about the answer.

“It wasn't the same as you.” He sighs. “She can't make me feel like you can baby.”

Your heart and head start to race. You know you should hang up and block his number, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

“Did you end it?” You whisper.

He hums in response. That's a yes right? That means he ended things?

The line is silent for a moment before you speak again. “Come over.” You say.

“I'm already here.” He says. “Open up.” You crawl out of your bed, unlocking the door, seeing Minho standing there, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” He smiles, pushing his way in. He immediately leans in to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours as he slides his tongue down your throat. You can smell the familiar cologne as you breathe him in, it makes you feel like everything is gonna be okay. He moves the two of you back, towards the bedroom he knows so well. He strips your pj shirt from your body, throwing it wherever as you also take his shirt off, discarding it. He pulls away from you, pushing you down on the bed, a smirk appears on those lips you love so much as he crawls on after you, yanking your pj shorts off, throwing them behind him. He lays down, his face between your thighs, diving straight into sucking and flicking your clit. You cry out loudly, moaning his name. “Fuck, Minho.” You can hear him chuckle into your cunt before he licks a long strip up you, making you even more wet.

Minho shoves two fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out as he teases your clit making you twitch beneath him. He holds you down with his free hand as he devours you, making you run your hands through your hair before you grab a clump of his hair, pulling his face in closer while you grind on him.

“Fuck.. just like that.. just like that..” you cry out, releasing his hair. You were about to cum, you just needed one more thrust and one more suck to push you over the edge.. but then he sat up. Licking his lips, smiling at you.

“W-w-why? Why Why would you do that!?” You whine.

“That's what happens when you say ‘fuck you, Lee know.’ He smiles, mimicking you from last night.

“Oh my god, that's so not fair.” You whine.

“Don't worry, kitten. You'll get to cum. It's just gonna be on my cock.” He grins, taking his pants off, moving to the edge of the bed to sit against the headboard. His cock stands tall as he waits for you to sit on him and ride him.

Fuck you missed him and his cock.

You crawl over to him, ready to straddle him and sink yourself down onto his cock. But he looks at you seriously. “Beg.”

“What?” You ask.

“Beg for it.” He says again, cocking his head to the side. “You just have to say, ‘please Minho, please let me ride your cock.’ He smiles. “See, it's easy.”

You look him in the eyes, your brain knowing you should tell him to get out but the rest of you wanted him. “Please Minho. Please let me ride your cock.” You whisper.

He smiles at you, pulling you closer to straddle him. “Good girl.” He whispers, thrusting up inside of you, catching you off guard.

“Fuck!” You cry out. You lower yourself, pushing down to have him as far inside you as he could go before you start rocking back and forth, dragging your clit against him as your cum seeps out of you, coating his dick.

“Mhmm, you're so wet for me.” He pants, holding on your hips as he helps guide you between riding and bouncing on top of him. Minho watches the way your breasts bounce while you ride his cock, how you throw your head back, running your hands all over your body as your orgasm builds faster and faster.

Minho sits up a little more, grabbing your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking and nibbling on it, making you moan louder.

“Please.. fuck.. don't stop.” You cry out, you feel like you're about to explode on top of him. “Fuck.” You scream, riding him harder as his fingertips dig into your hips, breathlessly urging for you to cum so he can.

“I'm cum..I'm cumming.. fuck.” You scream out as it bursts through your body, making you slow down your movements as you come down from your high.

“I'm right there.” Minho grunts, holding you up slightly as he harshly rams his cock into you, desperate to cum now. “Fuck.” He yells, as he orgasms, shooting his cum inside of you.

You both sit there for a minute, his cock still buried inside you as you both try to catch your breath.

Once you finally roll off of him, you head straight to the bathroom. “I'm gonna take a quick shower.” You say, turning your head to look at him. He smiles at you as he lays in your bed. This was more like it.

You couldn't have been in the shower longer than 5 minutes before you were out and in your bedroom, and Minho was not in there. You dried yourself off, putting on your pj's again as you wander around your apartment and he's nowhere to be found. Fuck, he could have at least waited until you were sleeping.

You crawled into your bed, sadness washing over you as you closed your eyes, falling asleep quickly and dreaming of that man. The next evening, you were invited to a party by your best friend, Jihyo, who was celebrating the fact that she was failing most of her classes, while also celebrating that her boyfriend Daniel was doing extremely well in his.

“Woohoo.” You smile, hugging her. “You're failing!” You laugh.

“And you're passing! Yay.” You laugh again, hugging Daniel.

“How are you?” Jihyo asks, protruding his bottom lip slightly.

“Don't start.” You laugh. “Drinks, please.” You say, dragging her to the kitchen.

A while later, while the liquor is flowing nicely through your body, you and Jihyo head out to the living room to dance, where you happen to see someone you wanted to see but also didn't.

“Minho.” You sigh, staring at the sexy man, but your tune quickly changes as you see Jennie walking towards him, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her closely.

“Hey, everyone!” He yells. His eyes lock in on yours. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Jennie.” He grins, breaking eye contact a few seconds later. You feel like your throat is going to close up as tears well in your eyes.

“I'm gonna go.” You say to Jihyo. You put your cup down, heading out of the house, feeling shattered. You went to bed that night feeling almost as bad as you did that first night. You tossed and turned until your phone dinged.

[From: XFWB 3:05am] u up?

[To: XFWB 3:05am]....

…

..

.

[To: XFWB 3:07am] doors unlocked.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 15 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica knows Jake is sorry for losing it on Brian, but now she has once again started to dread going to work. Things had been looking up, and she desperately needed that hopeful feeling back. But a chance run-in with Brian's wife and one well timed email might just be the start of something good.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, mention cheating, 18+

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Every day that Jessica woke up and got ready for work felt like she was making herself look presentable for her own execution. She hadn't slept well after Tuesday evening when she went home and cried after Jake punched Brian in the face. He offered to stay with her, but she told him she needed some time to herself. And now she was in a cycle of dreading every minute of work, just like before.

She'd had these soft glimmers of hope over the last few months. She had made a new friend, she had a boyfriend who she was falling in love with, and she absolutely nailed the fraternity fundraiser. Everything was looking so hopeful, but she should have known there was no way she could have it all if Brian was involved. Especially since it looked like he had a broken nose on Thursday morning.

She thought she was going to throw up when he looked at her. Any minute, Dean Walters or someone from his office would be knocking on her door, asking what exactly had possessed her boyfriend to punch the head of the science department.

But it never came. And the anticipation was just making it worse. When she heard someone tapping on her door, her stomach lurched as she sank a little lower in her seat. "Come in," she called out, her voice wavering. When the door eased open, she was surprised to see her friend standing there. "Advanced Calculus," she muttered, leaning back in her seat and taking a deep breath.

"I brought you some coffee," the other woman said as she closed the door behind her. "And I also came to ask you why the hell you didn't tell me that Jake punched Conley in the damn face!"

When Jessica looked at her again, she just shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

She set down the coffee cup and said, "You don't have to talk about it, because I already know all about it, because Jake won't shut up about it to Bradley. He thinks he fucked everything up with you. He thinks you're mad at him."

Jessica let her forehead rest on her desk. If she tried to say she wasn't avoiding Jake, she would be lying. "I think I just need to deal with the repercussions on my own. But I'll text him back." She reached for her phone and looked at the most recent message from him. Hey, Smart Girl. I'd love to bring dinner to your office hours, but only if you want me to.

"Wait. What repercussions?" the other woman asked as she took a seat with her own drink. "You don't think this will fall back on you? Do you?"

"How could it not? Have you seen Brian's face?"

She snorted. "I sure fucking did. I came up here more or less to congratulate you for making Jake fall in love with you so hard that he did that for you."

Jessica's heart pounded in response, and she knew her eyes were wide. Jake hadn't said that to her yet, and she hadn't either, but she felt like it was right there. "He just punched him all of a sudden. I didn't ask him to or anything."

"I know. That's the whole point. He couldn't let someone be shitty to you. I just knew Jake had it in him."

Jessica looked down at her phone again and decided to stop avoiding someone who made her so happy. I would love it if you brought me dinner.

His response came almost instantly, letting her know that he would be there. She felt a little better as she looked at her friend. "Thanks for the coffee." But she waved it off and shrugged. "I also wanted to stop by and tell you that everyone is still talking about your fratraiser. They all loved it."

Jessica wanted to love it, too. It has been the perfect night until Brian showed up. "Thanks. I still want to stop in and talk to Dean Walters about it, but I was trying to wait until things with Brian blew over."

"You should definitely talk to Walters," she replied as she stood to leave.

Jessica was tired of hesitating all the time, so she asked, "Do you want to have lunch together today?"

"Can't," she replied with a grimace. "I promised Dr. Rosenthal that I'd look at curriculum with him again."

"Tenure must be so nice," Jessica replied wistfully. "Not that I'll ever know."

Before she slipped out the door, the other woman said, "I'm still holding out hope, and you should, too."

Hours later, Jessica was still considering those words when she took a little break before the start of her office hours. She had been hiding at her desk, looking for a birthday gift for Jake, when she started yawning. With her office hours spread out like a gauntlet in front of her, she decided to quickly grab another coffee from the lounge. She would need it to get through a tutoring session with Luca.

But as soon as she walked through the door, she was met with Brian, and he had his arm wrapped around the same teaching assistant she saw him with before. The one he was most definitely sleeping with. His face looked terrible as the bruising had spread out from his crooked nose, giving him two black eyes. Jessica was sure the glare he was sending her way must be painful for him at the moment, and she had to try her hardest not to laugh. Apparently he was in full scumbag mode now, because he didn't even bother to separate from the TA as Jessica waffled next to the door, undecided if she should stay and make some coffee or not.

"Did you need something, Dr. Reed?" he snapped, his voice extra nasally.

The mere sound of his tone was enough to make her regret coming down here. "No, actually. I'll just leave you to your...business." She turned and left them, hoping she still had a can of Coke in her mini fridge that would suffice. And that was when she almost ran directly into Sabrina Conley.

Jessica recognized her immediately, and she could tell Brian's wife remembered her as well. A chill rippled along her entire body as she felt the woman appraising her with a hateful scowl. "Are you the reason my husband's face is a mess?" she asked, venom lacing every word. Convinced this week couldn't get any worse, Jessica stood frozen, completely unsure what she should say. Was it her fault? Or was it Brian's? Or maybe it was Jake's fault? She just wanted to hide in her office again and cry.

Sabrina took a step closer, her voice somehow more scathing as she said, "Can you at least tell me where he is?"

Jessica nodded, a jerky motion, as she pointed behind her and said, "In the lounge." It was a few seconds before she fully realized what she had done, and by that point it was too late. Sabrina had already disappeared around the corner, and then Jessica heard an angry shriek.

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

It had been two solid days since Jake saw Jessica, and this was the proof he needed. Seeing her every day had become a necessity. It hurt that she'd distanced herself a little bit after the incident with Brian, even though he could understand that she probably just needed a little space and time. But the irrational side of his brain was running completely wild.

"I fucked up the best relationship I have ever had," he groaned in the locker room on base.

"No, you didn't," Bradley replied with an eye roll. "Or... maybe you did. Maybe Jessica is out on a date with Dev at this very moment."

Jake glared in response. "It's 5:30 on a Thursday. She just finished a lecture, and she's getting ready for her office hours. She's not anywhere with Dev."

Bradley smirked as he got dressed in one of his hideous shirts. "You have her entire schedule memorized. That's so cute."

"You have your wife's entire schedule memorized," Jake retorted.

"That's right. Dr. Tits is finishing up her linear algebra lecture right now which means I can pick her up on my way home. Unless we take a detour to the library," he muttered, and Jake decided to tune him out. He needed to stop home and grab the food he made yesterday in the hope that Jessica would want him to stop by tonight.

He would make this all up to her. If she was somehow in some shit at work because of him, he would have to try to fix it. So he picked up the little individual containers of chicken, mashed potatoes and vegetables along with some ice packs. But his condo was so quiet, he was anxious to leave again. He was hoping Jessica would want to spend the weekend here with him, cooking and reading some journals. Making love and watching a movie. Really anything she wanted to do.

He drove his new truck to campus and parked, knowing he was right in the middle of her office hours and not wanting to intrude if she was working with Luca or someone else. So he went slowly up the walkway past Chippy's and crossed the street to the science building. If he saw Brian, he would stay calm this time. He wouldn't fuck anything up worse for his girlfriend.

When he reached her office, the door was closed, and he heard a soft conversation inside, prompting him to wait his turn. He was hoping it was Luca. He already felt the rage building inside of him over the fact that it could be Brian again. But then the door opened, and a skateboard hit the floor in front of him, and Jake smiled.

As Luca skated away, Jessica launched herself at his chest, and Jake welcomed her, dropping his cooler bag on the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as she buried her face in his neck and held onto him. "I missed you."

"I don't know," she whispered. "I just know I missed you, too." She started backing up, pulling him into her office, and he reached to pick up the bag of food.

When she guided him to her desk chair, he was delighted that she pushed him down before sitting on his thigh. Jake's hands went to her waist, and she came to rest against his chest with a sigh. Maybe she wasn't so upset with him after all.

He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. He'd said it so many times. "I'm sorry I punched him."

"I know you are. It's okay, Jake. Part of me is absolutely delighted that you did that," she told him as she ran her fingers along his name tag. "Because he deserved it." She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, he could barely hear her. "Brian's wife was here today, and she walked in on him alone with one of the department TAs in the lounge. I'm sure it was as obvious to her as it is to me that he's sleeping with her now."

"Shit," he grunted, stroking her jaw with his fingers before brushing them through her hair. "If he got caught again, then he deserved it."

She nodded. "I don't know why I feel guilty that I was the one who told her he was in the lounge."

Jake's fingers froze. "You feel guilty? Baby, the only one who should feel guilty about anything is Brian.""I know that," she whispered. "I do know that. But Sabrina has been through enough, and I've been feeling bad for her for the past year."

She needed a break, and Jake knew it. "That's understandable, but it's still not your fault. I think you should come spend the weekend at my place and let me take your mind off things."

Jessica tilted her face to look at him. "How are you going to do that?"

He kissed her forehead again as he said, "By cooking for you and kissing you and reading journals with you." Her soft moan had him pressing his luck. "We could pick out some journals right now, and I could have them ready for when you come over tomorrow after work. You worked really hard on your fundraiser, and you deserve a break this weekend."

"Jake," she groaned. "That sounds perfect." The fact that she was curling up on him and yawning now let him know she was exhausted. And if Brian's wife was on campus earlier today, then there was a good chance she was upset that her husband's face was all bruised. He needed to take Jessica's mind off of this shit.

"I'll go grocery shopping tonight, and then the whole weekend is whatever you want it to be, Jess."

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

On Friday morning, when she ran down the hallway and into her office, Jessica turned on her computer. While it started up, she grabbed a few more journals from her shelf to take to Jake's place. Her plan was to leave right from campus to spend the weekend with him, her overnight bag already in her trunk. When she logged in to check her university email, she had to read over the newest message three times to believe it.

Dr. Reed, I realize this is very short notice, so please allow me to apologize in advance. Dr. Conley is taking a short leave of absence, and in an effort to keep disruption to a minimum, there is an immediate need for professors who are willing to step in and teach some of his courses. Due to conflicting schedules, you are the only PhD in the science department who can advise his Senior Studies class on Wednesday afternoons. I know this will be an additional workload if you are willing to take it, so we can discuss compensation on Monday. However, if you are willing, please let me know today so I can finalize this schedule. It would be much appreciated. Sincerely, Dean Corbin Walters

"Oh shit," Jessica gasped. Brian was taking a leave of absence? And not only was the dean not upset with her, he was asking her to take one of Brian's classes? "Holy shit." She lunged for her keyboard and typed up a response so quickly, she had to read it three times to fix the spelling errors. Her heart was pounding, because she would have been willing to do this even without the extra compensation.

And now she sat back in her chair, wondering exactly what had happened with Brian's wife. The anticipation was going to eat her alive, but she had a quantum physics lecture to hold. First she added a note to her calendar to call Dean Walters' office and schedule a meeting for Monday.

By the time Jessica was leaving campus on Friday afternoon, she had a meeting scheduled with the dean. She also took the time to update and recalculate all of her grades, and Luca was finally passing. She rode down the elevator with a smile on her face, knowing Brian wasn't on campus, lurking around a corner, ready to give her a hard time. Instead she walked out to her car in her heels with her head held high.

Her stomach was growling, but she knew Jake would feed her all weekend. He would take care of everything. She wouldn't have to scrape together any sad meals or plan her lessons through next semester just for something to do. She was allowed to enjoy herself when she was with her boyfriend. She was allowed to let her feelings grow deeper.

Of course she wasn't disappointed when she knocked on the front door of his condo, and the door swung open to reveal him in an undershirt and gray sweatpants, the smell of something delicious wafting to meet her.

"Baby, you should call me from the parking lot next time," Jake drawled, reaching for her. "It's getting dark outside, and I don't want you walking around alone."

Jessica whimpered as he pulled her inside and locked the door. Of course she thought he was being a little dramatic, but she appreciated him nonetheless. "Okay, next time I'll call you." She barely got the last word out as his lips met hers. Her palm slid over the roughness of the stubble starting to grow in on his cheek before she pushed her fingers back through his hair.

"You're really not upset with me?" he asked softly, eyes closing to her touch.

"No," she promised. "I just needed some time to think about things, but I'm not upset with you."

It was all a seamless motion as Jake scooped her up by her thighs and backed up until he was sitting on his couch with her on his lap. "I missed you," he whispered, squeezing her legs and hips gently.

She laughed as he kissed her neck. "You saw me yesterday."

"It wasn't enough." His voice sounded a little rougher.

She tugged on his hair until his lips were hovering against hers. "It was less than a day ago."

His nose bumped hers as his hands tightened around her waist. "Well apparently I can't go that long, Jessica."

She could feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants, and the more she tugged on his hair, the raspier his voice seemed to get. His green eyes were so pretty and eager, and she wanted him right now. Her skirt was already bunched up on her thighs, so she took his hands in hers and used them to push the fabric the rest of the way up to her waist.

A little smirk formed his lips as she said, "I can't go another minute."

Jake grunted and shook his head before his eyes trailed down to where she knew her rose colored thong was on display for him, and he swiped one long index finger up along her clit. "Jake!" she gasped, grinding down on his cock. He did it again, and she rolled her hips again. "Oh my god."

With one hand, Jake hooked her underwear to the side, and the cool air met her wet core. With his other hand, he tugged himself free of his sweats and his underwear, his thick cock standing at attention for her. She didn't hesitate as she sank down around him, making him groan loudly. One slow roll of her hips, and she was groaning too. Just when she was getting a good rhythm going, her lips met his neck, and his phone alarm started blaring in his pocket.

"Shit," he grunted, stilling her movements with one hand on her butt as he mashed his fingers against his phone screen. "I'm making you a chicken pot pie, and I don't want it to burn." He stood with Jessica fully seated on his cock, and she grabbed at his hair and his neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist, losing one high heel as he walked.

"Fuck! Jake!" she nearly screamed, clenching around him with each step he took.

"Hang on, Baby," he whispered, setting her on the island before turning away from her to reach for his pot holders. She was whimpering for more as soon as he was gone, but she was treated to the sight of him removing the pie from the oven before tossing the pot holders on the floor and rushing back to her, his wet cock bobbing along. "I got you."

He was back where she wanted him with one sharp thrust, and the look of concentration on his face as he worked her up made her smile. "You liked it when I was walking, didn't you?"

All she had to say was, "Yes," and he had her up off the island again. She lost her second shoe as he grinned and walked around the island, rubbing the spot deep inside of her that made her ache with need. "Yes." She was a mess, clinging to him and making ridiculous sounds while he walked her back through the kitchen. And then she was clenching around his cock, with her lips to his ear, but when she saw the dinner he made for her, she came. She whined his name, one long, loud syllable.

Next thing she knew, he had her back pressed up against the refrigerator, magnets clattering to the floor as he got some leverage and thrust into her with all his weight. "Jessica," he growled, nudging her glasses with his nose and squeezing her butt. Then he filled her up with his cum, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half lidded.

Jake kissed along her lips as he murmured, "Let me feed you dinner, Smart Girl. And then we can do anything you want as long as you don't leave my side." --------------------------

Could things be looking up? I mean, Jake can't really be blamed, right? And it looks like scumbag Brian is found out once again. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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[beyondthesefourwalls]

And You Will Find Me

Summary: The last thing Bradley expected when he was assigned to the unofficial “singles without a plus one” table at an old friend’s wedding was to meet who he thinks might just be the love of his life. But that’s exactly what happened. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)  (can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.8K 

Warnings: Language, fluff, love at first sight. 

Notes: Written for @roosterforme's ‘80s Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge, and as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. Song selection is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. 

The Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin first meeting one shot that I’ve been wanting to write since I referenced it in part three of RYEWID. The fact that I could do it for a challenge for one of my favorite people makes it even more exciting for me.  

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Bradley Bradshaw: Table Four 

He grabbed the gold trimmed cardstock with his name on it, sipping on a glass of bourbon as he made his way into the reception hall. It didn’t take long to find his placement with the elaborate centerpieces displaying calligraphic numbers. 

There were only two open seats left at the table, which was occupied by a group of people who were all staring down at their phones. He glanced around the rest of the venue, seeing all of the other tables bustling with conversation and laughter. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the awkward silence that seemed to hang over this one in particular. No one seemed to know each other, and it didn’t look like they planned to make any effort to change that. 

He groaned to himself and wondered, not for the first time, why he had thought attending this wedding was a good idea. 

He hadn’t seen Sean in years, and had never even met Lucy. The two had been roommates for two years at UVA and had somewhat kept up with each other over the years, if only barely. They had always joked about how on the off chance either of them got married, they’d make each other's guest list. Bradley had laughed when he got the invite in the mail. He had waited until the last minute to send in the RSVP, but had ultimately decided why not? He wouldn’t know anyone there, and hadn’t managed to find a date in time, but he hadn’t been to Philly in way too long. He’d make a quick weekend out of it and see an old friend.  

He hadn’t realized until he got into town how awkward going to a wedding on his own would be. 

He sat in one of the empty seats, nodding to the guy on his right who forced a smile that looked just as awkward as it felt before turning his attention back to his phone. 

Bradley was glad he had thought to refill his drink before cocktail hour ended. 

He was scrolling through his phone when he saw a flash of orange out of the corner of his eye at the same time the seat next to him was pulled back. 

He glanced up briefly to offer a quick smile to the new arrival and looked back down at his emails, only to do the quickest double take of his life. His breath caught in his throat and he swore his heart stopped, only to start again three times faster. 

Holy hell. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” you asked, and Bradley had to blink a few times before he realized you were talking to him, because your voice was mesmerizing. 

“All yours,” he managed to say. He would have winced at how his voice cracked if he wasn’t trying to remember how to breathe. You offered a warm smile as you gracefully sat down. You were a vision in a long sleeve, burnt orange dress that looked like it would be silky to the touch. When he glanced down, he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop from groaning when he saw the slit going up the side and the nude heels on your feet. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you were sitting beside him fiddling awkwardly with your place card as he stared at you.

“I’m Bradley,” he finally managed to introduce himself, extending a hand out. You looked at him in surprise. 

“Oh! Hi.” You took his hand with a soft, gentle grip, your eyes locking onto his as a spark went through his whole body. Your eyes widened a fraction and he wondered if you felt it, too. He almost didn’t catch your name when you said it because he was so distracted by the feeling. “So, bride or groom?” 

“What?” 

You laughed softly, and he worried about going into cardiac arrest at the sound. “Are you here for the bride, or for the groom? I assume since you’re at this table it’s either one or the other and not both.” 

“This table?” 

You glanced around at your other tablemates, still busy with doing everything they could not to make eye contact with anyone else. Then you leaned closer to him, and he couldn’t help but do the same. You whispered to him like you were sharing something salacious. “The singles table. The ones who came alone and who wouldn’t know anyone else, and who they’re kind of surprised RSVP’d ‘yes’ to begin with.” 

Bradley let out a loud laugh, and you giggled right along with him. The sound was like music. It earned you both curious and maybe even annoyed looks from all those at your table. He hadn’t considered that before, but now that he thought about it, you were absolutely right. 

“Groom,” He replied, “College roommates. You?” 

“Bride,” you told him. “Ironically, also college roommates.” 

“Well would you look at that,” Bradley smirked, and he knew the amusement that sparkled in your eye was mirrored in his. 

He was interrupted from saying anything else from the DJ tapping on the microphone to formally start the reception. As the bridal party danced their way into the room to Celine Dion, he kept stealing glances at you. To his pleasure, you were stealing them right back. By the time Sean and Lucy were seated at the front table and the DJ announced that dinner would be served momentarily, Bradley could barely look away. There was a smile on your face that indicated you didn’t mind at all. 

It continued that way through the meal that was eventually placed on the table. You didn’t speak much as you ate, both of you feeling like you were disrupting the other six people spread out on either side. But you kept catching each other’s eyes and smiling before you looked away, and his cheeks were nearly hurting at how big his smile was.

Fuck. 

Bradley barely even knew your name, and he was already down bad. 

You leaned over to him during the speeches that started immediately after dinner, and he caught another whiff of your perfume. He tried his best not to noticeably take a deep breath of the scent. “Do we think the best man is already drunk?” 

“Oh, he absolutely is,” he confirmed. The man in question was laughing hysterically at a joke he just told, already swaying on his feet. “I saw him throwing back an entire flask right before the ceremony.” 

Your nose scrunched up in the most adorable cringe he had ever seen. “Yikes. I don’t really blame him though. The maid of honor is his ex-fiance. I’m pretty sure she left him for groomsman number three, but I can’t confirm.” 

He looked at you with wide, curious eyes. “Did Lucy tell you that?”

“No,” you laughed, mindful of keeping your voice down to not draw any attention to yourselves as the slurred speeches continued. “I drove up last night and then was bored before the ceremony today. Social media is very informative, you know.” 

Bradley choked out a laugh, absolutely amazed at you. “Are you a private investigator or something?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

You picked up your wine glass with a smirk, and you winked at him before you took a sip. “A journalist, actually. But close enough.”  

A journalist. Bradley filed that information away in a new folder in his brain that had your name on it. 

Clapping drew his gaze away from you, and he realized he had completely shut out the rest of the speech. He cleared his throat and joined in, and the two of you watched as the bride and groom did their first dance. It felt like it lasted forever, but that was probably because he was itching for it all to be over so that he could talk to you again. He wanted to know more about you. In fact, he found that he wanted to know everything about you. 

Everyone clapped again when the dance came to an end, and Bradley was turning to you before the DJ even finished announcing the beginning of the party. 

“What are you drinking?” he asked, and he thought the look you gave him was a mix between delighted and amused. Your eyes cut to your mostly empty wine glass where he could very much see exactly what you had been sipping on. He felt heat creep up his cheeks in embarrassment. 

“White wine,” you said anyway. “What are you drinking?”

He fought the grin that was threatening to take over his face. You were keeping him on his toes, and he found he quite liked it. “Bourbon.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m about due for a refill.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You glanced around the table where the other occupants were back to scrolling through their phones or focusing on anything that wasn’t another human being. He almost laughed at the look on your face when you turned back to him. You grabbed your clutch from the table and the two of you rose out of your seats at the same time without even having to say anything. 

“After you,” he grinned, and your smile made him dizzy. He ordered another whiskey while you got Pinot Grigio. He laughed when you told him you weren’t allowed another glass, because too much white wine apparently made for a very interesting night. He filed that little tidbit away, too. 

With fresh drinks in hand, you turned to walk back to your assigned seating. The lights had dimmed and the music had turned to something upbeat and very cliche, and the majority of the attendees had converged on the dancefloor. You navigated around them carefully. His hand hovered over your lower back, not quite touching, but wanting to. You drew to a stop when you were only a few feet from the table, your head tilted to the side. 

“I hate being seated at these tables,” you muttered. “Always makes me feel like maybe I shouldn’t have come.” 

Bradley had been thinking the same thing until you had sat down beside him and shook his hand. He couldn’t help but flex his fingers as he remembered how his skin had buzzed at your touch. He glanced around the whole venue again, not quite knowing what he was looking for until he caught sight of the patio through the large windows.

“Do you want to ditch and go outside with me?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself. He held his breath when your eyes snapped to his, slightly wide in surprise. But they softened quickly, and you nodded, tucking some of your hair behind your ear with your free hand. 

He held out an arm, and after only a moment of hesitation, you slipped yours into it. He almost felt like he was floating as he guided the two of you toward the open doors. 

The patio was decorated beautifully. It stretched almost the entire length of the building, and twinkle lights lined the ceiling and the pillars holding it up. Smaller tables and furniture were spread out amongst the concrete and the two of you settled into the soft cushions of one of the outdoor coaches. 

It was a mild night, even for early February in Philadelphia, and the heat coming from the fire pit in the middle of the table in front of you was enough for it to be comfortable. You sat in silence for a beat, but it wasn’t awkward. Your fingers danced over the rim of your wine glass and Bradley’s gaze followed as you brought it to your lips. You caught his eye as you swallowed, and he felt the heat creep onto his cheeks at being caught staring at you again. 

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his own drink to gather himself. “So. A journalist. What do you write about?” 

“The hypocrisy of old men, mostly,” you shrugged, and Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You laughed at his expression. “I cover politics,” you explained. Your joke registered with the context and he chuckled. 

“So just how hypocritical are the old men of Philadelphia?” he asked, and you seemed delighted that he was going along with it. 

“Eh,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Very, I’m sure. But I cover Washington, which is definitely worse. I live in DC.” 

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat. Excited disbelief had his eyes widening. There was no way. In the back of his mind he had admittedly already been thinking of how often he could feasibly make the drive from Andrews to Philly, because he knew he had to see you again. Tonight couldn’t be the only time, not with how he was feeling and how he was pretty sure you were, too. 

“Small world,” he finally managed, trying to keep his voice steady despite his racing heart, and now your eyes were widening back. The happiness in them was hard to miss, and, holy shit, you were excited about this. He felt the urge to pinch himself. 

“You live in DC?”

“I’m at Naval Air Facility Washington doing extended training at Joint Base Andrews,” he told you, still in a bit of disbelief, but feeling giddy. 

“Ah. Navy man, huh?” 

It took a moment for Bradley to realize his cheeks were red again. He doesn’t think anyone has ever made him blush before, or at least not as many times as you had tonight already. 

“Naval Aviator,” he elaborated. 

You smiled, and it felt like the whole world disappeared except for the two of you as you held out your glass. He raised his to tap against it in cheers. “Here’s to small worlds, then.” 

“And to college roommates,” he added, and your laugh took his breath away. 

The two of you sat there with your drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, talking about everything and anything. He found himself hanging onto your every word. He couldn't help but be drawn in by every single thing about you. He learned that you grew up here in Philadelphia and, like him, you were an only child. You got your undergrad in journalism and then a masters in political science and moved to DC before the ink was even dry. You were a little bit addicted to coffee and true crime podcasts, and you were a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan. He told you about growing up in Virginia and being in the Navy, and about his love of the 80s and playing piano. 

But you talked about more than just the surface level stuff, too. As the occasional sound of laughter drifted outside from the dancefloor and the fire pit glowed in front of you, you told him how sometimes, you wondered if you were really cut out for your career, because the nature of what you had to cover drove you absolutely crazy, and you felt like people focused on the wrong things. You tended to have a self-imposed terrible work/life balance and your anxiety crept up on you because you’d ignore it for too long. You weren’t close with your parents, and your bucket list was full of things you were scared you’d never be able to do. 

In return, he let you in on the reason he wanted to join the Navy in the first place, and growing up with a single mother and what it was like when she got sick. He confided how he had a bad habit of hesitating both in and out of the air, and how he didn’t really have any connections or relationships outside of the Navy that went more than just skin deep or a memory of what used to be. 

He shared more with you than he had with anyone else, and somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was like he had always known you, or at least like he was meant to now. 

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you realized just how much time had passed. Before you knew it, the music from inside was starting to soften and the lights were turned back on, and the servers came outside to start collecting empty glasses and trash. 

“Oh wow,” you breathed in surprise, “We missed the whole reception.” 

You stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then at the same time, you burst into laughter. 

“Can I walk you back to your hotel?” he asked you once you had calmed down. You had mentioned how you were staying just a few blocks away, and the thought of you walking alone or getting a car this late at night didn’t sit right with him. It was strange, how he already felt the urge to protect and care for you. 

Plus, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. 

“I’d like that,” you said softly, much to his relief. 

The bride and groom were inside wishing everyone goodbye, and you both took a moment to speak to your respective reasonings for being there. Neither of you lingered for long, and the balmy night air greeted you again when you exited the building after collecting your coats. 

You didn’t hesitate to link your arm with his when he held it out this time. He felt warm all over with you this close to him. Despite the late hour, the city was still alive with people out and about and laughter and conversation spilling out onto the sidewalk from every business you passed. He held onto you a little tighter when you walked by some decidedly way too drunk people, but you didn’t seem to mind. You kept the conversation going just as easily as it was when you were sitting on the patio, swapping embarrassing stories from your college days. You were walking through the park, nearly at your hotel, and it was when you mentioned something about dancing on a table at a frat party after too many shots of Fireball that he came to an alarming realization. He stopped so abruptly that you were slightly yanked back into his body, and you looked at him in concern. Before you could ask what was wrong, he was blurting the words out. 

“I never asked you to dance.” 

You gave him a confused look and then snorted in amusement. “I suppose you didn’t.” 

“Oh my god,” he groaned, tilting his head back and slapping his palm to his forehead. “I had the perfect opportunity to dance with you and I never asked.” 

You were still laughing, your feelings clearly not hurt at his lack of consideration. But he was already digging his phone out of his pocket and swiping open his music app. He held it out in your direction. “Pick a song,” he told you. 

“What?” you laughed. “Bradley!” 

“I’m serious! Pick a song.” 

He pushed his phone a little closer, and with an amused look, you finally took it. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before you started typing, and then the soft sounds of Time After Time were floating in the air. 

“You said you loved the 80s,” you said almost shyly. But Bradley smiled, taking the phone back and slipping it into his jacket pocket. The music was muffled now, but you could both still hear it. 

“It’s perfect,” he told you. He held out a hand for you to take, and once you slipped your palm into his, he pulled you close. You rested your head on his shoulder as you began to sway. The night was quiet and serene as you danced, and he didn’t know what he did for his night to turn out this way, but he was so glad that it did. 

When the song came to an end, you stopped moving, but didn’t separate. You picked your head up and looked at him, your eyes locking together. You didn’t say anything at first, but eventually, you sighed and a soft, reluctant smile tugged at your lips. 

“I should probably get back,” you whispered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, desperate to stay in your presence for as long as possible. You had entered his life so unexpectedly, and he was wishing with everything in him that you wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. “You aren’t going to turn into a pumpkin once the clock strikes midnight, right?” 

You shook your head at his joke, giving him a playful wink in return. “I don’t know. This does feel a bit like a fairytale.” 

Your words made him grow a little more serious, and he swallowed thickly as a charged energy seemed to settle over both of you. You bit your lip as you stared, your gaze wide and saying a million things at once. You had the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. He wanted to look at them forever. 

"You know," he said, his voice lower now, like he was afraid to disrupt the moment by being too loud. He brought a hand up to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.  “This is not how I anticipated my night going.” 

The air between you crackled with unspoken words, his hand still lingering near your cheek. Then, in a move that felt natural and inevitable, he leaned in, and you met him halfway. Your lips touched softly, a spark of electricity passing between you. It was a kiss filled with promise, a taste of what could be. It was as if time stood still, the world around you fading away until it was just the two of you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless. Bradley looked at you with a mixture of desire and genuine affection that should have scared him, but it didn’t. 

"Wow," you whispered, your lips curving into a shy smile. He knew exactly what you were feeling with that one word, because he felt it too.

He brushed his nose against yours, breathing you in. “Tell me I can see you again when we get back to DC,” he begged. 

You let your hand rest against his chest, and he was sure you could feel the pounding of his heart. “I was hoping so,” you said, and he breathed out a happy laugh of relief before kissing you again.  

Standing there under the soft glow of the lampposts, Bradley thought he might love you already. 

-----------

Masterlist

Notes: I hope y'all loved this one as much as I did! I miss these two so much.

Special thanks to Mak and Em for all of their help, and to Mak for the banner!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl @greatszu

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

[eve209]

‼️‼️SMUT WARNING CAUSE IM PISSED‼️‼️

FOR SOME BACK STORY: on Roblox I got banned for a day then when I was logging back in it wouldn’t let me do to the 2 step vari so….I’m mad rn tbh and I wanna fuck Roblox

ROBLOX X TOP MALE READER

THIS FANFIC IS JOKE PLS (kinda short)

(Update that account got deleted…)

‼️WARINGS‼️ punishment, spanking, light choking, degrading, little praise here and there, daddy kink (only 2 times though), pet names, mirror fucking, almost gettin caught, sir kink.

_________________________________________

“FUCKING HELL DUDE” I said bashing my head on my keyboard then looking back up at the screen in front of me.

“What are you mad about this time?” My homie,  Kayden on the call said while chucking.

“Ya know how got ban from Roblox yesterday?”

“Mhm”

“well now I’m trying to log in and it says I have to have a 6 digit code that got sent to my email and I didn’t hook a FUCKING EMAIL ON MY ACCOUNT.”

“PFFFFFF HAHAHA, do ya want me to come over and help with it? Maybe I can spend the night or somethin.” Alex said while I heard him shuffling for something, probably his phone.

“But then I have to wait 45 minutes for you to drive here tf am I going to do in the mean time!?” I said while stretching out my arms and pushing my gaming chair back with my feet till it hit my bed while still having my headset on.

“It’s ok dude your gonna live im packing rn so hold tight and jerk off or somethin.” Alex said.

“BRO WTF-“ I said while getting cut off by the end call sound.

“Fucking hell…” I said breathing out but again getting interrupted by a strange noise coming from the pc. Bringing my head back down from looking up at the ceiling while everything started to violently shake around me.

“What the fuck is happening!” I said gripping the arm rests of the chair then closing my eyes and waiting for everything to be over.

….

…….

Suddenly everything stopped. ‘What the fuck..’ I thought opening my eyes slowly while feeling pressure on my lap.

“Hi there! I heard you are having a hard time logging into your Roblox account! May I help you in anyway to satisfy you?” A soft male voice said above me while I was looking my lap seeing tight, outlined thighs with a small bulge in between.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?” I said looking up, following the tanned body that’s connected to the thighs I was checkin out earlier.

“Oh I’m sorry dear! I’m Roblox! I’m sorry I forgot to introduce myself! Your having trouble right? Well I’m here to take that trouble away!” Said Roblox while holding an iPad, still sitting on my lap.

“Y-yeah I am having trouble. My names (M/n) by the way..” I said lightly grabbing his waist so his ass can stop grinding on my dick.

“Yep! I already know that but thank you for reminding me!” He said but then quickly adding onto it while starting to turn around to the PC, “What seems to be the problem sir?”

‘Fuck…’ I thought while still holding on to his waist. The sight of his round, squish-able ass on my covered dick kinda turned me on. ‘I never knew a fucking app could have such a fuckable ass…’

“Um sir, what you do need help with?” Roblox said while slightly turning his body to the side to look at me.

“Oh yeah um I can’t log into my Roblox account because it says I need a six digit code thats sent to my email but it didn’t send me it so I don’t know what to do.” I said scratching the back of my head while looking up at him, still on my lap.

“Oh well are you sure that you checked your inbox?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure…” I said tilting my head back.

“Well then I’m sorry sir but I don’t know how to help you then…you probably turned on two-step verification and didn’t put an email to go with it!” Roblox said, moving his body to face me again while resting his hands on my chest, and looking at me.

With a deep sigh coming from my mouth, I moved my hands to go under his butt and stood up while still holding him and walking to my bed and placing Roblox in the middle of it.

“Um sir! W-what are you d-doing!” Roblox said moving his hands to clutch the pillow, his head was laying on.

“You said you were here to take my trouble away right?” I said, taking off my hoodie I had on.

“Y-Yes! That’s what I’m here for, but what are you doing!” Roblox said with a worried look.

“Well I have some trouble with my dick and I think you would be perfect and you need a punishment for not doing your job right.” I said putting a hand next to Roblox’s face and looking down on him. “How does that sound princess?” I said slipping my hand down to grab his ass.

POV NOW IN 3RD PERSON

“But sir- MHMM!~” Roblox stuttered before (M/n) smashed his lips onto his roughly and slipped his tongue in his mouth.

As (M/n) was taking his sweatpants and boxers off, he took his tongue out of Roblox’s mouth to replace them with two of his own fingers.

“Fuck baby, look at how hard my dick is because of you.” (M/n) said, grabbing his cock and jerking himself off while taking his fingers out of Roblox’s mouth and entering his fingers in his tight hole. After stuffing his fingers in, (M/n) immediately started to thrust his fingers faster and harder making Roblox scream in pleasure.

After a couple of minutes, Roblox’s tight hole was already nice and loose, which once (M/n) realized this, he took his fingers out and stopped jerking his massive cock off. “Fucking hell, do you know how much time and money I put in that stupid fucking account since I was like 10?” (M/n) said, grabbing Roblox’s neck, choking him, and leaning down to slide his tongue around Roblox’ s face cheek.

“P-please sir! I’m s-so sorry I couldn’t help but I-!~ AH!” Roblox said before getting cut off by (M/n) thrusting his cock into Roblox’s pathetic hole, making Roblox cum right then and there.

“S-shit Baby your still so fuckin tight after fingering your hole for 10 minutes, goddamn slut.” (M/n) said til grabbing onto his neck. Roblox couldn’t even get a breather, nor thought in before (M/n) started thrusting fast into Roblox, making their skin slap together.

“AHH~! DADDY PLEASE!~~ it’s to much! Please daddy I just c-came! Wait wait w-wait!” Roblox said tears of overstimulation and pleasure running down his face.

“God princess, just take it.” (M/n) said while smacking Roblox’s ass.

After 20 minutes of thrusting, choking, degrading and praise, (M/n) still hasn’t came deep inside Roblox like he wants! Unlike (M/n), Roblox has came 3 times already, almost passing out. “F-fuck what a good boy you are baby, such a big dick for a tight ass like yours and your still taking it.” (M/n) said smirking as Roblox arched his back.

“Fuck! S-sir! I-it’s to m-much! Ah!~” Roblox said screaming as (M/n)s dick reached the deepest part of him.

*knock knock knock*

….

“Who the fuck….” (M/n) said stopping, but not pulling out of Roblox. Roblox whimpered,  tightening around (M/n)s cock. Breathing heavily, Roblox asked (M/n) “W-why did y-you st-“. “HEY DUDE WTF ARE YOU DOING??” Kayden said still knocking on the door.

“F-fuck um ONE SECOND LET ME GO TAKE A SHOWER!” (M/n) said covering Roblox’s mouth in the process.

“NAH MAN WTF I WAS JOKING ABOUT YOU JERKING OFF YOU FREAK” Kayden said, laughing and fidgeting with the door.

“BRO STFU I HATE U I DIDNT DO THAT” (M/n) said picking up Roblox and walking to his bathroom in his room. Quickly turning the shower on and sitting on the lid of the toilet. (M/n) breathes and slaps Roblox’s butt and throws his head back before looking at Roblox and whispering..

“You think you can be quiet?”

[saulocept]

sunrise boulevard

pairing: kenji sato/reader

rating: g

summary: After Mina’s “death”, Ken needs someone to fulfill the role of a babysitter.

And after your sudden unemployment, you need something to get you by.

It’s only through chance that the two of you manage to find each other.

notes: this is the first part of a mini-series ive been working on. a little on the shorter side. this was originally going to be longer, but i had to cut it since the other part didn't quite fit well with this. so uh. consider this as an introductory part?

parts: one (you are here)

No one ever tells you how hard it is to be unemployed at your age. Harder still when pretty much every person your age is living a good life, with houses of their own, and high-paying jobs they could brag about in their socials.

It’s not like any of this is your fault, not really. You weren’t always unemployed; things just sort of happened. In fact, you were a star employee, (or a former one, at least) in every sense of the word: you were never late, were never absent. You always wore your uniform properly, ironed the creases each night so they’d look more pristine than ever. You’d dealt with the customers perfectly, answered each of their queries as best as you can, leading them to the correct aisles when they couldn’t be bothered to find it themselves.

You’d maintained the place, kept it nice and spotless, sweeping off the floors and wiping off the counters. You’d probably done other stuff, too: fixed the light bulbs, cleaned the toilets, unclogged the sink, even repaired them when they weren’t working as intended – which was difficult work for someone not knowledgeable in such things like you were.

But you did all of them, anyway, without complaint, without hesitation.

And still, they fired you. No, not fired, but rather laid off – as they put it. Not like you can blame them anyway. The shop’s closed its doors a week after they fired you (again, laid off) which at least meant that they weren’t lying to you when they said they couldn’t afford to keep you employed any longer.

You’d be sad about it if you aren’t so busy trying to stay afloat. It’s not easy being back to square one, after all. It’s even harder to be on square one for months now.

It’s not like you aren’t trying your best either. You’ve pretty much applied everywhere by now, sent your resumes to companies and institutions, however large and small. You’ve even lurked on multiple sites, too, just to make sure you aren’t missing out on anything: Linkedin, Indeed – hell, you’ve even started to look for jobs at Craigslist, too, and even Facebook Marketplace, of all places, desperate for something, anything.

Not like you’ve ever had an array of skills to boast about. You know the basics, obviously, but you don��t have a doctorate degree, or some kind of Masters. You know a lot about kaiju; years of watching Godzilla at the orphanage with the other children had given you more knowledge about them than anything you could ever do with (Godzilla, mostly), but you know it’s not going to be of any help to you now.

Hell. You’re not even fluent in any language outside your own – no, wait, you’re a little fluent in Klingon, but that’s only because you’re a nerd as a kid. You doubt that’d be enough to impress anyone, but there’s no harm in putting that out there, right? Just in case.

Maybe you’d fool some employer out there who didn’t know any better. Or maybe you’d make one of them laugh.

So far, your efforts have all been for naught. There’s no response from anyone, from anything: no calls, no emails. No text messages. Nothing but radio silence, and obvious text scams trying to get you to shell out money you’ve never even had.

You exhale a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose as you take a sip of your coffee. Instant this time, and black, because you couldn’t afford a creamer and a sugar.

You blanch a little at the taste, but force yourself to swallow it down. You can’t afford to waste any more coffee, especially not when you need it to stay awake. It’s useless; you haven’t slept for a week straight now, enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out any moment now, but you still haven’t given up hope.

You stare at the screen, rubbing your eyes once more. You could feel the thrum of your computer in front of you: rhythmic and steady, familiar and comfortable. It’s the only thing that’s been with you throughout all this fight, not once giving up on you despite its multiple issues: old age, outdated system, cracked screen, wonky keyboard – plus a whole bunch of other things you haven’t managed to discover.

You’ve been lurking at this site for a while now, something you’ve only managed to find by doing a thorough search on the internet, scouting for new job opportunities.

So far, there hasn’t been anything new, and you’re already close to giving up for the day and catching up on some sleep when there’s a sudden ping, nearly startling you out of your wits.

 Still, you know that could only mean one thing. With your heart hammering against your chest, you hit the refresh button, watch as the screen freezes for a few seconds before displaying the entire page again.

There’s a new entry at the top, posted just a few seconds ago. You lean your head forward, squinting, double-clicking on the post, skimming through the entire thing.

Looking for a kaiju babysitter. Experience not needed. Knowledge welcome, but not necessary. If interested, send an email to this address: baseballlover26@mail.com.

You raise an eyebrow at that, looking a little skeptical. A dummy email address, which already seems shady enough at first glance, but a kaiju babysitter? Now that’s new. You’ve only ever learned about kaiju in the movies, but you doubt they’d need a babysitter, especially when they seem even more capable than a regular human.

Could this be some sort of a code, then? A message hidden somewhere? You read the entry again, starting from the beginning, searching for hidden clues, but nothing comes to mind.

Curiously, you click on the person’s profile, still not feeling a little convinced. There’s no entry outside the one that you’d just read. Hell, there’s not even a description or anything of the sort. No name, not even a profile picture, which just makes the whole thing even more suspicious.

Is this some sort of a ruse to lure you into human trafficking? That feels very likely, considering the nature of the job (babysitting a kaiju? Seriously?), but it’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.

Free room and board? Hell yeah. At this point, you’ll take anything that offers a place to stay, especially if you don’t have to pay for it, no matter how dangerous it is. Beggars can’t be choosers after all, and you’d be damned if you let this all go to waste.

You flex your fingers, typing up a short email to the address, attaching your resume and your contact numbers, mentioning the fact that you know a little bit about kaiju­ as a postscript– which isn’t quite a lie, but not quite the truth either. If any of this were real, then perhaps, you’d be able to impress the person behind the post.

And if not… well. You’ll know for sure at least.

Without hesitation, you finally hit send. Now all that’s left for you to do is wait for a reply.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 1 - "Help me."

| Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

Catching up on June of Doom as much as I can haha. Next one I think I'll do is CCE, but for now, here's some Rowan/Sawyer content.

Sorry it's shorter than most of my works, haven't been feeling too motivated but I've been forcing myself to get there haha.

CW: Implied drugging, failed escape, intimate/yandere whumper, implied trauma, noncon touching (not sexual), concussions, slight gore

...

It had been three months since Sawyer managed to escape from Rowan. Those three months felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, yet was still somehow more stressful than being in his kidnapper's grasp. He was glad to have freedom again, but terrified every time he went outside. Hell, even when he was inside his shitty motel room he was scared that Rowan would be somehow in his walls.

The fear made it so difficult to do things as simple as getting groceries and going to the laundromat.

There were so many people outside, everywhere. Rowan could blend in with them no problem, and then get Sawyer alone and take him back to his own personal hell.

But... there had been no signs of Rowan ever since Sawyer got out. There hadn't been any flowers on his doorstep, no messages on his phone, no emails to his old Indigo work account.

That was probably because Rowan had no idea where he was (hopefully) and Sawyer was now confined to using a cheap flip phone instead of his smartphone that Rowan had broke.

Sawyer tried not to think about Rowan. He tried to focus on the here and now, and the here and now was buying a few bags of chips at the gas station.

He did his best not to look over his shoulder the entire time he shopped. Every little sound made him jump. People chatting quietly with each other. The cashier running change for another customer. Someone opening the glass freezer door across the room.

Fuck, everything freaked him out nowadays. But he needed to get groceries sooner rather than later. His room had only a microwave and a mini fridge in it, so if he didn't want to go hungry tonight he needed food. He wanted nothing more than to buy a pack of cigarettes, but he couldn't even do that with his little money and lack of ID.

He set down the items he bought onto the counter and waited for the cashier to ring him up. Each moment felt like an hour.

"That'll be $8.36."

"Thanks," Sawyer said, fishing through his pockets. He took out some crumbled bills and counted them out, then dropped the money into the man's open palm. "Keep the change." He needed the money, but he also needed to get out of here asap.

The cashier thanked him. As soon as Sawyer got his change back he left. He went outside with his bagged goods, thankful for the cool breeze outside.

It was already dark outside and he only had the light of the streetlamps to guide him back to his motel room.

It was cold tonight, almost freezing. He should've gotten a jacket from the store, but he'd be fine without one. If he froze to death that would be preferable to going back to Rowan.

Breathing in the crisp air helped him feel a little better, less like he was suffocating under the stress of being outside. At this rate, he was going outside even less than when he was in captivity.

He thought a car was about to pass him, but when it started to slow down by the curb Sawyer's heart nearly stopped.

The car... looked exactly like Rowan's.

Rowan had found him.

No no no no no no no no no no no...

His blood turned to ice and his stomach twisted into knots. All he could manage to do was take a few steps back, dropping his bags of food. The car door opened, and out stepped Rowan. His hair was messier than usual and he wore all black clothing, which was a stark contrast to the cozy wool sweaters and dress shirts that Sawyer was used to seeing him in.

Sawyer didn't waste a second on standing around in shock. He immediately bolted off running in the alleyway right behind him. His lungs were already burning but he couldn't let that stop him. He could hear Rowan call his name from far behind, echoing off the walls.

"Help me!" Sawyer shrieked, running faster than he ever had before. "Someone help me, please! Help-!"

His words were cut short when he ran face first into a brick wall. He blamed the poor lighting for his misstep, and the throbbing pain in his head kept him from getting up as fast as he wanted to.

Rowan slowed down. He was cornered, so he curled up into a ball in an attempt to make himself seem smaller. Maybe it would work. Maybe if he tried hard enough he would just disappear.

"Sawyer," Rowan breathed out, clearly exhausted. Sawyer wasn't sure what happened between the kidnapping and now, but it looked like he had gone through some shit too.

But whatever happened to him wasn't Sawyer's concern. This was his kidnapper, his tormentor, the man who abused him for months. He wasn't going to pity him.

Rowan collapsed on his knees, then pulled Sawyer close to him. It felt strange being so close to someone again; it made Sawyer feel dirty.

Even with the awkward position, Rowan was so much stronger than Sawyer. There was no way he was breaking free of his grip any time soon.

"I missed you so much..." Rowan muttered against Sawyer's hair, squeezing him tighter. "So so so much." His hot breath made Sawyer turn his face away. He was desperate to escape this, any of it. Rowan flashed a knife in his direction, and that was all it took for Sawyer to stop squirming.

The last thing he needed was another injury from his deranged stalker.

Rowan tutted, examining the side of his head with his free hand. "Oh, poor thing. I bet that hurt. But don't worry," he cooed, kissing his forehead. "I'm going to take care of you. That's why you did all of this right? You just wanted me to pay more attention to you." A dark chuckle escaped his throat. "Well, you'll get it, don't you worry."

Next thing Sawyer knew, Rowan had tucked the knife away somewhere in his coat, then forced him to his feet.

Sawyer was sure he was concussed and most likely had a broken nose, so his balance was compromised. But as always, Rowan managed to keep him upright.

He steered them out of the alley and to his car. He contemplated putting him in the trunk, but settled for the backseat instead, since it looked like his beloved wouldn't be awake for much longer.

"You can relax, my dear." Rowan kissed his bloody nose. Sawyer didn't even have the awareness to be disgusted. "Since the typical punishments aren't working on you, I think I've worked up a new solution. You're not allergic to ketamine, are you?"

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Devil's Luck - Dr. Fearless/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (with some masc nicknames), nothing but typical Fearless failcringe (we love it).

Wordcount: 6836

Summary: Your luck was so weird, you could end up doing something random like win a contest to an online horror host's livestream thanks to a friend, and somehow manage to meet your soulmate, but that might be pushing it, right?

Notes: My first Fearless >:3 this was part of a trade with the wonderful @lakesofneptune for writing me Matty 💗/)//w//(\💗 it was amazing, so in return I've put on my fangs and written this 🧛 I hope you all enjoy~ 🖤🖤🖤

You didn't know how your luck worked, but boy was it prevalent in the weirdest of ways. Hitting every single detour to the point of being late, and still managing to do it on the one day of the month where it somehow still benefited you. Losing your wallet right before you need to pay for groceries, and having it be returned by the hottest person in the store just in time. Entering a random contest because your best friend only wanted half of the prize, and knowing your track record he’d written down your name on the off chance you won, so naturally you did.

That was how you ended up here on a late Monday night of all nights, the details given to you by your friend just hours before as he excitedly barged into your apartment with the announcement email printed off. You'd just gotten home, and he knew that since you were neighbours, the man waiting for you with bated breath it seemed as you watched him slap the paper down on your counter while you were still in the process of taking off your coat. ‘I just made your whole night,’ he boldly claimed, and you just blinked at him while you remained frozen mid-removal. ‘You just won the privilege to be on TV, courtesy of me! Well, not exactly, but it is being livestreamed, that's where the channel is- nevermind, just get ready, there's a dress code for this so you fit in, I wish they'd sent this earlier, we might've had time to do your hair.’

You blinked again as he spoke, his hands wild and his eyes scanning your closet for something that would fit said dress code, and you finished taking off your coat and set it over the back of your couch. ‘Uh, hello to you too,’ you said as you moved on to your shoes, not bothered at all as he started motioning for you to move a little faster. 

‘Okay, I know this doesn't happen for a few hours, but you really do need to get ready,’ he insisted as he headed for your closet and inspected it more closely, your pair of black boots you saved for winter coming out along with the trenchcoat you bought as part of a Halloween costume years ago and just never donated when you were done with it.

‘What the hell are you dressing me as?’ you asked with a curious raise of your eyebrows at the startings of the ensemble, and he seemed unsure about the coat but ultimately set it aside with the boots. He didn't answer you, just rushed to your bedroom to raid your other closet presumably, and you sighed and followed him before he made a mess. 

‘Need dark clothes, spikes, leather, uh… you still have the rest of that costume? I can lend you some of my stuff if you don’t,’ he wondered without even looking at you, and you resigned yourself to your fate and started to dig through the boxes buried behind all the stuff you actually wore.

‘If this is for some kinda sex thing-’

‘It’s not! It's classy, just gothic, I swear,’ he insisted when your outfit was chosen, and as you stared down at it you had to trust your weird luck and that your friend wouldn't lead you astray.

‘Fine, so what is this? Something livestreamed, am I like, putting on a presentation? Do I need to memorize anything?’ There was no fighting this, might as well go with the flow, it would be less painful this way when he brought you to this mysterious location.

‘Well, there's this channel I watch, and they're all about horror, you know how much I love horror; anyway, they got two tickets to that new vampire movie that's coming out, we're talking premium seats, free popcorn, opening night, it's sick as hell. So they started a contest, write them an email about how much you love horror and the first place winner gets the tickets as well as a spot on the show when they go to collect them, and that's gunna be you!’ It was then you noticed that he was dressed a little fancier than usual, his hair was slicked back and he was wearing eyeliner, his own gothness upped a few levels for the occasion.

‘Lemme guess, the winner gets to bring a friend,’ you figured, your reflection showing you a pair of vampires by the time you were done, it was almost kind of funny. 

‘Of course, it's first prize, plus I'm not leaving without those tickets,’ he told you matter of factly, and he looked you over before humming to himself and snapping his fingers. He pulled out an eyeliner pen from his pocket and quickly applied it to you, he was very prepared for this, and you had to admit it did look like you were about to hit the local goth club or something like this. ‘That'll have to do, time to head out, thank you so much for doing this for me, you know how much I hate being on camera.’

‘Oh, so that's why I'm the scapegoat here,’ you realized flatly while you did up your shoes, but he completely missed or ignored your sarcastic tone. 

‘It's just for a half hour, the host is pretty eccentric and he does bits between the movies, so most of your appearance will be banter, and you know how bad I am with that,’ he reminded you like you weren't already well aware of how he clammed up the moment someone shot a quip back at him. ‘So based on the other guests I've seen, you'll just go on, do some talking about horror stuff - which you can bullshit your way through, you've known me long enough - announce a short film submitted to or found by the producers, and then whatever movie is playing next. After that you'll probably get my tickets, we can get outta there, and I’ll tell you if the movie is any good.’

‘Wha- I don't even get to go after all this?’

‘Hell no, you know I’ve been trying to ask that girl down at the 2nd floor out, this is the perfect date, actually perfect, I can’t- I cannot waste this on just us hanging out, can’t do it man, I’m sorry,’ he apologized profusely while also managing to sound not sorry at all, something he was incredibly good at.

‘Alright, but if she doesn’t go for it, I want that second seat,’ you bargained, to which he gladly agreed as thanks for you doing this. That settled, he picked the paper back up off the counter and led the way to his car; the place was some rented building in what used to be a stripmall, all the shops around it closed and rented out for various reasons like this, between self storage, an apartment you were pretty sure, and a small-time but very heavily guarded liquor store. It wasn't impressive, but it brought life to the place you could see as people filled the normally empty parking lot now that the sun had set and the show was about to be in progress.

You’d learned that while it was livestreamed for its channel, they also opened their doors to the locals as well to stop in, catch a movie, and donate if they liked what was going on. You could see that the small crowd they drew were very much into it, no one there ironically to your surprise, and you started to worry that maybe bullshitting your way through your half hour wouldn’t be as easy as your friend thought; you were a casual enjoyer of horror compared to him, and these other people. You liked to see the latest stuff with your favourite B-Tier actor in it when he reappeared for roles, and you enjoyed the popular classics and the odd camp as much as the next guy, but could you get away with that when the person walking in front of you had the bride of Dracula shaved into his hair?

‘I don’t think I can do this, they’ll know I didn’t write the letter,’ you gulped when you transitioned from stripmall to eerily decorated rooms, the whole place looking more like you were about to enter a haunted house than a set. 

‘Shit, I knew I forgot something, I printed it off so you could read it, maybe drop a line or two,’ he hissed before he was forcing a huge smile and presenting his winning ticket even though it should’ve been you. The ticket taker, a tall woman with bright red hair and too many piercings to count, looked you both over before motioning for a shorter woman with white hair done up in high twintails with fake devil horns on her headband to lead your way, and you followed her nervously until you reached the set. It was done up even more than the foyer, two plush chairs with an old box tv between them as the main attraction while the rest was decorated to look like a castle library you presumed.

There was a coffin in the left corner right before the backdrop ended, candles galore - although you were sure they were mostly for show, burnt down until the wax got everywhere while fake ones were hidden between - as well as jars filled with various things. There were so many fake cobwebs you were sure some real ones were bound to be mixed in by now, and even a fake fireplace and chandelier hung from the ceiling next to the boom mic. It was a pretty well-loved set, every nook and cranny you could see positively filled with Halloween and horror themed things; while it looked cheap to buy, everything was touched up and placed with great care, and even now people were leaving tips and browsing the small corner of the room dedicated to themed treats as well as the graciously flowing popcorn maker.

‘Wow, this is the real deal,’ you said aloud before you could help yourself, and instantly you felt a presence behind you that wasn't your friend or the woman who’d brought you over.

‘Indeed, welcome to my humble abode, I trust you’re the lucky vic- I mean, guest I’ll have the honour of sitting with tonight?’ It was a man’s voice, heavy with an over the top Transylvanian accent, and when you turned you were very much not ready to see who it belonged to; out of everyone there, it was clear even from a distance that this was your host, your eyes looking up and up until you met his own. He was pale, caked in makeup to make him appear almost dead, his eyes surrounded by more black than you’d ever seen on anyone outside of Halloween, with a thin, red scar trailing from his forehead to his cheek and a pair of long Nosferatu-style fangs resting over his bottom lip. 

He was all dressed up in his vampiric best, from the black suit overtop his silky, purple shirt, to the red jeweled medallion hanging between the clasps of his impressively expensive-looking cape, but none of that was what really caught your eye. No, it was the haircut, a bob with triangle bangs that were cut way too high, and you couldn’t stop the small and short laugh as it escaped your throat when you saw it. Instantly your friend was there to stop you from letting out more and to introduce himself, your host’s eyes only on you despite the rudeness even as his hand was taken in an eager handshake.

‘Hey! Sorry about that, my name is-’

‘Please, with all due respect, it is your captivating friend here which I am interested in,’ he interrupted as he stole his hand back and presented it to you instead, and you noticed the black nail polish to top it all off when you looked down. ‘You’re the winner of my little search for a lover of all things macabre and fiendish, are you not?’

‘Uh, yeah, that’s me,’ you lied, your friend frozen in shock at getting to shake his hand even for that brief moment.

‘Wonderful, I could sense it when I looked at you, your blood smelled positively rich with fright even from across my theater, a creature after my own heart,’ he swooned like he was in love, and one quick glance to your friend told you it was all part of the bit, he thought himself a Romeo of monsters.

‘Oh, I don’t know if it’s fright, but-’ You cut yourself off when he then took your hand, tired of waiting for you to shake it, but instead of the greeting your friend had gotten, he simply lifted your hand up while he leaned over, and you felt his fake teeth press into your skin as he kissed you hello. 

‘Divine, your pulse under my lips makes my heart soar, perhaps I may get more acquainted with it during the show, turn you into one of my own,’ he thought aloud as he stared at you through dark makeup and long lashes, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at how hard he was hamming it on before the cameras even started rolling.

‘Yeah, sure, I’m the winner, aren’t I? Pretty good prize to become a vampire at the end,’ you joked, but he seemed to take it seriously as his eyes widened briefly in excitement.

‘What a handsome addition to my clan,’ he whispered before kissing you again, and this time you felt less sure about how much he was actually hamming it or if he was a better actor than you originally thought. Your moment was quickly interrupted when a new person arrived to hand him his script for the night, the two talking quietly to themselves as you were guided presumably just out of sight by the shorter woman again. She gave you the quick rundown while you were gently touched up for the cameras, how you were indeed going to be called on, do some banter, introduce some things, and then you were free to go claim your tickets. 

Seemed easy enough, and his eccentricness seemed just as easy to match as long as you forgot the fact that 20+ people were watching you in this room alone, so you practiced your breathing and waited as the lights dimmed and a spotlight fell over the coffin in the corner. You hadn’t watched him enter it but apparently he had, the fireplace now roaring to life behind the chairs and TV, each of the fake candles now creating shadows on everything. The chatter started to quiet until the whole room was silent, everyone gathered into the mismatch of thrifted couches and chairs so it really felt like a theater or even a living room, the only sounds that of the snacks currently being chewed and the fog machine whirring to life.

‘Good evening, Boils and Ghouls, my Fiendish Freaks who dare dredge these long, cold nights with the Creatures of the Dark for any glimmer of light,’ his voice came from the speakers placed around the room, but there was no applause, that wasn't the atmosphere of this place. The coffin creaked open with a perfectly timed soundboard hit, the creak overly loud as he reached out delicately and pushed the lid until he was revealed, and the spotlight landed perfectly on him as he looked out onto the crowd before focusing on the camera. ‘Once again, it is I, your horrid host of the evening, Dr. Fearless, and I thank you all for joining me. Tonight, we have a horrible lineup of classic horror monsters to terrify you with, to finish off our Marathon of Madness leading into the most wonderful month of the year, October.

‘We also have not one, but two short films made by aspiring fearmakers, full of monsters the likes of which this castle has yet to house, let us hope none of them decide to crawl through your screen and find a home there.’ He left the coffin completely as he spoke, taking careful steps towards the leftmost chair, and as soon as he sat down the TV blinked to life, static filling the room as the spotlight faded into something gloomier so the room wasn't in complete darkness apart from the candles. ‘But first, let us welcome our Ghoulish Guest for tonight, the answer to my howls in the dark, the Passenger of the Demeter!’

That was your cue, and the soundboard lit up again with a very classic organ tune as bats chirped in the background, a roar of thunder sounding as you sat across from him. You went to shake his hand properly this time, but again he refused, another kiss warming your hand before he quickly turned your arm to expose your wrist; your eyes widened as he leaned in for a bite, and you almost let him surprisingly enough before you felt the tips of his fangs press into your skin. You jerked away, and he feigned offense before catching himself, an apology tossed your way with a great flourish.

‘Forgive me, I thought you might be offering me a drink to start off the evening, these films often leave me quite parched,’ he projected, and when you opened your mouth to say it was okay you found a zombie standing beside you dressed as a butler; he held out a golden tray, of course silver would be off the menu, and on it was what could only be described as a grand - at least from afar - goblet next to a large wine glass. ‘Thank you, my humble helper, this will greatly help until I may have a taste- er, a toast, with our guest,’ he told the man, who loudly groaned and walked off as soon as the drinks were taken.

You could smell that it was simply fruit punch, but the colour was darker, probably deepend with food colouring, they really were the real deal. He held up his goblet while everyone stared, and you ignored them all as you tapped the rim of your glass against his own before taking a small sip. He seemed pleased, and in one swift movement he set down his goblet, crossed his legs, and adjusted his cape with another grand flourish.

‘Now that our thirsts have been quenched, let us partake in this delectable first short film to start off the night, a fearful story about what happens when love takes a desperate turn,’ he told the cameras dramatically, and the TV flickered to life to show everyone the short in question. ‘You're doing wonderful, my Myotis,’ he whispered to you as the short’s audio was blasted through the room, a secondary screen dropping down to reveal a projector hiding above the chandelier so everyone else could watch.

‘Your what?’ you whispered back in confusion, but he either didn't hear you or ignored the question.

‘By the way, since I was so very entranced by your eyes when we met, I forgot to ask what you would like to be called during our gathering, do you have any special name prepared?’

‘Uh, no, not really,’ you chuckled awkwardly, something like that hadn't even been close to being on your mind.

‘I shall name you like the day you were born, then, something chilling but also fitting of your beauty, your charm,’ he offered, still hamming it up even though only you could hear, and you wondered for a moment if maybe this was just… how he always was, this wasn't an act for the cameras.

‘Okay, shock and awe me,’ you agreed as you took another sip of ‘blood’, and his eyes shone in the firelight as he quickly started to think up something befitting of you; he was silly, and so over the top you knew you could never match this energy, but he was also strangely endearing in a way, a childlike wonder and love for all of this setting him apart from everyone else watching so intently before you, and you could see why people came to the streams, not just watched them at home.

The short ended and you actually didn't notice at first until the credits were over and the screen rose again, the film ended on the TV as well as it switched back to the atmospheric static. ‘Wasn't that frightening, my Fiends? Trading the senses just to keep love, choosing the heart of another over being able to ever see them again, have you ever seen anything more romantic?’ Of course no one answered, and in the audience you saw your friend eating all of this up along with the complimentary snacks that came with being the ‘winner's guest’. ‘Ah, but we are not here for romance, we're here for the darkness within us all to be shared, exposed, torn open and put on display like an embalmed, still-beating heart,’ he continued as he covered the lower half of his face with his cape dramatically. ‘Of course, having met our guest tonight, I might finally understand what that kind of devotion might drive someone to, wouldn't you agree?’

The sound of a beating heart pulsed through the speakers, and he stared at you until you met his eye and he raised his eyebrows suggestively, his mouth still hidden. You tried not to laugh, a bit of a chuckle still escaping, and he still took it and held his hands over his heart as he leaned back in his chair.

‘Like music to my ears, but again, we are not here for love, we are here for fear, terror, maybe even a bit of pain for those so inclined-’ Another eyebrow raise, apparently he was the one inclined. ‘-so allow my devilish date to introduce our next short after a quick message from our benefactors.’ You assumed that was his term for the channel's sponsors, and sure enough someone else came back out to talk about some product they were being pushed to promote off to your right, the camera turning to their section of stage while they talked. This allowed you both another moment to talk, and he handed you a card with the next short’s title as well as some information about it as soon as you were out of sight. ‘Memorize this, the way you've already memorized my very soul, my enticing incubus,’ he told you, and this time you couldn't hide your laugh.

‘Okay,’ was all you had to say to that one as you stifled your surprised snickers, the card small and to the point with its words as such.

‘I must say, with the way you wrote that letter to me, I expected more conversation with you, perhaps you are too overwhelmed by my presence to speak? I apologize if so, I never intended to strike you speechless when it is you who steals the words from my very throat until I cannot breathe,’ he continued as he leaned in, his goblet in hand and faintly staining his pale lips a little more red as he sipped again. You shot your friend a glance, of course your personalities would come off as so different, and you didn't want to get him disqualified at the last second when he was so looking forward to his upcoming date.

‘Guess I'm a bit camera shy,’ you didn't exactly lie, and he let out a long, ‘Ahhhhh~’ in understanding as he turned to watch the device film his co-worker.

‘I, too, used to fear the camera, I worried that it wouldn't be able to record me so my dreams of being a horror host would be dashed, but do not fret, my charming cadaver, I can attest that it is more afraid of you than you are of it, you are doing just fine.’ Despite the flowery - weedy? - language you had to admit that he sounded genuine in his advice, and you nodded to yourself as the sponsor finished up and the two of you prepared to be focused on again.

‘Thanks, I think I'm ready now,’ you whispered to him just before the audience was staring at you again, and you took a bigger sip to steel your nerves and held the card in your hand just out of view. 

‘Wasn't that hypnotizing, I feel the need to go to their digital address and present them with the phrase my associate has just shared so generously with you all.’ He wasted no time in getting back to it, he couldn’t afford to when they still needed to get to the movie before it got too late. ‘Now, it is time for our surprise second tale of sorrow, if you'll allow my guest to tell you all about it, the horrifying, the enchanting, the anticipated… Lord Dullahan~’ 

Your eyebrows raised, naming you after the Headless Horseman despite having a head was a bold move, and you stole a glance at your friend and channeled all of his energy as you sucked in a deep breath and felt the atmosphere settle into your bones. ‘Good evening, as a great enjoyer of the strange and unusual, I find myself quite at home here, my dear Fearless,’ you said as grandly as you could, making sure to project your voice loud so it could be picked up by not only the boom mic high above but also the audience, and your friend gave you two thumbs up before delving back into his popcorn with a big smile. 

Fearless, on the other hand, looked positively surprised by you, and you swore you might've seen actual hearts - medically accurate ones at that - in his eyes as he stood up and fell to one knee in front of the TV with a large swish of his cape behind him, his hand finding yours before you could blink.

‘The pleasure is all mine to host you, my dear Dullahan,’ he said like you were the only two in the room, briefly losing himself in the bit it seemed, and the person manning the soundboard thought now would be a perfect time to make use of that beating heart cue again. You heard your friend snicker so you doubled down and kissed his hand before pulling yours away to take another sip, going for a more mysterious air after your long silence in front of everyone else. You couldn't be sure under the lights and his makeup but it almost looked like his cheeks flushed a bit at the gesture, and you grinned at the taste of his own medicine before going back to your little ‘script’.

‘While the storm rages outside, why don't you join us by this warm fire while we watch a tale about what happens when you try to cheat death, and how you might just get exactly the answers you've been looking for along the way.’ You had no cape, but you still hid your face the same way he had, and when you glanced down and saw him still kneeling there you swore that he might actually think you were his soulmate with how genuinely in love he looked, he was a damn good actor under all the camp. ‘Doctor, I believe our guests might not be able to partake along with us as long as you’re down there, would you prefer to watch from your seat, or mine?’

This one threw him through a loop greater than he’d done to you, and when he looked unable to answer, his hands hovering over your own, your knee, his eyes never leaving your own, you then channeled every vampire movie you’d ever seen; you pet him under the chin, dragging your finger across his jaw to his chin in order to make him stand, and he did so easily he might actually be hypnotized, you had to give it to him for selling all this so seamlessly. Just when he looked ready to sit, you stood as well and took his seat, giving him yours to finish the bit, and the TV sparked back to life as he sat down and watched you instead of the screen. Behind you, the short played again just over your heads, and you nearly drank from his goblet before realizing that yours was still on the opposite table.

‘An indirect kiss from you would be like a dream, a nightmare on a stormy night, such bliss you could give me,’ he whispered as he went to drink from your own, and you shook your head and exchanged it back without distracting the audience too much from the film.

‘Sorry, maybe next time,’ you joked, your throat surprisingly dry even after such little speaking. ‘You’re good at improv, sorry for nearly derailing things, by the way.’

He shook his head, his disappointment over the kiss looking a little too real as he set his goblet back down on the other table. ‘Do not trouble yourself over such a trivial thing, none have ever rendered me as silent as the grave as you have, I fear it is my head that may roll by the end of the night,’ he waxed poetically at you, still hamming it up before a new disappointment showed on his face. ‘Ah, but alas, I may never get that privilege, you’re to leave me once the film begins, are you not?’

You paused, you’d almost forgotten about that part, in fact your friend was already starting to gather up his many wrappers and stuff them into the now empty popcorn bag, the flashing lights shining on him in his seat. You frowned, this was too much fun, more than you expected it to be, and you motioned for him to lean in; he eagerly did, his eyes wide and looking pitch black instead of brown in the darkness no matter how close he came to you. ‘Would I be able to stay for the film? I mean, I can move to the audience somewhere, or to the floor if there’s no room, I’ve just… never done anything like this before, I don’t want to leave, not right away, at least?’

He almost broke character as he actually looked away from you and to the people in the glass-partitioned studio where his live editor and director sat, and he had a wordless conversation with them in front of you while the audience focused on the scifi hell going on behind you. When he looked back he was himself again, or Fearless, more rather, and he reached across the TV’s expanse in search of your hand. You humoured him as thanks, and he nodded his head, already coming up with his next lines no doubt as the film above finished up.

‘How terrifying, again we’ve seen what lengths we will go to for love, and what harm we will bring to those in the way of those lengths,’ he said as soon as the screen was raised again, and you nodded at the camera and crossed your legs, his chair definitely more comfy than your own had been despite being the same.

‘Would you ever go to such lengths for love, Doctor?’ you asked in order to keep your presence worth it, and again he tripped over his own tongue as he gazed over to you.

‘I shall tonight, if anyone dares separate us before midnight,’ he threatened playfully with a theatrical wave of his hands, a subtle warning to those behind the glass after his conversation with them. ‘Speaking of, the clock is about to strike, soon it will be October, and I cannot think of better company to start off the season of witches and werewolves and welcome my fellow vampires back into the harvest moonlight.’ He stood and gave his audience a bow, a chorus of bats nearly making you jump as he dipped down low. ‘The time is upon us now, the countdown begins, and so I shall have to bid my guest adieu so we may partake in our grand finale of the evening; Lord Dullahan, if you’d please?’

He extended his hand back to you, and you tried to hide your disappointment as you took it, only for him to get you one last time; he drew you close and lowered his face into your neck, not actually biting you but still startling you enough to make you cling to him in a not so unpleasant fear. Your eyes widened as you sucked in a shaky breath, your fingers digging in what had to be uncomfortably into his bicep and shoulder, and you heard him chuckle before you realized what was going on and you fell limp in his arms.

‘A creature so lovely cannot be permitted to leave this castle alive! Forgive me, my innocent Dullahan, I could not resist the sweet call of your blood, your heartbeat, the way I had to feel it pulse under my piercing fangs… I swear I shall care for you here, this castle will forever be your home, and you will forever be mine!’ You pretended to look drowsily up at him, your grip returning to his arms since you’d gone a bit too limp and there was now a very real chance of him dropping you on the floor in front of everyone. You rubbed at your neck and winced, and when you brought your hand up you showed the red from your obscured glass now staining your fingers to finish selling it.

‘Whatever you desire, Master,’ you slurred, knowing that that kind of title usually went along with these kinds of situations, and you watched in stunned silence as the soundboard accidentally sent out what could only be described as a cartoonish boing sound before the correct sound of thunder crashed instead. Fearless hid his face as he bit his lip, his shoulders tensing as the soundboard operator was wildly chastised behind the glass, and you hid your face in his shoulder until your own laughing stopped. 

‘Very good, I knew I chose well,’ he continued after a brief moment of almost losing it, and you blew out a quick breath and let him help you stand, the loud song of a clock chiming letting you know that it was now midnight. ‘The clock tower! Hear its chimes, and know that midnight is upon us!’ he called out to everyone, and you weren’t surprised as everyone actually joined in on the countdown. As they slowly called out the numbers, Fearless grabbed your drink and handed it back to you, your arms hooked now that you guessed you were his, and when it struck midnight you both drank until your glasses were empty.

You frowned at the taste, that wasn't your fruit punch, and you noticed in the confusion that he’d actually handed you his own, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as you tasted actual wine, guess the colour wasn't just for show in his case.

‘An indirect kiss was indeed such a dream, what bliss,’ he repeated, and you felt your face grow just as red as the liquid in his goblet at how low his voice had become. ‘And now, our grand finale of the evening to start off our marathon to Halloween starting tomorrow night, featuring a marathon of horror as voted by you all out there. So, grab some wine, or blood, of your own, maybe find something tasty to bite into while you watch, as I present to you: The Creature Walks Among Us~’

The screen lowered for the final time, the audience getting up to replenish their snacks for the movie as the opening credits rolled, and your friend quickly threw out his trash and jogged over to you. ‘Great work, I knew you’d be a natural up there, let’s grab those tickets and head out, I’ve already seen this one a million times,’ he said excitedly as the producer came out with an envelope, Fearless finally leaving your side to go get it to present to you.

‘Yeah, actually I think I’m gunna stay,’ you confessed, and he looked between you and your host before something sly showed on his face.

‘For you, my dear Du- forgive me, I suppose you don’t need that title away from our other guests,’ Fearless said almost nervously as he approached with ‘your’ gift, and your friend snatched it from you the second it was placed into your hands.

‘Thanks so much, this was fantastic, I had a real blast tonight, I hope you two enjoy the movie, I know I sure will,’ he told you cheekily before rushing out, probably in the worry that someone might take them back from him, and you waved at his back a moment before turning back to Fearless.

‘Shall I grab a seat now that his is free? I’ve never seen this one before,’ you asked, and he glanced over to it before wrapping his arm - and cape - around your shoulders; he waved aside the solo guy taking up the couch and had him move to your friend’s vacant chair, and the short woman from before brought you a tray filled with complimentary snacks as you both sat down next to each other. She asked for your favourite drink, his already poured into a decorative glass shaped like a skeleton, clearly he also preferred to watch the movie from over here, and he let you sit against him as your own drink was brought over in a glass shaped like a bat curled around a branch. ‘Fancy, you do this with all your prize winners?’

‘No, just you,’ he whispered, and for a moment you actually looked around to see who’d spoken until it hit you that it was him, without the heavy accent. ‘Our mics are off, we can talk a little more normally while this is playing, unless you prefer Fearless?’ he asked, his voice changing back at the end, and you just blinked at him before grabbing some popcorn.

‘And who might you be, if not my dear Dr. Fearless?’ you teased, and this time you were sure he blushed as he let out a small yet nervous laugh.

‘Dwight, actually, and you are?’ You went to say your own name before you stopped, tried to say your friend’s instead, and he shook his head and held up a hand to get you to stop. ‘I figured it out a while ago, but I knew for sure when you said you’d never seen it after singing its praises in the letter,’ he chuckled, and you cringed and sat up a little straighter.

‘I’m sorry, he was really excited for the tickets he’s just- terrible with being put on the spot, I swear he actually is a fan,’ you explained quickly, Dwight looking you over as his face almost changed into someone different; it was then you noticed he’d taken out his fangs so he could enjoy the snacks, and the cute goofiness suddenly transformed into rather handsomeness even with the wig.

‘And you’re not, judging on how you acted with me tonight,’ he confirmed, and you could only nod. ‘But you are now, I take it, after the show you gave everyone?’

‘I might be swayed, you did turn me, after all,’ you joked, Dwight’s eyes drifting to your neck like he might actually try again. ‘The constant love confessions were a surprise though, he didn’t warn me about those when he got me to come on here.’

‘Not a surprise to me, seeing as they were all genuine,’ he said simply before taking a drink, the opening credits finally over as everyone sat back down again to enjoy the film.

‘They were-?’

‘Even if I could tell you weren’t the soulmate I thought you might be in his letter, I must say that I did wanna get to know you, all the same,’ he admitted before hiding himself in a big bite of chocolate, and you thought over everything he’d said the past almost hour as your heart raced a little faster. It was silly, and over the top, and you still had no idea what a Myotis was, but you couldn’t deny that this creature beside you was not only silly but also fascinating, and you sat a little closer to him as you reached across his lap to grab his drink.

‘What was it you said? “An indirect kiss would be bliss”?’ you wondered before taking a sip, his real front teeth biting into his bottom lip as he watched. You gave him your name along with his drink, and you finally saw how your strange luck had struck once again as he offered you a bite of chocolate to go along with your handful of popcorn, the movie barely holding your attention as the two of you whispered to each other all throughout it.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half Part Six

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: This is going to feed into an ask that was sent to me. Just needed to build that bridge, ya know.

Warnings: Some fluff; mostly angst. Soz. Whoops. Not beta-read.

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Summary: You can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman. 

“So, who is she?” 

Liz asks it with a knowing, cat-like smile on her lips, brow arching. The question raises Bruce’s hackles, but he manages to keep a calm, serene smile on his lips. 

“Who’s who?” He bats back unblinkingly. It takes everything in him to hold still, to keep his gaze on Liz’s, his hand steady on his glass of wine. She doesn’t blink first; she doesn’t laugh it off or change the topic. She waits. For ten long, uncomfortably quiet seconds, they both wait—until her boyfriend asks Bruce to pass the bread, and the date that Liz arranged for Bruce comes back from the bathroom, asking what she’s missed.

--  

“Why are you still up?” 

“Why are you calling if you didn’t want to talk to me?” 

Bruce can’t help but smile. Sure, he’d asked a stupid question, but you sound so damn sleepy and soft. He can just imagine you at his place, curled up in his bed, wearing another one of his borrowed shirts. He leans against the wall of one of Liz’s bathrooms, eyeing the door. 

“I want to talk to you,” He murmurs. “But I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t. I was just watching tv.” 

“You sound like you were sleeping.”

“I was just resting my eyes.” 

“Sure you were.” 

“Don’t get sassy with me, Bruce Wayne. I know where you live. Hell—I am where you live.” 

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything. If you do, tell Alfred, he’ll—” 

“It’s late. I’m not makin’ Alfred do anything. ‘Sides, if I want anything, I’ll get it for myself.” 

“So stubborn.” 

“Stubborn?” 

“Stubborn, yes you are.” 

“This from a man who rented out an entire restaurant and then took me to Burger King because I said he wouldn’t.” 

“That’s not stubbornness. It’s being decisive.” 

“Well I have decided that if I want anything, I’ll get it myself, and I won’t ask Alfred.” 

Bruce chuckles softly, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. 

“Alright,” He concedes, nodding and looking down at his feet. 

“Are you having a nice time with your friends?” 

Bruce glances toward the door, pursing his lips and considering. 

“Yeah,” He says, “Liz’s boyfriend is nice.” 

“Mind telling the paparazzi that?” 

Bruce smiles. “I’ll send out an email.” 

“Perfect.” 

“‘Liz Wyatt is unequivocally not dating Bruce Wayne’.” 

“Should be enough to satisfy Mich.” 

“Is that what matters to you?” 

“No, of course not.” 

He tries not to find the way you rush over your words so precious. 

“I was teasing,” He offers before you feel the need to explain yourself. 

“Ugh—That is not nice, Wayne. Wake a girl up and you start teasing her.” 

“I thought you were just watching tv.” 

“...I’m hanging up now,” You grumble. “Go—Be fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive with your fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive friends.” 

“Text me if you need anything before I come back. ‘kay?” 

“Not Alfred?” 

“Not Alfred.” 

“I will. Keep it down when you come in?” 

“Sure,” Bruce smiles, shifting from foot to foot. Then, against his better judgement, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do…Mwah.” 

Bruce chuckles before he hangs up, lowering his phone. He looks down at your contact, and the little photo he has of you there. He draws in a deep breath before he reaches down, unlocking the door and opening it. 

“Shit—” He hisses, jumping as he catches sight of Liz standing there, waiting. “This apartment is huge. Do you not have any other bathrooms?” 

“So who is she?” Liz plies.

“How thin is that door?” 

“Bruce.” 

“...Just someone I’ve been seeing.” 

“Who is…?” 

“What’s it matter?” 

“Explains why you didn’t so much as glance at Cici at dinner.” 

“That’s not true. I glanced at her plenty.” 

“C’mon, Bruce, you know that that’s not what I mean.” She glances over Bruce before proclaiming: “I wanna meet her.” 

“What for?” 

“Because when was the last time you ever dated someone? You didn’t even do that in college. Besides, you’ve met my boyfriend.” 

“And that was your choice.” 

“Are you ashamed of her or something?” 

The question punches him in the middle of the chest, his expression hardening. He’s taken hits from crowbars, guns, and baseball bats that have hurt less. 

“Of course I’m not.” It leaves him with a thread of steel that he’s never heard in his own voice—not outside of the suit, anyway. 

“Good,” Liz’s smile is as bright and as steady as ever. “I wanna meet her. Bring her over here for dinner, we’ll double.” 

“If I bring her, I don’t want this to be an interrogation.” 

“It won’t be an interrogation. It’ll be dinner.” 

Liz is still pointing that smug, satisfied little smile at him. She knows he won’t back down from a challenge, not like this. 

He’s too damn stubborn. 

-- 

Dawn is just beginning to creep over the city as he climbs into bed with you at the penthouse. The room is pitch-black; he can hardly make out your form under the sheets. He feels your warmth as he lifts the covers; he cuddles in close, curling his body around yours. He smiles as you stir, as you press back against his chest and rest a hand on his. 

“Bruce?” 

You're mumbling, and your voice is a little rough in a way that it wasn't on the phone last night. Maybe you had only been resting your eyes when he called, just on the edge of sleep on his couch. 

“Mhm,” He hums, gently wiggling his fingers against yours. 

“You just gettin’ in now?” 

Bruce rests his head between your shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“Of course not.” 

The lie is as blatant, as plain to him as the nose on his face. But you can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman. 

“Just got up to use the bathroom,” He tacks on. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“S’okay,” You murmur, pushing back against him again. 

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay.” Your grip tightens on his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. Bruce smiles, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He’ll worry about Liz and everything else in the morning…Well. Later in the morning. 

--  

“You busy tonight?” 

“You sound like you’ve been gargling with rocks,” You laugh, glancing up toward the door of the stockroom. “Are you just getting up now?” 

“No. No, been up before, and then uh…Down again. What time is it?” 

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.” 

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” 

“Frickin’ billionaires,” You mutter, scrubbing your hand over your face. 

“So?” Bruce pushes on, “You busy?” 

“Depends.”

“On?” 

“What you have in mind.” 

“Dinner with Liz?” 

You blink slowly, stunned. Dinner with her? Why the heck would Bruce want to bring you to dinner with Liz Wyatt? She’s all glamorous, and cool, and you’re…You. You work in a store, you’re not like Liz. You’re not even like Bruce. You don’t realize how long you’ve been in your own head until Bruce says, “...Hello? Are you—” The words drift away, like he's looking at his phone, then back in, “Are you still there?” 

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I was, uh—” You clear your throat. “I got distracted.” 

“So? You busy?” 

“Uh…” You glance around the room, like there’s a good answer scrawled on the wall somewhere. Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment before you manage, “N-no. I mean, no, I’m not busy.” 

“Great. I can pick you up from work?” 

“I should get changed after work, not, uh—My place? I mean, what time does she expect us over? Should I bring something? I can get a—” 

“Okay,” Bruce chuckles on the other side of the phone, halting your panicked questions. “We don’t have to go.” 

“No, we can go, I just—” 

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” 

“I’m breathing just fine—” 

“We’ll do it another night—or not at all, if you don't want to.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna go, I just—You know, I’m processing.” 

“Sounds like you’re freaking out.” 

“I’m not freaking out! I’m asking questions. I am asking relevant questions.” 

“You’re also repeating yourself.” 

“...We can go,” You insist. “I just need to get ready.” 

“Alright.” 

“How fancy should I dress?” 

“It’s just dinner at her place, you don’t have to get all…you know.” 

“Well, what are you wearing?” 

“Right now? Not much.” 

“Bruce.” 

“You should come back.” 

“What, right now?” 

“Mhm.”

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Alright—Hey.” 

“Yeah?” 

“...It’s gonna be fine.” 

You nod, though Bruce can’t see you. 

“I know,” You agree. “I wasn’t worried. I’m not worried.” 

“You’re doing that repeating thing again.” 

“Really hanging up now.” 

You draw your phone away from your ear, peering down at it warily for a moment. Dinner with Liz Wyatt. What do you wear to a model’s house? What do you bring to a model’s house? Oh, there’s gotta be answers for this all over Quora. 

--  

“You look beautiful.” 

“...Well don’t sound too surprised,” You grumble, straightening your sweater before turning to go back into the apartment. “I need like two more minutes, I just have to get on my earrings and my shoes.” 

“Those flowers for Liz?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Nice choice. She loves carnations.” 

“I know. I did some googling,” You admit guiltily, taking up one of the earrings from the table and putting it in. 

“Are they in a vase?” Bruce tacks in, tapping his finger against the glass of it. 

“Mhm. Keeps her from having to go and find one when we get there.” 

“Clever.” 

“I’m very smart.” 

“I know that.” 

You smile as you raise your other earring, fastening it. You glance back as Bruce cuddles up behind you and pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“...We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, brow furrowing. 

“...You’re making me think that you’re the one that doesn’t want to go,” You manage after a moment, glancing back at Bruce. He shakes his head, resting his hands on your hips. 

“I’m just making sure...Guess it’s time you met a couple of my friends, anyway. I’ve met yours.” 

“You’ve met one friend,” You argue, chuckling. 

“Mm. Where is Michelle?” 

“Work.” 

“She know where we’re going tonight?” 

“Nope, I just said we were getting dinner.” You reach out, taking up your jacket from where it’s hung over the back of your kitchen chair.  “If Liz is amenable, I’ll send Mish a selfie later, maybe surprise the shit out of her.” 

“All set?—I’ve got them,” Bruce reaches out, taking hold of the flower vase before you can pick them up. 

“Thanks. Is Alfred downstairs?” 

“Nope, I’m drivin’.” 

“Fancy.” 

--  

“...Is Liz’s apartment like yours?” You ask, shifting in the passenger seat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just, you know…Big, and…Nice.” 

“Yes, it’s both of those.” 

“Okay.” 

“Why?” 

“Just—Need to prepare myself so that my jaw doesn’t drop when I get inside.” 

“Your jaw didn’t drop when you got to my place.” 

“It was frozen shut at that point...Speaking of which,” You tack on, “Power’s fully up and running again, so I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“...You can stay if you want.” 

“In your hair?” 

Bruce casts you a side-long smile. “I just mean you can stay over whenever you like.” 

You smile, sliding down in your seat a little. “Noted, thank you…And you’re always welcome at ours, though it’s not as nice.” 

“Your bed’s comfy.” 

“That’s true.” 

You glance out of the tinted window, watching the swankiest skyscrapers in Gotham fly by. You feel Bruce take your hand, and a smile unwittingly grows on your lips.

“Shouldn’t you have both hands on the wheel, Mr. Wayne?” 

“I’ve got it,” He reassures. You hum in concession, grasping his hand with both of yours. You close your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. 

“We can—” 

“Don’t say we can still turn around,” You warn. 

“Alright.” 

You open your eyes, tipping your head to the side and watching Bruce. 

“Do you want to turn around?” You offer.

“No.” 

“Okay, so…We’re agreed.” 

You loosen your grasp on Bruce’s hand, sliding down in your seat a little more and resting your head on your hand. It’s a moment before Bruce pats your thigh, then draws his hand back. You’d actually managed to shake some of your nerves, but Bruce’s repeated insistence that you don’t have to go to dinner is making you more and more nervous. You draw in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments before you slowly push it back out. 

“Okay,” You hear Bruce mutter. You frown as he pulls into a street space, and glance around. 

“We can’t be here already,” You frown as he puts the car in park. 

“Listen,” Bruce turns in his seat to face you. Your stomach flips with nerves, and you brace yourself. “I’ve never introduced anyone to Liz—Or, to most of my friends. Not anyone that I've been more serious about.” 

Your brows raise at his admission. He's serious—about you? Bruce reaches out, taking hold of your hand again. 

“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out," He adds, "But I don’t know what we’re in for, either.” 

“...You’re nervous?” You realize, stunned. 

“Am I not allowed?” 

“Come on, you know that that’s not what I mean,” You mutter. You sigh, looking down at his hand again, turning your hand over in his, intertwining your fingers. 

“...I didn’t even consider the fact that you might be nervous,” You admit. You raise your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Your nerves flare as Bruce slips his hand from yours, but he takes hold of your jaw, turning your head and leaning in. He gives you a gentle kiss, thumb sweeping your cheek. You smile, patting his cheek as he draws back. 

 “We’re gonna be fine.” 

-- 

Dinner’s not bad—in fact, it’s quite nice. It’s catered. You’d typically ask if there’s anything that you could do to help with prep, but there’s an officious staff of three flurrying around Liz’s restaurant-grade kitchen. Liz is quite nice herself, but she and Bruce can sometimes make you feel a little on the outside. You don’t think they’re doing it on purpose—they have a shared history, a longer history than you have with Bruce. 

On the other hand, Liz’s boyfriend is lovely. He gives you smiles when the two of you are in the same conversational boat, watching as Bruce and Liz chatter on on topics that neither of you are familiar with. He lobs easy questions at you, backs Liz down from touchier questions, and keeps the wine and conversation flowing. You actually start to enjoy yourself, until—

“So you two are going to the gala together, of course.” 

Liz’s boyfriend grimaces, eyes flicking to you apologetically. It seems he can’t back her down from that one quickly enough. Your brow furrows, a smile frozen on your face as you repeat, “Gala?” 

“For the Wayne Foundation! Oh, don’t tell me Bruce didn’t tell you,” Liz glances between you and Bruce chastisingly. You turn your head to look at Bruce. He still has a smile on his face, but it’s that plasticized smile he gave your manager, and accompanied by a tight jaw. He won’t even meet your eye—hell, he’s not meeting anyone’s eye. 

“Bruce,” Liz tacks on scoldingly, “You haven’t even given her time to prepare. She’ll hardly have time to get a dress now—Leave that to me,” She adds, leaning in and resting her hand atop yours. “I know all the designers in Gotham, I’m sure they can rush something by the 21st.” 

“Oh,” You force yourself to laugh, shaking your head, “You know what—He did, but I’ve got work that night.” 

“Surely you can take off.” 

“I really can’t,” You insist. “My manager doesn’t like me very much. She barely forgave me for disappearing with Bruce for my lunch hour.” 

“What!” Liz’s eyes brighten as she leans back. “Oh, I have to hear that story.” 

It’s a safe enough diversion. You feel Bruce watching you; you don’t dare turn to fully meet his gaze, though you glance at him every now and again. Your mouth works on autopilot, but your mind is racing. Was Bruce even going to tell you about this? Or was this going to be one of those things that he does—those nights when he just goes off and acts like Bruce Wayne at before crawling into bed with you just before dawn? 

Frankly, you’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Next Part

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Just Breathe- Series

Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter. 

Here is the original ask for a refresher.

Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt.  He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from.  He realizes he loves her, but may lose her.  After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry. 

Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best. 

I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know. 

Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way. 

Happy Reading

Time Jump to 4 months ahead. 

Y/N POV

Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys! 

You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID! 

Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down. 

****

You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed  it, beige.

“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile. 

“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.

“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.

She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.

“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick. 

“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”

She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.” 

“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.

She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”

“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”

Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”

Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow. 

****

The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”

“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears. 

“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here. 

He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”

Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while. 

He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”

Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.

“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains. 

You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away. 

Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”

You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.” 

Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.

Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…

“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.

Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying.  “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.” 

“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”

“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”

Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths. 

She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face. 

Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.

Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”

“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.

“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears. 

You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”

“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”

Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. “What was the second?”

“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through. 

*******

Dean POV

He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if  Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.

He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.

Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV

Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door. 

“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”

You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her.  Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”

You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.” 

Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but  with an undertone of sadness. 

Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now. 

“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point. 

“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.

“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country. 

“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”

Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing  what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?

*****

The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be. 

Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.

His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse? 

Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything -  sets in.

*******

Y/N POV

“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”

“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.

Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you  look  pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”

You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality. 

“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”

“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.

“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get  this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him. 

“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start. 

Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”

 Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”

“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.” 

“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.

Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?   

“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.” 

His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”

*******

 Y/N and Dean POV 

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door. 

Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”

“So you're stalking me now?”

“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.

“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house. 

“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon. 

You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!

He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”

“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face. 

Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand. 

“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating  that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back. 

“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.

Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.” 

“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper. 

“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.

“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?

“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”

“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night. 

******

“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.

“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours. 

They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours. 

Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him. 

“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips. 

“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck. 

******

“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this! 

“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”

Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.

Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.

“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”

You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.

“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.

“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”

The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.

“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.

“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away.  It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.

“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.

“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.

You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.

Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”

You stare him down, not  giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.

Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.” 

He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”

You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast  Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”

“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.” 

You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch. 

Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…

*******

“Hey Sammy,”

“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.

Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him. 

Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”

Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”

“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.

Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him. 

Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out. 

*****

“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam. 

“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”

“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”

“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”

“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.

“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”

“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way. 

“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.” 

Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best  to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief 

Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance. 

Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”

Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that. 

“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage.    Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain. 

He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”

You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.

Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.

“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.

“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.

You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 7/10

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

FYI - Part 7 is Explicit. And nothing else makes sense without the first six parts but you do you!

PART SEVEN

                After being in different uniforms for several months pulling on denim feels weird, but he doesn’t exactly want to wear a uniform. Plus Bradley probably doesn’t think that the uniform is sexy at all if he’s Mav’s kid. And he’s pretty sure, but there is still a tiny seed of doubt that he’s maybe somehow wrong. He follows the directions that Bradley has given him and enters the Faculty of Engineering building, stopping briefly to look at the photos of faculty members and there’s still that same fucking picture of the Moana rooster so at least he knows he’s in the right place. He’ll hopefully learn what the hell is up with that.

                He enters the little office and there’s two people sitting there working on computers, looking unimpressed with life in general and he doesn’t really want to interrupt them, but there is a bell that says to ring. He doesn’t actually need anything from them though, so he feels awkward, not sure whether he should just sit down or let them know he’s here to see someone.

                “Can I help you?” One of them asks, taking the decision out of his hands, and he smiles politely.

                “Sorry, I’m just here to meet with Professor Bradshaw?”

                “Is he expecting you?”

                “Yes ma’am, he directed me to come here.”

                “Okay. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.”

                “I believe he’s in a lecture until three,” the other person adds.

                “Yes, he did tell me. It’s fine. I’m a little early. I’m happy to wait.”

                They go back to work, effectively ignoring him and he takes a seat, plays around on his phone, answers a couple of emails and then looks up when he hears approaching footsteps and someone humming.

                Bradley.

                His eyes travel up the heavy boots, dark jeans and that’s where the fashion sense ends because the man walking into the office is wearing a fucking awful bright printed shirt with roosters on it, sunglasses tucked into a white tank underneath and he’s grinning widely at Jake, hand reaching out and Jake just stares.

                And stares.

                He was right.

                Bradley Mitchell is Bradley Bradshaw.

                “Uh, are you okay?” Bradley asks, letting his hand drop when Jake fails to even stand up, let alone reach for his hand to return the gesture.

                “Bradley Bradshaw, as I live and breathe…”

                Bradley’s eyebrows go up but he’s smiling, eyes crinkling with amusement and Jake just can’t help smiling back. Pulls himself up out of the chair slowly, vacantly notes the forgotten little details. Bradley’s height. Breadth of shoulders. Little things he hadn’t really let himself pay attention to last time, and even now he’s wondering if he can control this sense of acceleration. It’s like free fall, but it’s carrying him forward rather than pulling him down.

                “Why people say they can hear you coming before they see you when you wear shirts like that is a mystery…”

                “Hey! One of my students got me this shirt!”

                “And yet you’re the one wearing it…” Bradley smirks then, and Jake can almost hear the reply, about how he’d let Jake take it off and he flushes. “Did you know who you were talking to?” Jake asks, watches Bradley shrug and look a little confused.

                “What do you mean did I know? Of course I knew, your email signature kind of gave it away.”

                Jake lets out a sharp laugh, because of fucking course Bradley knew the whole time. It makes perfect sense. They’re standing close, blocking the doorway now and he could just reach out with his fingers and touch the skin on Bradley’s forearm.

                “Wait, you thought I was someone different?”

                “I thought your name was Bradley Mitchell.”

                Bradley snorts a laugh, shakes his head and leans his body a little closer.

                “That was very heteronormative of you Lieutenant. And yet you didn’t seem surprised to see me…” Bradley says, and there is something speculative in his gaze.

                “Lieutenant Commander. And I mean, I kind of hoped…” He doesn’t want to mention that he only figured it out about a week ago, and while he was pretty damn sure he’d still needed to see him in person to confirm it.

                “Wait. You didn’t know in the beginning? And you got promoted?”

                “Uh. No. And Yes.” So much for not mentioning it.

                “What?”

                “No, I didn’t know who you were when we first started emailing back and forth, and yes I got promoted…”

                “Congratulations. I’m sure it was well deserved. So, how did you find the article?”

                “Mav gave it to me.”

                “Mav gave you the article?”

                “Yeah. Why?”

                “Of course he did… Fuck.”

                “Uh. Was that not okay?”

                “No. Just… he’s never going to let me live this down. He’s constantly trying to set me up with people…”

                “Oh thank fuck…”

                “What?”

                “Oh, I just… I was trying to figure out why the fuck he gave it to me in the first place. I wondered if it was something like that, because you’re very good at answering emails. But if Mav had told me to email you that would have been weird.”

                “So he just… gave you the article. And you…What? Emailed me out of the blue?”

                “Yep. Pretty sure Mav will take full credit.”

                “Yeah, of course he will. We could just… not tell him?” Bradley suggests, and the look on his face is mischievous and Jake doesn’t know about Bradley’s relationship with Mav other than that one phone call he heard months ago and what Bradley has just shared with him.

                “You keep secrets from your dad?”

                “When I get a chance to fuck with him? Of course!”

                Jake is pretty sure his cheeks are going to be sore from grinning so much.

                “Okay. I’m down for that… I mean. It’s you and you’re going to take the fall right? I’ve already tossed him out of the Hard Deck once. He tolerates me at best…”

                Bradley frowns then, goes to say something but a cough interrupts him, which they both turn toward.

                “There’s mail for you Bradley, as well as a few parcels. Have a good weekend.”

                “Thanks Susan, I’ll just… grab those now. I’m taking Jake on a quick tour of the labs. Have a good weekend!” Bradley looks suitably chastened and tugs Jake out of the office, because that was a very clear dismissal and he guesses having the conversation they were having right in the middle of their office was maybe not the best first impression.

   ��            “She’s known me for over twenty years, since I was an undergrad. Have to stay on her good side. Also they close the office at half-past three on Fridays…”

                Jake wonders if Bradley is aware he’s babbling a little, but he follows him into a side room, clearly a staff mail room behind a door with swipe card access and then Bradley is pulling a face.

                “Okay, there’s like six parcels. Here… help me carry them.”

                “Sure, it’s why I’m here right? Do unpaid work?”

                “Among other things,” Bradley says, and the look he gives Jake is incendiary. There is no doubt that they’re both more than on the same page and Jake wants nothing more than to kiss him. Knowing now that Mav was trying to set Bradley up with him, that he clearly thinks that Jake is somehow worth Bradley’s time and energy.

                “I really want to kiss you.”

                “You want our first kiss to be in the mail room at my work?”

                “You got a better idea?”

                “Yeah. Yeah,” Bradley breathes, eyes dark. “Come on.”

                It’s no hardship to follow him, Bradley glancing over his shoulder to double-check Jake is still there. He guesses that they’re heading to Bradley’s office, because that’s private and hopefully has a lock. He’s not counting his eggs before they hatch or anything, but he’s hopeful. Very hopeful.

                “This is me, just let me unlock it…”

                He watches as Bradley shoulders the door open, using his foot to hold it open for Jake and he lets it swing shut behind them. Bradley unceremoniously dumps his mail and parcels on his desk (it’s a large desk Jake notes, sturdy looking), takes the parcels from Jake’s hands before giving them the same treatment. Then he’s stepping into Jake’s personal space, hand resting on Jake’s hip and yeah…

                “Hi…”

                “Hi… just, uh, a quick question. You never mentioned that you knew me. This whole time. Why not?”

                “I thought you’d maybe forgotten meeting me,” Bradley states, and he doesn’t seem to be upset at the idea and Jake frowns.

                “Forget you? You think that’s possible?”

                The slow smile transforms Bradley’s face and Jake feels his skin prickle with anticipation.

                “Well, when you said Mav hadn’t given you a list of tasks to do, and after you said you had to take it easy I figured you were maybe dealing with concussion… so…” Bradley shrugs, his lips making a little half-smile, half-smirk and Jake sways his hips forward, letting an arm wrap around Bradley’s waist.

                “Regular Sherlock huh?”

                “Better than you, you thought I was someone else for months.”

                “Figured it out eventually…”

                “Yeah you did… Now, you still want that kiss?”

                “Yeah.”

…             …             …

            “I’m not going to stop you,” Bradley replies, wetting his lips and he hears Jake’s breath catch. He shifts forward a little, wants to be encouraging but not overwhelming. His own chest feels heavy with anticipation. They meet half-way, and it’s soft, exploratory, slow like they have nowhere else to be in the world and don’t want to rush. He wants to taste, and lick, and take Jake apart and have Jake take him apart in turn… he rests his other hand on Jake’s hip, just holding gently, thumbs brushing over fabric every so often. He’s a little scared that it might all just… disappear.

                It doesn’t. Not at all. Instead Jake’s pressing against him, his own hands on Bradley’s back, fingers grabbing fabric, pulling him close and Bradley goes, no reason not to. Lets Jake edge a thigh between his, meets the gentle roll of Jake’s hips with his own not-quite-as-gentle roll. He’s had sex in his office before, but it’s been previous partner’s ways of trying to coax him home, away from work. His life hasn’t changed at all, except for his almost daily email exchange with Jake for the last few months. This right here isn’t an attempt to make Bradley go anywhere, hell, it could have started in the fucking mail room and as Jake’s hand rubs over Bradley’s hardening cock he’s very glad that he insisted on moving to his office.

                “Uhm, not that this isn’t great, but are you sure you…”

                “Yeah, yes, fuck yes… just… been a while okay?”

                “No judgement. This is a judgement free zone…”

                “Oh my god, shut up…”

                “Keep my mouth busy then…” Bradley challenges and yeah, he guesses he does like them with a little fire.

                It’s bruising this time, Jake’s lips on his, teeth biting, and he responds in like, lets his own fingers dig into the flesh of Jake’s ass, pull him close. Ignores the grunt of discomfit as Jake’s hand gets caught between their bodies; he can feel fingers working on a belt and he pulls back a little to give Jake space, because Bradley sure as hell isn’t wearing a belt. If he gets to put his hands on Jake’s cock he’s all onboard for being a little more accommodating in terms of space. He flicks his own jeans open, pushes the fly down and then Jake’s hands are there instead, shoving his jeans down and Bradley switches tack easy enough, moving his hands to Jake’s pants and underwear, pushing them down.

                “Okay?” Bradley asks, not really waiting for an answer as he wraps a hand around Jake’s cock and squeezes, his mind mentally categorizing anything in his office he could potentially use as lube (there is stuff, but not stuff he would want to use, nothing that won’t make less of a mess). Not that Jake seems to mind, his breath catching in a high-pitched whine which makes Bradley feel smug despite not having done much of anything yet. Jake’s hand circles Bradley’s cock, tight dry pressure and he groans, thrusts into it. Jake’s other hand runs through Bradley’s hair, brings him back to kissing and Bradley slides his tongue into Jake’s mouth.

                Their hands on each other are fast and dry, he’d love to take his time, draw it out, but he doesn’t think Jake would appreciate it. Not if it has been a while, and he’d said he was on deployment for seven months. He doesn’t want to assume anything, they didn’t make any promises in any of the emails, other than whatever they’re doing now, and that wasn’t exactly a promise but a potential… something. He pulls away, thrills at Jake’s annoyance but he licks his hand, dribbles excess saliva into his hand and wraps his hand back around Jake’s cock.

                “Want you to focus on coming okay? Want to use your come to jerk off…”

                “Oh fuck…”

                “Nope. Just this until we get to my bed…You need to tell me when you’re close okay?” He tightens his hand and speeds up, licks at Jake’s neck and sucks gently at the pulse point, feels the very faint stubble scrape over his bottom lip as he drags his mouth over Jake’s jaw. “Okay?”

                “Oh fuck… okay, yeah, okay Bradley…”

                He likes the sound of his name in Jake’s mouth, especially the broken breathing, like he’s struggling to get enough oxygen. Jake’s hands don’t leave Bradley’s body, but they lack decisive movement, and he takes that as a sign he’s doing a decent enough job at keeping Jake on task. He hitches forward a little, looks down at the view between their bodies, clothes askew, cocks hard and wrapped in fists, movements frantic like they’re doing this is a bathroom somewhere and could be walked in on any second.

                “Going to take my time with you next time…” Bradley promises, his hips jerking without his conscious thought and Jake seems to jerk in response, his body invisibly connected.

                “Close close close… oh shit…”

                He manages to catch most of Jake’s come in his hand, although some of it lands on his shirt. He doesn’t care. Wraps his hand around his own cock, spreads Jake’s come around. He’s close enough now that it won’t take much, not with all his senses lit up with the sounds sights smells and taste of Jake kissing him, whispering how he’s looking forward to Bradley taking his time next time. How next time he wants to get his mouth on Bradley and that, that has him coming, hips stuttering and…

                “Fucking hell…”

                He rests his head on Jake’s shoulder, lays tiny little butterfly kisses on the skin close to his mouth as sucks in a few breaths. Blood is rushing in his ears, his hand is sticky, cock stickier. He glances down and yeah, there’s a mess between them but it’s mostly on him. Pulling back slightly he reaches for the box of tissues on his desk, dislodges a pile of paper and a layer of dust on top of the box. He tugs a few free and passes them over, a few more for himself, glad he’s got a couple changes of clothes available to him right there. He kisses Jake again, softly again.

                “That take the edge off?”

                “Yes. So fucking good.”

                “We’re definitely doing that again.”

                “Hmm. I could be convinced.”

                “Glad to hear it.”

                “You know, I am actually interested in a tour though.”

                Bradley laughs, throws the tissues into his trash can, making a mental note to buy the cleaning staff an amazing gift.

                “Well, this is my office.”

PART 8 (be warned it's 8k long - maybe go have a drink or snack?)