#I reiterate... the au where I never wanted any of this. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option.

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen.

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over.

You shout above the whipping of the airways.

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him.

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full.

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go.

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes.

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet.

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!”

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin.

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment.

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again.

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow.

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down.

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?”

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy.

You hum, leaning into him and smirking.

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors.

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders.

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this.

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago.

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him.

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone.

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?”

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back.

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled.

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are.

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.”

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet.

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment.

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.”

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently.

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath.

“Getting there.”

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that.

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise.

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect.

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room.

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks.

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air.

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?”

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.”

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.”

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.”

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next.

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in.

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses.

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection.

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.”

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated.

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.”

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike.

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

“She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of.

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock.

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty.

Your sentence is whispered.

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.”

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes.

How could he be the one thing you were looking for?

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself.

Simon was an enigma.

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath.

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver.

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins.

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you.

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in.

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs.

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space.

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another.

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks.

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself.

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing.

You know it can’t have been good.

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.”

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should.

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.”

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver.

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm.

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh.

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear.

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.”

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard.

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together.

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white.

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.”

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree.

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering.

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him.

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy.

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you.

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth.

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway.

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward.

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers.

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better.

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals.

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants.

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down.

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices.

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of.

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen.

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive.

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes?

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently.

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation.

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?”

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.”

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck.

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.”

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely.

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?”

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes.

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole.

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge.

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall.

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it.

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street.

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.”

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers.

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly.

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order.

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless.

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air.

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand.

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement.

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips.

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?”

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago.

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better.

Simon presses a kiss into your temple.

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there.

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew.

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern.

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat.

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl.

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about.

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought.

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window.

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it.

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows.

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.”

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?”

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.”

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank.

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you.

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge.

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops.

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood.

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something.

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air.

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air.

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon.

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation.

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back.

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason.

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath.

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another.

How dare anyone do something like that to you.

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear.

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.”

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless.

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks.

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.”

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment.

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully.

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat.

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air.

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.”

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.”

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body.

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.”

You spare a strangled huff at that.

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory.

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.”

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble.

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath.

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub.

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done.

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different.

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint.

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.”

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent.

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief.

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.”

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin.

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more.

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism.

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!”

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath.

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.”

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.”

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.”

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in.

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.”

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing.

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare.

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash.

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.”

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer.

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering.

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

“What are you—?!”

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips.

TAGS:

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lxvemaze · 1 month ago

Text

⫸ you know i love you

synopsis. when your best friend needs to show his parents that he's settled down enough for them to offer him a job in their company, he asks for your help- in the form of a fake engagement.

pairing. nonidol!/ceo's son!cha eunwoo x reader

genre. ceo's son au, childhood friends to lovers, fake relationship

wc. 10k!! (longest fic i've ever published, bear with me.)

warnings. some mild sexual references, some hurt lots of comfort, dongmin is silly, is jinwoo a wingman or a shit starter? we'll never know

a/n. this idea popped into my mind and i just loved it so much, i had to write it. happy holidays, ya'll!

January 15th

“There is no way in hell you’re actually that stupid.”

“I’m not stupid! You’re just not hearing me out!” Dongmin called out from the small couch in the living room of your sixth-floor studio apartment as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, waiting for the water for your tea to boil.

You and Dongmin have been friends for over twenty years now. His father was the CEO of a huge company, his mother was the CFO of the same company, and your mother was their housekeeper. She was also basically Dongmin’s nanny, tutor, and personal chef. Starting from the age of six years old, your mother worked out a deal with Dongmin’s parents so that every day after school, their personal driver would pick Dongmin up from his fancy private school, then drive to your significantly less fancy public school, and then drive the two of you back to Dongmin’s house, where the two of you would hang out and do your homework while your mother took care of things around the house until Dongmin’s parents came home.

This routine lasted until the two of you graduated high school. Over the years, the two of you had become close as could be, even hanging out on the weekends. There was never room for any doubt in your friendship; even though Dongmin had gone to Oxford University in the UK, which was arguably the most extra school he’d gotten accepted into (you had begged him to go to Columbia University so you could visit New York), you stayed home and worked in your father’s little corner store. But even so, Dongmin traveled home for every long weekend, every holiday, and every vacation he had. And he spent all the time he was home with you.

You’d done a lot of dumb things to get each other out of a lot of sticky situations in the past, but what he was suggesting now was a new low.

“Well, I don’t really think getting married is the best course of action.” You mused as you poured the hot water into the two waiting mismatched coffee mugs.

“You’re not listening!” Dongmin exclaimed as he hopped over the back of the couch and strolled into the kitchen, leaning on the counter as he watched you steep the tea.

“Then explain to me how this is a good idea.”

“Because. I’m pushing thirty now-”

“You’re twenty seven.”

“Pushing thirty. And my folks want to retire soon, and my dad wants me to take his place, which is like, what I’ve been shooting for since I was a kid. But my mom is pushing back because she thinks I’m not mature enough. She says that she won’t even think about letting me join the company until I’ve shown that I’ve settled down.”

“You go to the club literally every weekend. I think I might be on your mom’s side on this one.” You handed Dongmin his mug of tea and strolled into the living room, settling down on the couch, and picking up the remote to browse for a movie to watch.

“Yeah, but if I stop going to the club for a while and make it look like I'm in a serious relationship, then my mom will see how mature I’ve gotten, and let me join the company!” Dongmin gleefully relayed his plan to you as he stole the blanket from your lap and wrapped it around himself, curling into the other corner of the couch.

“And you think that us getting married is your best bet?”

“Not married! Fake engaged. There’s a difference.”

“Let me reiterate; you really think getting fake engaged to me is the best idea?”

Dongmin turned to you, confusion written all over his face, “yeah? You’re like, my best friend.”

“Well, duh. I just think your mom would prefer it if you got engaged to like, another rich girl.”

Dongmin rolled his eyes and snatched the remote out of your hand, scrolling for a moment before pressing play on a random nature documentary. “I think my mom would see it as a win either way. She’s been on my ass to get into a serious relationship since I started university. Which is totally unfair, by the way! Jinwoo hasn’t had a date since middle school, and he’s already on track to be the COO at his dad’s company. And Myungjun’s had like, twelve relationships in the past year and a half, and his startup is already turning a massive profit.”

“Rich people problems.” You sighed, watching as a lion on TV devoured a gazelle.

“Yeah, it is. But I never ask you for anything. I think you owe me. And I can’t keep working at Minhyuk’s parents company forever. It’s getting kind of embarrassing.”

You remembered all the times that Dongmin paid to have you flown out to England, paid for you to stay in fancy hotels, car service, room service, treated you to extravagant meals, the tens of thousands of dollars worth of birthday and Christmas presents he’d bought you over the years. And you realize, he’s right. You do owe him.

“Okay…We need a plan.”

Dongmin practically jumped out of his seat at your sudden agreement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, reaching over to grab the remote, turning the TV down. “But we’re gonna need it to be airtight if we want this to be believable.”

“You’re the smart one. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

As you looked at Dongmin’s gleeful face, you almost regretted agreeing to his scheme. Dongmin saw the crease between your brows, and reached over to poke your shoulder.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know it’s kind of a lot.”

You brushed him off with a shrug of your shoulder. “No, you’re right. I owe you. This is honestly the least I could do.”

“Then let’s do this.” He grinned, holding up his pinkie finger in front of you. You playfully rolled your eyes with a scoff before linking your pinkie in his.

“Let’s do it.”

January 18th

“No, that one’s not big enough.”

You sighed as Dongmin rejected yet another one of your suggestions. “I’m the one who has to wear it, why do you have such a strong opinion?”

“Because I’m the one buying it!”

You and Dongmin were currently at a swanky jewelry shop searching for the perfect engagement ring. At seven in the morning. On a Thursday. Neither of you were in a particularly good mood.

“Shouldn’t you want a smaller ring, then?” You questioned his logic, looking up at him with a cocked brow.

“Hey, only the best for my future wifey-poo.” Dongmin made a kissy face at you, causing you to audibly groan in disgust, pushing his face away. You ignored his giggles as you felt your phone buzz. You saw the most recent text was from your father, asking you to come into work early to help him open his corner store.

“Okay. Well, I have to go to work.”

“Nooooo! You can’t make me do this by myself! The dinner’s next weekend and we won’t have time to meet up again before then.” He protested, grabbing your arm and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a spoiled child- which he was.

“I would say I trust you, but I don’t. You know my ring size, I don’t want anything big, I don’t want anything gold, do not get me anything square cut, and for the love of God, please just ask the lady at the counter for help instead of just buying me the first thing you see that you don’t hate.” You patted his shoulder and made your way out the shop, waving a goodbye to him over your shoulder. You could see Dongmin’s downtrodden expression in the reflection on the glass door as you left. You just hoped he would get you something understated. You would be having to wear it every day for the foreseeable future.

You and Dongmin had spent nearly three hours the other night working out your plan.

Dongmin had invited his parents over for dinner at his swanky penthouse next Saturday night. He’d hired a fancy chef to make the dinner, and a decorator to make his apartment look not so “twenty seven year old single man-child”. After the main course and right before dessert, he would stand from his chair and announce that he had something important to say. Then, he would turn to you, get on one knee, and propose with whatever hopefully not-ugly ring he’d chosen today. To which his parents would hopefully be overjoyed and proud, and after at most a few months, they’d realize how mature he’d gotten since getting engaged, and give him the job in their company.

You weren’t sure it would work, you weren’t sure how long it would take, but you were determined to go through with it. After all the amazing opportunities and experiences that Dongmin had given you over the years, you figured that the least you could do was pretend to be his fiancee for a few months.

January 27th

Today was the day he would propose. You’ve never been this stressed in your entire life. A package had been delivered to your door with a note from Dongmin inside, “Blue has always been your color.” You had been staring at the dress in the box for the past ten minutes, trying to not think about how many thousands of dollars he’d spent on it. He was right, though. He’d taken you to Japan for spring break a few years ago and the two of you’d gotten a color palette analysis done. You’d have assumed he’d forgotten all about it, but the beautiful navy dress on your bed proved otherwise.

You looked at the time on your phone, the numbers 4:27 glared up at you, eliciting a sigh from your mouth. The weight of your actions was starting to weigh down on your shoulders. Why did you have to agree to this? It’s not like you didn’t like Dongmin’s family- they were fine! From the limited interactions you’d had with them over the years and from what Dongmin’s told you about them, they were perfectly nice people. But it was only natural for you to be a little bit intimidated by them. They were wealthy, powerful people, and you were about to get “engaged” to their son.

You got ready slowly, almost unconsciously dragging out the process as long as you could. Your phone rang right as you were slipping on the sleek black pumps Dongmin had bought for you last summer while he was vacationing in Paris.

“Yes?” You picked up the phone, looking at yourself in the mirror one last time before meeting your doom. You looked good. Hopefully good enough.

“I’m waiting in the car. Are you ready?” Dongmin’s pixelated voice rang out through the phone. You grabbed your purse, put on your coat, took a deep breath, and walked out your door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Without another word, Dongmin hung up the call. You scoffed and dumped your phone in your bag. You silently thanked whatever invisible force was on your side that day, as the elevator in your building that had been broken for the past two months had finally gotten fixed. You were not looking forward to walking down six flights of stairs in those heels.

As soon as you walked outside your building, you spotted Dongmin’s fancy black car. You couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, but you knew it was him when his driver stepped outside and walked around the car to open the back door for you. You slid into the backseat where Dongmin was playing a game on his phone. He looked up at you briefly, mumbling a “Hey”, and going back to staring at the screen.

You rolled your eyes at your iPad kid of a best friend and rested your head on the window as the car drove through the busy city streets.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse. No matter how many times you’d been there, you would always be in awe at the massive building.

“You okay?” You turned to look at Dongmin as he spoke, meeting his eyes, seeing the concerned look on his face, you put on a smile, and lightly punched his shoulder as his driver opened the door.

“Of course. Not like I’m about to pretend to get engaged to my best friend in front of his family or anything.”

Dongmin didn’t look convinced as he took your hand in his before you had the chance to leave the car. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

His words didn’t do anything to quell the uncertainty in your stomach. But still, you put on a brave face and playfully rolled your eyes. “As if anyone else would be willing to get engaged to you.”

Your words seemed to sate Dongmin’s concern as he rolled his eyes in turn and shoved your arm, prompting you to step out of the car. You looked up at the tall building in front of you and took a shaky breath. It’s not like it was real. You didn’t actually have to get married to him or anything. It was all temporary.

“They’ll be here any minute. We should go up.” Dongmin’s warm breath on your ear caused you to jump, prompting him to flash you a confused look. You shook your head and followed him into the building, mentally hyping yourself up for the night that was to come.

“You look beautiful, darling.”

Dongmin’s parents had arrived ten minutes after you had, and you had been internally screaming the entire time since then. You were sat next to Dongmin at the table in his huge dining room with his mother sitting directly across from you.

“Ah, thank you so much. You know, Dongmin bought pretty much my entire outfit.” You replied, doing your best to keep your shaky hands still as you cut through your expensive steak. You could see Dongmin trying to hold in his laughter in the corner of your eye. Clearly seeing you in intense mental turmoil was funny to him.

“Oh, our Dongmin has always been such a thoughtful boy.”

Thoughtful. Hilarious.

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“So, dear, are you still working at your fathers shop?”

You took a sip of wine and wiped your fingers on your napkin. “Yeah, I am. But I’m planning on applying to some jobs in corporate. Even if just working in the mail room or reception.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure we could find you a job somewhere in our company. I’m sure I know someone that could use a secretary or assistant.” Dongmin’s father spoke up, causing Dongmin to choke on his wine. You lightly patted his back as he coughed into his elbow, offering a tight-lipped smile to his confused parents.

“That’s very kind, but you really don’t have to do that.” You spoke over Dongmin’s coughing.

“We’d love to have you in our company, really. You and your parents are practically family.”

Dongmin took a deep breath as his coughing fit came to an end. “Are you guys for real?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be?”

Dongmin stayed quiet for the rest of the main course, leaving you alone to continue awkwardly conversing with his parents, and ignoring every kick under the table that you gave him.

“So Dongmin, why did you set up this dinner, anyway?” Dongmin’s mother asked, leaning back in her chair as dessert was being made.

“Well…” Dongmin started. ‘Here we go’ you thought as your leg started shaking. “You know that the two of us have been friends for a long time.” He continued, taking your hand in his, looking at you with what anyone on the outside would see as fondness, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to not burst out laughing.

“I hope this doesn’t come as a shock to you two, but we’re ready to take the next step…” Dongmin rose from his seat and pushed it to the side, immediately dropping to one knee in front of you. He softly spoke your name as he looked up at you. You could tell he was about to lose it.

You heard his mother gasp from the other side of the table as he continued, “You’ve been by my side for as long as I can remember. You’ve been my best friend, my partner in crime, and my biggest supporter. We’ve been through every step of our lives together. But I want to go through the next part of our lives…With you as my wife.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that his speech was very sweet. But you did know better. And now you were the one struggling to hold in your laughter.

Dongmin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, “Will you marry me?” He opened the box and your jaw hit the ground. He did good. He did really good. The ring was exactly what you wanted. It was a small round cut diamond surrounded by smaller gems on a beautiful silver band.

You ecstatically nodded your head, holding out your hand for Dongmin to slip the ring onto your finger. The two of you stood up and hugged each other tightly. “I asked the lady at the counter.” He whispered in your ear. You giggled into his shoulder before his mother spoke up.

“Well, it’s about time!”

The smiles immediately dropped off of your faces.

…What?

The two of you pulled away from each other, slowly turning to look at his parents as they beamed at the two of you from across the table.

“The two of you have been attached at the hip since you were kids. It was only a matter of time.” His father agreed, holding his wife’s hand as the two of them looked up at you with an endearing gaze.

“...Huh?”

February 11th

“Oh yeah, my mom is throwing a valentine’s day party and she wants to know if you’re gonna be there.”

Dongmin was in your kitchen drying and putting away dishes as you washed them.

“Why would I be there?”

“...Because we’re engaged?”

“Oh, yeah.”

You hadn’t actually forgotten. You couldn’t now that your parents knew. As soon as your mother had shown up to work the day after the dinner, Dongmin’s mom was immediately gushing about the engagement that you had forgotten to let your mom in on. Your mom immediately called your dad to tell him about it, and then he immediately called you.

You couldn’t just tell them that it was a lie- they were just so happy about it, you didn’t have the heart to break it to them.

“I can’t just show up to my parents' valentine's party without my fiancée.” Dongmin whined as he put away your ancient cast-iron frying pan. You rolled your eyes behind his back.

“You don’t have to show up at all, actually.”

“Let’s be real for a second. There is no way that my mother will let me get out of going to one of her parties, and I really don’t want to go by myself.” Dongmin gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which caused you to physically hold yourself back from laughing in his face.

“Pleeeeease. I’ll buy you a new outfit for it. I swear to God, you’ll be the prettiest girl there. I’ll have to be constantly throwing hands to keep those gross corporate men’s hands off my gorgeous fiancée.”

“Whatever. I’ll go. You don’t have to buy me a new outfit.” You relented, drying off your hands before opening the fridge to grab a soda.

“You aren’t wearing your ring.”

You looked down at your left hand before looking back up at Dongmin, “Yeah. Our parents aren’t around, why would I?”

You didn’t see Dongmin’s pout as you flopped onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you settled into the squishy furniture.

“Okay, but I spent a lot of money on that rock. Also, didn’t you say it put off that creepy guy who works at the coffee shop?” Dongmin hopped over the back of the couch to sit right next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Well, yeah. I wear it in public. But why would I wear it when I’m in the comfort of my own home?” You moved his arm from your shoulder, opting to ignore the disappointed sigh that came from your best friend.

“I’ll take you shopping for the party tomorrow. Get you a cute dress and shoes or whatever.”

“You don’t have to spend money on me, Dongmin.”

“I don’t care. I want to.”

You glanced at Dongmin to see him pouting with his hands in his lap, watching silently as you scrolled through Netflix instead of snatching the remote from your hands and picking a show like he usually would. You sighed and laid your head on his shoulder, feeling his breath stop for a second before he rested his head on top of your own.

Dongmin is your best friend. He’s helped you so much in so many ways, and you genuinely would do anything for him, and you think he’d do the same for you. Ever since you agreed to get fake engaged to him, there was a thought in the back of your mind; “What if this ruins our friendship?” You pushed it aside at first, brushing it off as a stupid anxiety-induced worry. But every day since then, the thought has only grown more and more prominent.

“I’m free after two.”

You could feel the smile in Dongmin’s cheeks and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you finally settled on a movie.

God, you hoped you were wrong.

February 14th

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“They are closed.”

“You better not be peeping.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but I actually really do not want to see you naked!”

You were in Dongmin’s bedroom getting ready for his parents' valentine's day party. You’d have gotten ready at your own apartment, but Dongmin had called you over to help him decide on what to wear, so you decided to just bring your clothes with you and get ready there. Which was probably a good idea, because unlike your apartment, Dongmin’s penthouse actually had a full-length mirror and good lighting.

Dongmin had taken you shopping the day before, and despite your protesting, bought you an inordinately expensive, albeit beautiful, blush-pink dress, and a pair of white pumps. They were beautiful, and although you appreciated Dongmin being so willing to spend money on you, you hated knowing the actual number that he was spending.

“Okay, you can look now.”

You waited patiently for Dongmin’s response after he opened his eyes, but he just looked at you with a blank stare. You looked down at yourself, thinking you might have forgotten to zip a zipper, or your dress had gotten stuck somewhere.

“What?”

“No. Nothing. It looks good.” Dongmin cleared his throat and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly typing something before standing up and leaving the room. “You coming?” He called over his shoulder.

“...Okay…” You said under your breath, grabbing your phone from his vanity and following him out of the room. You felt Dongmin’s eyes on you as you put on your coat, looking up at him with a raised brow, he quickly turned away and busied himself with tying his shoes.

“Okay, let’s go.” Dongmin quickly hurried out the door, leaving you behind in a confused state. You shook your head before turning out the lights, setting the alarm system, and locking the door behind you.

You knew you were in for a long night.

“Well, aren’t you two just a beautiful couple!” Dongmin’s mother called the two of you out immediately as you walked through the doors to their impressive home. You were no stranger to the glamour and wealth of the Lee’s life, but it still threw you off to see so many beautiful, wealthy people all in one place.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee.” She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, and her son with a tight embrace. You looked around the room to see some vaguely familiar faces; you recognized Park Jinwoo’s parents conversing with Dongmin’s father, someone by the drinks table who you were pretty sure was named Yoon Sanha, and the three of Dongmin’s friends that you were actually on a first-name basis with, Bin, Myungjun, and Minhyuk, greeted the two of you with a wave from the other side of the room.

“Well, you two have fun! We have food, drinks, desserts, whatever you like!”

“Thanks, mom.” Dongmin took your hand and led you over to his friends, meanwhile, the sudden realization that you hadn’t seen any of these people since long before your fake engagement hit you like a ton of bricks. You could see them smirking at the two of you as you neared. Dongmin felt the shift in your demeanor and he turned to look at you, your face had paled as if all the blood had drained from your face.

“Just be chill.” He whispered to you as you neared the small group. You gave him a small nod, and quickly plastered a smile back onto your face.

“Hey guys how’s it-” Dongmin was cut off by Myungjun grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that the two of you were even dating! And now you’re engaged!”

“Yeah, man. How could you not tell us?” Minhyuk added on as Bin shook his head in disappointment at the two of you.

“Believe me, it was a surprise for us, too.” You joked as Myungjun turned to you and wrapped his arms around you in a back-breaking hug.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. I think we were just all surprised it took you two this long.” Bin smiled at the two of you as he took a sip of his champagne. You and Dongmin briefly made eye contact before awkwardly smiling at the group.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s been saying.” Dongmin slipped his hand back into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You gave him a small smile, trying to give off the best “head-over-heels in love” vibe that you could. You weren’t sure how convincing you were being, but Dongmin always was a good actor. He’d make it work.

At some point in the party, you’d ended up at the drinks table, a champagne flute in your hand as you leaned against the wall, trying to recharge from being bombarded with questions and congratulations from people you’d never met. You weren’t sure where Dongmin had ended up- the last you saw, he’d been taken aside by Minhyuk’s father to talk about some business stuff that you didn’t understand nor particularly care about.

You were content with standing in the corner people-watching before someone you hadn’t spoken to for years sidled up to you.

“Well, don’t you look nice?”

You froze in place when you heard the voice of Park Jinwoo addressing you. You slowly turned your head in his direction. Shit. He looked really good. You’d had a little bit of a crush- no, you’d had a massive crush on him while you were in highschool. He was one of Dongmin’s closest friends back in the day, but you’d only seen him a few times since he’d gotten back from university. You thought he was really cute back then, but he’d really grown into his looks. He’d gotten a little bit taller (at least, he was a little bit taller than you, now), he’d gotten a nice haircut, you could tell he’s been hitting the gym, and from your many late nights staying up late stalking his Instagram, you knew that he’d gotten a few tattoos. And he’s single.

“Oh…Hey, Jinwoo. Nice to see you again.”

“No need to be so formal. We’ve known each other a long time.” Jinwoo stood next to you and leaned on the wall, mirroring your stance. “Congrats on the engagement by the way. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Really?” You scoffed, taking a sip of champagne, “seems like you’re the only one who didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that you were into someone else until now.”

His statement caused you to choke on your champagne. You cleared your throat and shook your head. Jinwoo stayed silent, simply smirking at you as he took a sip of wine. “Well, I guess you were wrong.”

“Guess so. It’s funny, I was so sure I was right. I mean, it’s not every day someone you haven’t spoken to in years likes one of your four-year-old Instagram posts at three in the morning.”

You were about to refute his accusation before you were cut off by a very welcome interruption. “You two enjoying yourselves?” Dongmin approached the two of you, a glass of champagne in hand, and an indecipherable look on his face. He stood right beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, staring directly at Jinwoo.

“Just fine.” Jinwoo replied with the same smirk as before, taking a sip of wine as he eyed Dongmin. “You two look good together.”

“Yeah. We do.”

The vibe of the room had massively shifted since Dongmin had approached you two. His hand had moved down from your waist to your hip, and he was holding you tighter than ever. Your eyes darted between Jinwoo and Dongmin, waiting for one of them to say something, but they both remained quiet, their eye contact unwavering.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. See you at the wedding.” Jinwoo gave you a quick wink before flashing Dongmin a smirk and walking off into the crowd. You looked up at Dongmin who still had that look on his face. You’d never seen that look before.

“Let’s go.” He said, grabbing your hand and walking in the direction of the front door.

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“Whose home?”

“Mine.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Okay…But maybe we should say goodbye to your parents and friends first?”

Dongmin paused in his tracks, you could see him roll his eyes before nodding in agreement. He dragged you around the house to bid quick goodbyes to his family and friends before he walked the two of you to the foyer, helping you with your coat, and dragging you into his car. He’d driven the two of you there himself, and you were honestly worried that in his current mood, the night was going to end up with the two of you crashing into a tree.

You stayed silent for the first few minutes of the trip, your hands folded in your lap. You’d rarely seen Dongmin so irritated- his hands were tightly gripping the steering feel, and you could practically hear his jaw clenching. You felt like a scolded child the way you were so hesitant to say anything to him.

“Are you okay?”

Dongmin sighed heavily. Glancing over at you, his demeanor melting as he saw you staring at him with that concerned look on your face. His grip on the steering wheel relaxed, and he reached over to hold your left hand in his own, his thumb lightly brushing over your ring finger.

“I’m okay. Just tired, I guess.”

The two of you stayed silent for the rest of the drive to Dongmin’s penthouse. The car was filled with a tense air, even as Dongmin gently held your hand, you couldn’t help but feel you’d done something wrong.

The two of you made your way up to Dongmin’s apartment, turning off the alarm and kicking your shoes off as soon as you were in the door. Without a word, Dongmin went straight to his bedroom, leaving you sighing as you made your way to the guest room. Usually your apartment was the designated hangout spot, Dongmin always said it was more “cozy”, but you’d still stayed over at Dongmin’s enough for you to have a drawer of clothes in his guest room and a toothbrush in the bathroom.

You had been laying in bed for at least an hour at that point. You’d tried to sleep, you really had, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could have possibly said to make Dongmin act the way he did. So you resorted to scrolling on your phone to calm your mind, before you heard a light knock on the bedroom door.

You padded over to it, cracking it open to see Dongmin on the other side, nervously shifting his weight between his feet.

“Hey…” He whispered, leaning on the doorway as he looked around the room, doing all he could to not make direct eye contact with you. “I…I guess I wanted to apologize for being a total dickhead tonight.”

“Yeah…You kinda were.”

He smiled at the ground, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Well, I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I don’t really have an excuse.”

His eyes finally met yours.

“Are we cool?”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, poking his arm before responding, “we were always cool.”

He smiled fondly down at you, reaching his arms out, prompting you to lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist, your head comfortably resting on his chest. The two of you stood silently for a minute, his head resting on top of yours. Before pulling away, he gave you a quick peck on top of your head, flashing you a quick smile before taking a step back.

“Goodnight, fiancée.”

“Goodnight, fiance.”

You were friends. Best friends. You always would be. But you were starting to like hearing him call you that.

June 20th

You thought it would be over by now. You thought it would’ve been a few months, a couple family dinners, maybe a fancy corporate party or two, Dongmin’s parents would give him a job in the company, and you could call off your engagement and go back to your normal lives. And yet here you were, six months later. Still engaged- fake engaged. Every time you got together with Dongmin’s family, he’d whisper to you, “I’m sure they’re gonna give the news tonight.” and yet, they never did. And both of your families and all of your friends were still convinced that the two of you were a happy soon-to-be-wed couple. His parents had even spent Easter at your family’s house. It was starting to feel too real.

And now here you were, sitting in a private plane, getting ready to embark on an all expenses paid two week long vacation to Lake Como- where the Lee family apparently owned a large plot of property. Because of course they did. You hadn’t ever realized exactly how wealthy Dongmin’s family was until you’d gotten engaged to him, and you felt more insecure in your own life by the day because of it.

“You want some more champagne?” At the question, you removed one of your earbuds and looked up from the book in your lap to Dongmin, who was sitting across from you, headphones on with his iPad resting on top of the table between the two of you. You shook your head wordlessly, putting the earbud back in place and returning to the book that you honestly couldn’t have relayed the plot of even with a gun to your head.

Planes are so boring.

Dongmin smirked up at you as if he could tell what was on your mind. “Told you you should have brought your laptop.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, flipping to the next page as if you were actually reading. “Why would I want to bring my laptop when I’m going to Italy? I don’t know about you, but I’m intending to actually enjoy myself while we’re there.”

“I don’t think Dongmin could enjoy himself without bringing his iPad.” His younger brother piped up from the seat across the aisle.

“You’re literally playing Roblox right now.” Dongmin rolled his eyes as he removed his headphones.

“You cannot stop me from grinding on Dress To Impress.”

“You’re like, twenty five.”

“Yeah, and I’m absolutely eating these little kids up.”

“That’s a disturbing sentence.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“Back me up here.” Dongmin addressed you, taking his headphones off and tossing them to the side.

You stuck your tongue out at him before tossing your book in the same direction as his headphones- you’d finally given up on trying to read.

“You’re the worst.” Dongmin sighed.

“You like it.”

“I don’t get you two.”

The two of you quickly turned to Dongmin’s brother, who was still staring at his computer screen, undoubtedly still beefing with middle schoolers on Roblox.

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracked slightly as you asked the question. You could see Dongmin grimacing at it from across the table.

“I mean, you two have been together for like, years at this point. But I’ve never even seen you two kiss.”

“Years-? I mean, yeah. But what’s your point?” Dongmin stumbled over his words, crossing both his legs and arms in a painfully conspicuous fashion.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird. Are you two on some like, hardcore, celibate, not even kissing until you get married shit? I find that hard to believe since you’re like, always at each other's apartments- also like, why don’t you two just move in together? I’ve been to both of your guys’ places, and Dongmin’s is like, way nicer. I don’t know, you guys just aren’t like, a normal couple.”

You were in shock at how hard Dongmin’s brother clocked you. You hadn’t thought of any of that. Why the hell wouldn’t you two have kissed? Normal engaged people kiss. The two of you had never even had your mouths anywhere near each other.

“I’m sorry I haven’t ever made out with my fiancée in front of my little brother. That’s not something I’m into.” Dongmin mused as he picked up his headphones from the floor of the plane, placing them back over his head and resuming his show. You let out a silent sigh of relief at his smooth recovery.

This was going to become a problem.

June 25th

You hadn't realized that mega yachts were a real thing until this morning when you and the Lee’s packed into the fancy black car that picked you up at their summer home and brought you to the lake, where you were met with the largest boat you’d ever laid eyes on.

After being “confronted” about your strange relationship by Dongmin’s brother on the plane, that same night, you and Dongmin stayed up late in your shared room discussing ways to make your relationship seem more natural.

“Well, we can’t just like, make out in front of your family.” You mused from your side of the ginormous bed in the room that had been assigned to you and Dongmin.

“Normal people don’t make out with each other in front of their families, I don’t think.” He agreed from his side of the bed, “But maybe, we could just like, I don’t know, maybe give each other a little peck on the cheek once in a while. Or call each other stupid pet names like ‘babe’ or ‘sweet cheeks’.”

“If you call me sweet cheeks, I will kill you.”

“No sweet cheeks, then.” Dongmin tossed his phone across the bed and turned to look at you, propping himself up on his elbow. You turned to him with a raised brow, tossing your phone in the same direction.

“What?”

“This is fun.” He smiled up at you, twirling a loose string on the blanket around his finger.

“Is it really?”

“Yeah.” He whispered before turning his back to you and flicking the “off” switch on the lamp on his bedside table. You settled into your pillows and breathed out a heavy sigh. You were having much less fun with this than Dongmin was.

You were currently laying down in a lounge chair on the bow of the yacht in your swimsuit, pretending to watch Dongmin as he repeatedly jumped off the side of the boat and clambered back up, asking you each time to rate his jump and the following splash. Dongmin’s brother was in the chair beside you, arm over his eyes, probably taking a nap. You were going to have to wake him up soon to tell him to reapply his sunscreen.

“Babe, watch this!” Dongmin called out to you, prompting you to look over to him, your hand shielding the sun from your eyes so you could see your fiance’s grinning face as he took a few steps back, dripping water onto the freshly mopped floor. He ran forward and jumped off the boat once again, you could see him lurch forward right before he leapt in what you were sure was a poorly executed attempt at a front-flip.

You grimaced as you heard the splash- you had a feeling that he’d landed face-first. Your suspicions were confirmed as you heard coughing as Dongmin climbed up the side of the boat. As soon as he made it back onto the bow, he walked over to where you were laying, and sat down on the ground next to your chair, laying his head on top of your bare thigh. You patted his back as he continued coughing weakly- trying your hardest to keep from laughing at your friend.

“That was great. Ten out of ten.”

He looked back up at you, a look of pure disdain on his face. “I hate you so much.”

You giggled and ran your hands through his hair. He rolled his eyes at you as he rested his chin on your thigh, closing his eyes as you continued running your fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. You were worried that you were laying on the “head-over-heels in love” thing too thick, but your worries were immediately quelled as Dongmin’s mother entered the scene.

“You two are just so sweet.” She giggled as she approached you, tightly gripping her full glass of champagne.

“They’re disgusting.” Dongmin’s brother protested from his spot, finally waking up from his nap.

“You’re just jealous.” Dongmin teased, discreetly flipping his brother off as his mother settled into her seat on the younger brother’s opposite side.

“You two have been all up in each other’s business since we landed. Is that Italian air really getting to you guys that much? My room’s right next to yours, I’m just glad you two are quiet when you bang.”

You were so sure he was onto you.

“You poor thing.” Dongmin mused as he wrapped his arms around your leg, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

His brother simply rolled his eyes and laid back down, placing his arm back over his eyes. You turned back to Dongmin, who was already looking up at you with a lazy smile. You hated these moments. The moments that made this whole thing feel like a part of it was real. Because why were you here on a yacht in Italy with his family, with his head on your thigh, and a ring on your finger if no part of it was real?

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Dongmin whispered as he stood up. He leaned over and gently put his hand on the side of your face, giving a short, sweet kiss to your forehead before going inside.

You watched as he walked back inside, trying not to lose your mind as you heard his mother drunkenly giggling from behind you.

God, you hated this.

July 5th

It was the night before the end of your vacation in Italy, and you just couldn’t wait to go home.

Sharing a bed with Dongmin every night of the past two weeks had been nothing short of torture. It wasn’t like he’d been all up in your space, and he didn’t snore- actually, he was very quiet and very respectful of the invisible line that you’d drawn in the middle of the bed, sticking exclusively to his side, and keeping all of his clothes on- despite the fact that you knew he usually slept in just his underwear.

But you often found yourself awake into the early hours of the morning just staring at his back, trying to push the random romantic scenarios about your best friend that your brain was making up into the back of your mind. You told yourself that it was all just because of the atmosphere. I mean, what else are you supposed to think when you’re sharing a bed in a romantic villa in Italy? You were just excited to go back home and sleep in your own bed. Alone.

But here you were, sitting out on the balcony that was attached to your room, glass of red wine in hand as you listened to Dongmin ramble on about something that you couldn’t pay attention to- not while the moon was out in full and it just lit up his features so beautifully.

“You know what I’m talking about?” Dongmin turned to you, his eyes scanning over your face that was undoubtedly just staring up at him blankly.

“Not really.” You hummed taking a big sip of your wine, your eyes met his and you immediately looked away, opting to stare out into the beautiful Italian nature instead of at your beautiful best friend’s face.

“You okay?” Dongmin asked softly, nudging your arm much softer than he usually would.

You took an even bigger sip of wine. “I’ll be okay. Just ready to go home, I guess.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, his eyes still on you. “It’s getting pretty late. You ready to go to bed?”

You were going to miss him saying that.

“Yeah.”

You got ready for bed as slowly as possible, dragging the process out as long as you could. You could feel Dongmin’s eyes on you as you slowly brushed your teeth, and again as you were brushing your hair, and again as you exited the bathroom after getting into your pajamas, and again as you climbed into bed.

The two of you laid there in silence in the dark until, simultaneously, you turned to each other. As soon as your eyes met each other, you could feel your eyes welling up. You didn’t want this to be over.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dongmin whispered, shuffling a little bit closer to you. In the moonlight peeking through the curtains, you could see the worried look in his eyes. You nodded quickly, staying still as he reached out to brush your hair out of your face. His fingers lingered over your jawline, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “You know, I’m really glad that you were able to come on this trip. I think I’d have gone insane without you here.”

“Yeah?” You whispered back, the feeling of his fingers on your jaw causing your mind to struggle to come up with a witty reply.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, moving his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheekbone, brushing away the tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re the best fake fiancée I’ve ever had.”

Right. Fake.

“High praise.” You joked, causing Dongmin to flash you a grin that made your heart ache. You loved his smile.

“I love you, you know? You’re my best friend.”

Friend. Friend. You needed to hammer that word into your mind.

“I love you too, Dongmin.”

He ran his thumb over your cheek one last time before leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, bidding you a goodnight, and turning back around- leaving you laying there, staring blankly at his back

You were so screwed.

December 21st

Eleven months. Eleven. Months.

You’d been engaged to your best friend for almost an entire year.

After your trip to Lake Como, things started to become more complicated. Dongmin’s parents had started asking the two of you to set a date and start looking at venues, menus, dresses, suits, flowers, honeymoon destinations, guest lists- you name it. Your acting in Italy had apparently shown them how “in love” you were with each other, and they were eager for the two of you to finally tie the knot. You had been holding them off by telling them that you wanted to wait until the new year for all of that, but they, especially his mother, were all too ready to get involved in the wedding planning.

You’d started hating being engaged to Dongmin. Every time the two of you were alone together, it just reminded you of your last night in Italy. The way he held your face so gently, and the way he wiped away your tear was constantly on your mind.

But you doubted he even noticed the tense air whenever the two of you met up, as he had been sulking since the end of the summer over the fact that his parents still hadn’t offered him a job yet.

But today was the day of his parents Christmas party, and he was so sure that they would offer it to him tonight. You had your doubts.

The two of you were getting ready in Dongmin’s apartment as you usually did for his parents' parties. You were wearing a beautiful forest green satin dress that you'd gotten as a bridesmaid for an old friend, and the same heels that you’d worn when Dongmin had proposed to you almost a year ago. You were waiting in the foyer for Dongmin to come out of his room, tapping your foot as the seconds ticked by.

“Alright, you ready to go?” He asked in a jovial tone as he entered the room, fixing the cuffs of his suit jacket. He looked up at you in anticipation and stopped in his tracks, his hand freezing on his sleeve as his eyes wandered over your form.

You stood there silently for a good few seconds, waiting for him to say something. But he didn’t. “...Yeah?”

His eyes snapped up to your face and he slightly shook his head, dropping his hands from his sleeve. “Right! Okay, let’s go, then.”

He hurriedly turned off the lights and set the alarm before helping you with your jacket, and offering his elbow to you. You gave him a suspicious glare, but he just grinned at you, guiding you downstairs to where his driver was waiting.

You were drunk. But you felt the need to be even drunker. The two of you had been at the party for around an hour when Dongmin’s father tapped the side of his champagne glass and made an announcement: He was finally letting Dongmin into the company. At first, you turned to Dongmin ecstatically, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek and hugging him tightly. He’d wanted this for so long.

But then you remembered.

It was over now.

You and Dongmin had agreed in the beginning that you would be engaged only until his parents offered him a job at their company. You’d agreed to this. You knew this was coming. So why were you sitting in an empty room crying into your champagne?

You didn’t look up as you heard the door open, you were assuming that it was a drunk couple looking for some privacy until you heard a familiar voice speak up.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting alone crying into your champagne?” None other than Park Jinwoo asked as he sidled into the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his beautifully fitting dark blue suit.

You tearfully chuckled, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You know, I was just asking myself that question.” You looked up at Jinwoo who was leaning on his shoulder against an ornate bookshelf, looking down on you with a placid look on his face.

“Trouble in paradise?” He mused as he dragged his finger down the spine of one of the books.

You scoffed at him, leaning back in your chair as you downed the rest of your champagne in one gulp. “Something like that.”

“That’s a shame…He’s been head over heels for you since high school, so I can’t imagine what could have happened.”

Your eyes snapped up to him, he looked back down at you with a knowing smirk. “What do you mean by that, Jinwoo?”

He shrugged his shoulders casually, as if to brush off your question. “I don’t know. What do you think it means?”

“I’m so not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Fair enough. Should probably be getting back to the party anyway.” He offered a hand to you which you rolled your eyes at before taking, allowing him to help you out of your chair. “You’d better get back to your fiance. It’s not a good idea for a pretty girl to be drunk and alone at a party.”

Jinwoo didn’t let go of your hand until the two of you were out in the hallway. He gave you a one-armed hug, smirking into your ear, “well, speak of the devil.”

You turned to see Dongmin standing at the other end of the hall, staring at the two of you, an undoubtedly shocked expression casted over his face.

“See you later.” Jinwoo turned and gave you a wave over his shoulder, leaving you standing in the hallway, swaying slightly. You shouldn’t have chugged that glass of champagne. But as soon as you started to feel a little too dizzy, Dongmin was by your side, his steady hands holding onto your waist.

You leaned into him with a deep sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. As soon as the side of your face made contact with his chest, you felt your eyes welling up. He gently stroked the back of your head, confused at your demeanor, but wanting to offer whatever comfort he could nonetheless.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, gently rubbing his nose into your hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You choked back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest even harder. “Please don’t call me that.”

His hand went still on the back of your head. “Why?”

You took a shaky breath, bringing your hands to his back, gripping into his suit jacket. “Cause it’s over now. Right?”

Dongmin stayed silent, opting to continue gently stroking your hair instead of responding, letting you cry off your makeup into his expensive suit.

“I think I should take you home.” He said to you softly, gently unwrapping your arms from around his body. You sniffled and feebly attempted to wipe away the tears from your face, not daring to look Dongmin in the eye. You nodded at the ground and allowed him to guide you to the front door and help you put on your coat.

“Stay here for a second. I’m gonna go say goodbye to my parents.” You nodded gently, staring down at your shoes. You’ve never felt so pathetic in your life.

Dongmin returned a minute later, gently taking your hand and leading you to the car. The two of you sat in silence, Dongmin running his thumb over your knuckles, and you, staring out the window, not even bothering to wipe the tears that were running down your face.

You knew it had to come to an end eventually. You always did. But it still hurt.

The car pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse, and you mindlessly let Dongmin lead you up to his apartment. Your brain was practically dead at that point. He could have been taking you to an old abandoned house to murder you and you wouldn’t have noticed, nor would you have particularly cared.

You let him help you take off your jacket and heels and lead you to his room. He motioned for you to sit down on his bed, which you did, flopping onto it, laying flat on your back, folding your hands over your stomach in an attempt to soothe its churning. Dongmin sighed as he watched you lay down, taking off his suit jacket, shoes, and tie, and sitting down next to you.

“Do you want the ring back?” Your voice cracked as you asked the question, your eyes threatening to shed even more tears. Dongmin sighed as he leaned back, laying down next to you.

“No. I bought it for you.”

Your lips trembled at his words, you quickly wiped away the tears that had started to spill. “I don’t want this to be over.” You finally choked out, your hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs.

“I know.” Dongmin replied gently, reaching over to wrap his arm under you, prompting you to roll over and dig your face into his chest. “It’s okay.” He whispered as you cried into him. “You’re just drunk. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you.”

Dongmin held you tighter at those words, his brow furrowing as you said it. “You’re not going to lose me, baby.”

“I just want to stay with you.”

“We’ll always be together.”

“It’s going to be different now.” Your tear ducts had finally run dry. You just felt defeated now. Dongmin still held you just as tight as before, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.”

This time it was Dongmin’s turn to cry. Yet, he smiled. “I love you.”

“God, don’t say that to me.” You sighed into his neck, rubbing your sore eyes as tears continued to run down Dongmin’s face.

“No, but it’s true. I love you so much.”

You pulled away, he was starting to confuse you. You propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. Your confusion grew as you saw him smiling up at you through his tears. “What are you talking about?”

Dongmin leaned up and reached for your face, holding it in the same way he had during that night in Italy, his fingers on your jawline and his thumb stroking your cheek. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”

“...Are you drunk?”

He grinned up at you and brought his other hand to your cheek, looking at you with a kind of fondness you’d never seen on his face before. “Definitely not. I just love you.”

“Dongmin, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a few times.” You replied, sitting up fully, Dongmin following you, still holding your face. “But what do you mean?”

Dongmin gently smiled down at you, one of his hands trailing down from your face to take your left hand, gently sliding the ring off your finger. Your heart dropped as he did so, tears once more threatening to start spilling from your eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you completely froze in place as Dongmin slid off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling in front of you, still holding your left hand in his gentle grip.

“..Huh?”

He chuckled at you fondly, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration, and love spread across his face.

“I want to marry you. For real.” His eyes and smile softened as you stared down at him in shock, “At the start of this, I really did just see this me asking you for a favor. I really thought that at the end of this, we would call off the engagement, and go about our lives as normal. I didn’t expect this to go on this long, and I never expected to realize that I was in love with my best friend, but I did. I think I realized it for the first time in Italy. I loved going to sleep next to you every night and waking up next to you every morning, I loved seeing you with my parents and my brother, I loved sitting on the balcony drinking wine with you, I just loved spending every minute of every day with you. And it made me realize that I love you. As more than a friend. And I think I always have.”

He shifted in his spot on the floor, nervously looking up at your confused stare. He really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by telling you right now.

“It made me realize that I wished this was for real. So, do you want to make it real?”

Just as he was starting to think that he was making a massive mistake by confessing his love to his best friend, you quickly slid off the bed onto the floor, and hugged him tightly, causing him to fall backwards onto the carpet.

“God, I love you so much.” You whispered into his neck, holding him tighter than you’d ever held anyone. He was smiling so hard, he was sure his face could have gotten stuck that way. He hugged you back just as tightly before pulling back and grabbing your face, causing your eyes to meet his.

“So is that a yes?”

“Obviously. Yes!”

Dongmin grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring back onto your finger before his hands quickly went up to the sides of your face and his lips collided with yours. Your hands gripped the back of his shirt as your lips moved against his, fighting back the happy tears that welled in your eyes.

Dongmin pulled back for breath, breathing heavily as he leaned his forehead against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours, “I love you.”

“I know.”

the two of you giggled quietly before your lips met again.

December 22nd

You woke the next morning in Dongmin’s bed, your dress and his suit lay wrinkled on the floor. You groaned into the pillow and turned to your side, almost jumping as you were met with the face of your fiance sleeping soundly next to you.

You smiled softly, brushing his soft hair out of his face, admiring his features in the early morning light.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, reaching up in confusion to grab your hand that was lightly grazing his face. He smiled warmly and leaned into your hand as soon as he realized it was you. “Good morning.” He groaned, his deep morning voice causing your stomach to flutter.

“Good morning.” You replied gently, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He looked up at you softly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before slowly sitting up and tossing back the blankets.

“How about I make us some pancakes?” He called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Sounds good.” You stretched and sat up as Dongmin turned on the shower in the other room.

“You coming?” He called out, you smiled and shimmied out from the blankets, your feet meeting the soft carpet on the floor.

“Just a second!”

You could get used to this.

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flowerfreya · 5 months ago

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Did you want a picture?

Social Media AU based off of this post

Pairing : John Price x reader

John is a divorced dad with two teenagers and reader is a famous influencer think Victoria Paris , Jackie Aina , Monet McMichales type beat

John Price is a famous retired hockey player that played for over twenty years in the NHL. He’s always been a famous athlete despite all his attempts not to. He didn’t do any press and he only did a handful of sponsorships. No matter that, the fans loved him.

John Price was with his highschool sweetheart for a little over seventeen years with two kids now teenagers when they got divorced, the split was amicable understanding that they are just not in love anymore. His ex-wife means a lot to him , he still pays all the bills, she doesn’t work and he had to decide to be the one that moved out the house. His kids come to visit him all the time and with them being teenagers of course they are on tiktok and they think that it is hilarious when they record anything and it gets posted by every sports channel because they have never seen this side of him before.

John knows that he’s famous not just for being an athlete anymore but for being famous on social media as well. A lot more younger fans have come up to him asking for a picture than he’s gotten in years and at first it threw him off , but a year in he’s used to it now.

He’s see’s you walking down the sidewalk with pink headphones on and one of his older jersey’s , you're walking towards him , playing on your phone not really paying attention, and when you get close enough, “You want a picture?”, he ask.

“Huh”, you reply.

He reiterates the question and that’s when you take off your headphones and ask, “Where’s your phone for the picture”.

“Wouldn’t we use your phone”, he replies.

“I’m sorry but I can’t give you my phone number”, you smile back at him but it’s a bit strained, thinking that this weird guy wants your number.

“I think there's some confusion,luv”,

You tilt your head to the side, “Aren’t you a fan?”

“No I’m not a fan, are you ?”

“I don’t know who you are”, you say with a laugh and you start to back away obviously this is not an interaction you want to be a part of.

“Your wearing my jersey”, John points down at your shirt, which makes you look down,

“You’re the Rangers?”, you ask sarcastically.

“No, but I am the man on the back of the jersey”, he says with a smile.

“Oh, anyway, did you want a picture”, you ask him, kind of over this back and forth.

“Sure,luv”, John hands you his phone and you lift it up in a selfie motion and right before you take the picture , you hear him sniff and then moan, which causes you to turn your head and snap the picture.

When John gets home , he’s ambushed by his teenage daughter demanding what he does to you? He’s confused , he doesn’t even remember having had a long day with practice and then meetings after that.

“What are you talking about?”, he ask his daughter calmly. She explains that someone had recorded the whole interaction about worlds colliding and memes being made about mixing the friend groups, and opposites attract.

He mentions that he ran into you but didn’t know who you were. John’s daughter just about screams when she realizes that her dad met just about the most famous influencer , maybe not in the world but you're up there. His daughter gets an idea, her dad needs to met you again, she saw the connection between the two of you, she hasn’t seen her dad like that , well ever.

#influencer!reader #hockey player!price #task force 141 #john price x readee #captain john price #dad!john price

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kaitokitty19 · 10 months ago

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Pandora AU: Home pt.1

Snippet written for my Pandora AU where Kaito became immortal and he travels around with Hakuba. In the following part, Hakuba’s around his 40s.

———

"Don't you ever want to settle down somewhere?"

Right now, Kaito was curled up next to Saguru's body, which always generates heat like a furnace. It's chilling despite the heater. Kaito instinctively moved closer to the heat source.

In response, Hakuba only petted his hair absent-mindedly and gave a distracted hum. He was busy perusing the file marked "URGENT" Interpol had forwarded earlier that evening, interrupting their dinner. The file had been printed out into a thick stack of paper – getting along in his 40s, long screen time had started to tire Saguru's eyes out quicker; they’re always red and watery after staring at his monitor for a long case, hence the printing.

Always bringing murders and terrorists and whatnot horror into their bed, that bastard. But Kaito could hardly find it in him to complain; not when Saguru is this dastardly handsome with all his fine lines and glasses and laser focus. His juvenile cockiness might have dulled somewhat in age, but his eyes remained as sharp as ever. Kaito imagined he could be cut through with a look. God, he wish he could age with him.

"I already am."

"Huh?" Kaito startled, forgetting that it was him who asked.

"I said ‘I already am’," Saguru reiterated, eyes still glued to inked black and white and free hand waving vaguely around as if that alone should make sense, "settled, that is."

Kaito followed the directions of his wild gestures. Yes, their apartment is nice and all: a tasteful cream-colored motif, delicate plaster ceiling rose, high windows and ceilings, spacious, with a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower. The Hakuba Corp spared no expense in making sure its young master was happy, and this was no exception. From the most cutting-edge technology to the most beautiful antique furniture, everything seamlessly pieced together in a coherent harmony of livable space. Everything was at his fingertips. Kaito could spend all day mopping around the place without feeling an ounce of claustrophobia. And he did, occasionally - on which days Kaito felt more like a spoiled cat than an actual person. That Hakuba would come home from whatever businesses he tended to, shrug off his trench coat and shoes before bending over the sofa and spoil him with indulgent kisses certainly didn't help the case.

Even if he were to nitpick, there was nothing to bemoan about. But they had scantly been there 5 months. Kaito was sure there were suitcases at the bottom of their closet that had yet been unpacked. 'Settling down' wouldn't be how he would describe it. Nor would it apply to any of their previous many relocations.

"That's not... I mean, don’t you get tired, of moving around like this? Hardly get to see your friends and family? Never allow yourself to take root somewhere? Isn't it suffocating building your life around me?"

This had Saguru's attention. He lowered the case file and turned those keen eyes onto Kaito. The way Kaito's breath hitched was completely involuntary.

"Does it bother you?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? I don't have a choice." There was no use talking around it. With Pandora, Kaito could hardly stay anywhere longer than a handful of years before his unchanging appearance raised a few eyebrows. "But you do. Wouldn't you rather have a home to come back to instead of hotel rooms and new fancy penthouses every other year?"

They were already getting looks as they were, from the way master Hakuba always had a young twenty-something draping over his arm. There had been hushes and whispers that Kaito knew that Saguru feigned oblivion to, only to quietly have them moved within the week.

He hadn't noticed he had been fidgeting until Saguru took hold of his restless fingers, the warmth of his hand effectively stopped his anxious tingle from spreading from his fingertips.

"Kaito," Hakuba sighed, exasperated but firm, like he had said what he was going to say next a thousand times before and had absolute faith in it. And maybe he had. Kaito just couldn't quite bring himself to believe him, "as long as I am with you, I'm already home."

#pandora #dcmk #hakukai #hakuba saguru #detco #kuroba kaito #magic kaito #kaitou kid #sagukai #白快 #au #detective Conan #fic #pamdora au #writing

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66sharkteeth · 3 months ago

Note

Do you have any ideas for fun AU's or non-cannon stuff the crew gets into? Even just things fun things to imagine that you don't necessarily want/have time to draw.

i talk about college AU pretty often here, actually. that's the main one and most developed.

it doesn't really have a whole plot like CoB ofc, but is just kind of the cast if they were in college. some quick summaries-

-Mikiah and Rex were twins in this universe and Mikiah still died a few months before Rex left for college, much like in canon CoB. It was an accident that Rex blames himself for, and now he's majoring in some biology degree in honor of Mikiah because that's what Mikiah wanted to do. Rex struggles throughout because he's still grieving a lot more than he lets on and isn't doing well in his classes because he's frankly not passionate about the major he's in for Mikiah's sake. By the end, he's processed everything and actually ends up changing majors to study to be a therapist so he can help people who have gone through similar traumatic experiences.

-This is a recent addition, but just for the sake of being able to have Shnee in the picture, Shnee's his emotional support animal (Lauro did all the arrangements bc as if Rex knows how to go about making that official). Ofc, Rex doesn't really disclose this publicly and everyone is just kinda left wondering how this guy gets away with having a rottweiler in his dorm. He probably lies and says his rich aunt paid off the school.

-I've talked about this one before, but to reiterate for those new: Jericho and Claude are room mates (ofc). They both paid extra to have a two bedroom dorm, just for Claude to find out Jericho is using the extra room to house his 4ft pet monitor lizard, "The Scion." It's an absolute menace and Claude hates it. Jericho has some dirt on Claude (im still not sure what) which is how he's getting away with this entire arrangement. However, the pet lizard hogging the other room means Claude and Jericho share a room wink wink.

-They're both in art school, with Claude focusing in art history to be a museum curator and Jericho BSing his way through a modern arts degree. Jericho is a charmer who has BSed his way through most of his life, and feels he can just slide through art school pretending to make pretentious modern art with fake deep meanings. And actually, it works, but Claude is the only one who can see through his BS and know he actually has some talent and passion. Over time, Claude gets Jericho to actually take things seriously and drop his modern art degree and pursue fashion, which he's actually passionate about (Where Jules is one of his teachers). It's the first time Jericho actually has to work in his life, but he's all the better for it.

-On the relationship front, they do eventually end up together but definitely not right away. It starts with them hooking up and Claude thinking that means they're dating, just to come home and realize Jericho never got the memo they were exclusive if ya know what I mean. This leads to a big fight ofc, Claude not talking to Jericho for a while, eventually them becoming JUST friends again, until Jericho realizes he really wasted his chance with Claude and they do eventually actually date. However, this would be Jericho's first real relationship and he's not great at it, so they do a lot of off and on until Jericho finally kinda gets his shit together (possibly after they've all graduated college) and they finally end up together for good in an actually functioning relationship.

I have more but i feel like that's enough of a wall post for now.

#city of blank #college au #rex #shnee #claude #jericho

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sweetbillwriting · 2 months ago

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The Key To His Heart - VI

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019.

Setting: L.A, 2024 but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Cat Stevens' voice filled the atelier that day. He had been singing there for several months now, but Sienna didn't get tired of it. For the moment her son's favorite, and he sat among a mountain of cushions on the floor with his own drawing pad while Sienna painted on a big canvas on the white wall. You could only see the sketch of a horse’s face at that moment, but it would be full of color when it was done. She smiled at her son; she still had a bad conscience for leaving him and thought to herself she would never do it again, especially not for something as fruitless as a TV show. Most of the time it was just about waiting, hoping to be chosen to get invited for a date instead of just walking around the neighborhood on one more walk. The man didn't even seem to be interested in her and had other women he would rather put energy on. She wasn't that desperate; she had been single a long time and knew she didn't need a man to be happy, especially not a man who might not even like her.

She decided quite quickly to go home after her son had said he missed her on the phone. He rarely said such things, so the four words, “I miss you, mommy”, made her heart ache. It wasn't worth it. She packed her bag and contacted the production.

She spoke with a female producer who looked at her disappointedly.

“You understand you can't come back? This is your only chance?” She explained. Sienna nodded. The producer made it sound like a life changing opportunity, but Sienna didn't see it like that at all. Bill was handsome and sweet but too distant to be interesting. He never gave her any real attention.

“Do you meet men like Bill often?” Asked the producer. Sienna didn't understand the question and shrugged her shoulders.

“Living like this? Having this lifestyle? You're a painter, right?”

Sienna looked down at her hands. She knew what the producer tried to imply. Bill had money, she didn't. However, that was never the reason why she had wanted to be a part of the show, but when the producer said it like that, she still felt dirty.

“I know what I want. I want to go home to my son.”

The producer sighed and crossed her arms. She stood in deep thought for a while, while Sienna played with a rhinestone S keyring on her suitcase.

“Okay, but it's best if you leave in silence. We don't want a scene,” said the producer. Sienna furrowed her brows and looked uncomfortably at her.

"But I want to tell Bill myself? I think he deserves that.”

The producer gave her a tired look.

“It's better if he doesn't know.”

Sienna got a bad feeling in her stomach. Why didn't they want him to know? The only reason she could come up with was that they wanted to do it as a part of the show. She would be the runaway bitch, and he would be humiliated.

“How will you tell him?”

The producer smiled condescendingly towards her. Sienna noticed how the woman's way towards her had changed quickly after she had told her she would want to leave; this was not her behavior earlier.

“I can't talk about the production with you, but I want you to remember you're under contract, and leaving like this will maybe affect people's views of you, even in your normal life.”

Was that a threat? Sienna swallowed hard. They would really make her seem like the bitch, but right then and there she felt her conscience weigh heavy for Bill. Leaving was her choice, not his; still, they would humiliate him on international TV.

“Will it affect Bill?”

“I don't think you really care. But if you stay, we will not need to do a thing about this.”

Sienna scoffed and looked out from the window. The woman had threatened her twice now, but she had been through worse things in her life, so she didn't care.

“I just want to go home to my son.” She reiterated, and after that, the producer finally understood she would leave whatever she said.

×××

Of course Sienna felt her body ache from her bad conscience. She couldn't just leave Bill to his destiny. Even if she didn't really know him, she knew he wasn't worth that. She needed to talk to him. If he talked with his producer friend, maybe he could stop the humiliation from happening.

She knew his bedroom was a safe zone from cameras, so she needed to just creep by the cameramen from her bedroom up to his. It wouldn't be easy, but she could try. So she did. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest while creeping up the stairs that it felt like she was doing something criminal. Now he just needed to be there; otherwise, she wouldn't be able to tell him.

She didn't expect him to be so comfortable with letting her in, and she didn't expect how easy it was for her to step into his private place. She felt a warm presence from him when she walked into his room, and it felt familiar and safe. She hadn't felt that from him earlier, but they had never really been alone before. She saw another side of him, but that wouldn't change her mind.

It felt good to let him know what was happening behind his back. It felt good going home, but something also made her sad. She would never know who Bill was for real, behind the polished exterior. She could see a glimpse of it there, when they were alone, and could feel her cheeks warm by thinking back on his sensitive eyes.

×××

It was a phone number she didn't recognize that called her, and with discomfort, she answered and sat down in her son’s pillow mountain.

“Hi, Sienna. This is Herman Larson, one of the producers. We've met a few times.”

Sienna sighed. Would they threaten her again? Were they so desperate?

“How are you?” Herman asked politely, but Sienna didn't have energy for the small talk.

“Fine. What can I help you with?”

Herman laughed uncomfortably in her ear. Sienna didn't get a rude vibe from him like she had gotten from the woman, but he was slow with saying what he wanted, which was also annoying.

“Well, we want to bring someone back to the show, and Bill wants it to be you.”

Sienna felt something crawl around her stomach when Herman said Bill’s name. It was he who wanted her back. But it could also be a lie, a new trick to make her come back, to make the show interesting.

“No, thank you,” she said fast and looked down at her son's sketch, which was mostly just lines and circles.

“Bill wants to talk to you. Just a video chat. He really wants you to come back.”

“Why? He doesn't even know me?”

“To be honest, I don't know. He is just really certain of this.”

Sienna thought about it, feeling the snake in her stomach make it both hurt and tickle.

“I can talk to him, but I will not come back.”

×××

“I know, I know…” she said when she saw Bill's smiling face on the screen. It was obvious he had also felt something that short moment they had in his bedroom. It was like a clue into what they could have, and now they sat there, both of them with butterflies in their stomachs. Sienna covered her red cheeks with her hands while she looked at Bill's big eyes, even more magnetic because of the softly lit room he was in. Both of them sat in beds, but Sienna could see it wasn't his own. This had a beige headboard, while he had a black one.

“Ehm… I want you to come back? I really want to get to know you, Sienna. I don't know how to say it, but I think you can feel it too?”

He said it cryptically because it felt so naked to already say words like those he was thinking. Sienna sighed a little to herself and looked towards her son's bedroom. She didn't have her own bedroom; she slept in the living room, but she liked that so she could keep an eye on her son’s room.

“I can't…” She looked away, and it made Bill become nervous at once. He really thought her blushed cheeks and smile were an indication of what she felt, but clearly not.

“Please, I mean, I get that this shitshow is bullshit and awful. I feel that too. A TV show is not the way to date, but... I just want to get to know you, Sienna. I haven't been able to think straight since the last time we saw each other.”

Sienna looked at him now. He looked desperate and nervous. She felt bad for him, but also for herself. She wanted to get to know him but be a part of that circus again… No.

“I'm sorry, Bill.”

He looked down disappointed at the keyboard, and she could see him dusting away something from it while he nodded a little.

“Fuck… I should really not have judged you for that shoe chaff!” He said it half jokingly. Sienna laughed.

“It hurt like hell! I still have a wound!” She said and even lifted her foot against the camera, trying to show him her heel.

“I don't see,” said Bill amused.

"Yes, you do! It's just there! I will have it for the rest of my life!”

Bill laughed at her while she continued to try to show him the heel of her foot. The screen became too dark when she put her foot so close to the camera, but he wouldn't say that.

“Yeah, yeah, I see! Shit, I'm sorry for not taking it more seriously; I didn't know you were fifteen minutes from an amputation.” He smirked, and Sienna lowered her foot so she could see him. She smiled a bit amused but pretended to be insulted. Bill couldn't stop smiling big, and she started to laugh when she saw his silly expression. Both of them took a deep breath and a little pause before Bill started to talk again.

“I am really sorry I didn't give you the attention you deserved when you were here…”

“It's okay,” she smiled a little and fixed her hair. “I wasn't that easy either. I thought I would be able to open up with you, but with all the girls... I couldn't… And the production wanted to paint me up as a victim, and I refused to do that, and then... I just felt really uncomfortable.”

Bill looked at her seriously, moving his laptop a bit.

“Victim?”

“Yeah… Because I'm a single mom to a boy with autism. I didn't want to exploit him like that, and instead I decided to not mention it at all and... Well, I couldn't talk. I couldn't let you in.”

Bill didn't say anything for a few seconds, and it made Sienna nervous at once. She had met guys before who had dumped her because of her son. She lowered her gaze, preparing herself for Bill's rejection.

“How old is your son?” he asked with a kind smile, and Sienna looked up at him again with big eyes.

“He's five. He is the kindest baby,” she said with a proud smile, and Bill smiled big too. He knew it was a lot of work with autistic children, but instead of thinking about negative things, he was just impressed by her. She was alone in it and still didn't make herself, or her son, into victims.

“You're 28, right? So the both of us became parents when we were 23.”

“Yeah! It's far too young to be honest!” The both of them laughed.

“It is, but we made it work, right?”

“We did.” They smiled at each other knowingly. One more thing that made their connection feel deeper than the ones he had with the other women. Even if one of the other women had children, he could feel that Sienna would understand him better but also be a more natural part of his girls’ lives and being a process in healing the scars they carried.

The conversation continued easily, even if she wouldn't be a part of the show, even if Bill would need to pick another woman in just a few weeks.

They talked about their kids: Bill's daughter, who was a great soccer player, and his younger one, who wanted to help with cooking but in reality just wanted to eat. They were 11 and 5 years old and reminded him about what was most important in life. Her son was also 5 but couldn't talk that much. He liked to draw just like his mom and enjoyed music from the 60s and 70s. Bill laughed at that, impressed, because his own daughters just listened to Taylor Swift at the moment. He wished they also would like Cat Stevens and Paul Simon.

They talked about movies, and just to try her, he wondered if she had seen The Cuckoo Nest and Gone With the Wind.

“Of course! But Gone With the Wind is not my thing. I should be ashamed; it's such a classic, and the cast is amazing, but I think I saw it at too young of an age to feel it was interesting, and then that opinion stayed with me.”

Bill felt the butterflies in his stomach fly into each other. It was so silly, that such a thing would make his cheeks heat, but it was just amazing that a girl shared his interest, for real.

“Did the production for the show know about your movie interest?”

“Yeah, they asked so many questions before taking me in.” Bill nodded slowly. “Why?”

“I was on a date with one of the girls... In a theater. It must have been planned for you… And it would probably have been the best date ever if it was with you.”

Sienna smiled a little but also looked guilty.

“Don't say that…”

“Why not?”

“It's mean towards the other girl.”

“It's not like she hears me? I know it would be the best date ever. This, just talking with you like this, is the best date ever.”

Sienna looked embarrassed, and Bill smirked. He didn't care about the other girls' in that moment, just about Sienna.

They continued to talk until she needed to hang up because her son woke up. Bill felt the disappointment ache like a knife in his chest when she hung up, but he also felt so many glowing feelings flying around in his body. It was obvious she liked him too, and he would call her again, even if it wasn't appropriate.

Bill called Sienna again the next night, and they talked even longer, but even if he knew she would say no, he begged her to come back to Los Angeles, but she didn't want to leave her son. He understood that a child with autism needed safety and predictability. She needed to stay with him to not mess up his world. There was just one solution for this, because Sienna was the woman he wanted to get to know, the woman he had developed real feelings for. The solution was the only right thing for everyone, he thought. But maybe not everyone...

“Drop out? You can't drop out; it's your show!” Said Herman, upset, and looked at Bill, who sat calmly on the edge of his bed. He was dressed in a loose-fitting beige linen shirt and medium blue jeans. He dragged his palms against each other, believing Herman would give in, but Herman wouldn't do that; there was a lot of money in this show.

“I've found the woman I can see myself with. I don't need this anymore. We can do an episode about me realizing that-”

“That's not what people want! People want drama! The network wants a 12-episode show! Not half of it!”

Bill crossed his arms and looked at Herman with furrowed brows.

“But I don't want to.”

“Sucks to be you then because you're under a contract!”

“That's not fair to anyone. You mean I should continue this when I don't want any of the girls left?”

“I thought you liked Esmeralda!”

“She's nice, great even, but she isn't the one who... Sienna… It's just really different.”

“I don't care! This is your job right now!”

Bill scoffed.

“So you will force me?”

“Yes, I will force you, and you will play along! Do whatever you want with Sienna when the cameras are off, but when we're rolling, you're interested in Esmeralda and Brigitte, okay?”

Bill didn't know what to say because it didn't feel right at all, not towards Sienna and not towards the other girls.

×××

The girls stood in a row in front of him, like he would examine them one at a time. Tiffany, Brigitte, Maria, Violet, Esmeralda, Rose, and Odette. They stood by the stairs, waiting for him to say who would be able to stay. Odette already had a key as a gift because she came back. She looked at him with starry eyes, probably believing it was he who wanted her back. For him, it didn't matter because he didn't want any of them there. He wished he could go to New Jersey. It had gone so fast—five calls with Sienna, two dates, one with Odette and one with Tiffany. He was completely sure he wanted Sienna; he had fallen in love.

He looked at the girls and felt just a bad conscience. They thought they had a chance, but they were just there to create entertainment; his heart wasn't there anymore but in Sienna's paint-stained hands.

“Tiffany,” he said and tried to smile warmly. The smile was probably more believable than he thought because she smiled big at him when she walked up to get her key.

“Esmeralda.”

He had a really bad conscience towards her, and it was hard to look at her. Just the day before he had his first call with Sienna, he had laid next to her, kissing her and giggling like he had feelings for her. In that moment he also did, but they felt insignificant when he met Sienna's hazel eyes through the camera. Esmeralda was a girl he could see himself with, but Sienna was the girl he knew he wouldn't be able to live without.

Esmeralda smiled brightly at him, like she felt they had something special. Bill lowered his gaze but looked up with a fake smile. He needed to pretend, and the actor in him knew how.

Maria.

Rose.

Brigitte looked at him hurt but also embarrassed, like she was ashamed she had believed there was something special between them. It was a feeling all of the girls would feel the day they got to know Bill had already decided who he wanted—someone who wasn't even there. Brigitte smiled sadly at him when she walked up to him and followed him out on the porch without a word. It wasn't until they were alone that she walked up to him close and dragged her hands over his khaki colored button up. Bill pulled her hands away and smiled apologetically. She still stood just as close and looked at his smooth skin and plump lips.

“It's Esmeralda, isn't it?”

Bill looked away, ashamed, without saying anything.

“I think we all can see it…”

“I'm sorry, Brigitte.”

“Me too… I guess we will see each other at the reunion... With you and Esmeralda together.”

×××

“It feels awful because I don't want to see any of them; I just want to be with you,” he said sincerely to Sienna on the screen. They had an earlier night call than usual because her mom was at McDonald's with her son. She wore an oversized t-shirt with Ingmar Bergman, just as a silly thing to show Bill. He liked it so much he decided to steal it as soon as he could get his hands on it.

“We haven't talked much at all, Bill. Are you really sure? Not that I don't really, really like you, and believe you like me back but I don't have five guys standing outside of my bedroom door.”

“Thank fucking God for that!”

Sienna smirked because of the irony. Bill looked a bit guilty but smiled back.

“I'm sorry. I wish I could just drop out, but you don't understand how much money I would need to pay them if I did. I don't have that money.”

“It's okay, Bill. I will not demand that of you. But… Must you kiss them and so on?” She looked down a bit embarrassed. Bill was just happy she asked, that she didn't want him to be close to other girls, but then reality hit him.

“It says shit about commitment and understanding the entertainment value in the contract and… I don't know. I guess they could say I didn’t show enough commitment or something…” he said with a sigh. Sienna looked at him with big eyes and nodded a little. She didn't know what to say. Bill had asked her for forgiveness so many times for his messy life, so now it felt empty to say it again. He couldn't change anything. During the few seconds the both of them suffered in silence over the situation, there was a knock on Bill's door. He looked towards his bedroom door, confused, before he stood up awkwardly to open the door. Sienna was thankful Bill walked away because she could feel blood creep up to her cheeks. She didn't know what Bill wore more than the white tank; she had just imagined him wearing sweatpants, but when he stood up, she realized he wore just a pair of gray, tight boxers. When he stood up, she could see thick, hairy thighs but also his bulge, an impressive bulge. She didn't think she would see that much of him that night, but even if her face heated, she wished she could see more.

Bill opened the door slowly but took a relieved breath when it was Herman and not one of the girls.

“Are you already in bed?” Asked Herman. Bill looked towards his laptop that stood open on the bed, and Herman sighed.

“Sienna?”

“Yeah.” Bill moved away from the door so he could walk in. “Sienna, Herman is here, so you know,” said Bill and looked at her on the screen, then sat down again on the bed. Herman looked uncomfortable.

“Hey, Sienna… Sorry for-”

“Not letting Bill and I see each other?” She was irritated but sounded more teasing. Bill turned the laptop towards Herman so he could see Sienna, who was waiting for an answer.

“It's not that easy, Sienna…”

“I guess not, but if you're Bill's friend, you will do this as simply as possible for him.” Bill looked pleased and proud. Herman gave him a fast look. He had something in his eyes he hadn't seen before, and he couldn't stop looking at Sienna. He dragged a hand through his hair. Bill was his friend, and that thing in his eyes was something he wished Bill could show more often.

“I will try… But it's not easy. I can't decide everything.”

“But can you decide that we will take a break this weekend?” asked Bill. Herman wagged his head back and forth.

“So I can go to New Jersey?”

Sienna looked at Bill with a giggly smile.

“Do you want that? Come here?”

“Of course, babe.”

Sienna smiled with a blush, both because he wanted to come to her but also because of the nickname. Babe. She was his babe. Just like that.

Herman looked at them both awkwardly, but he knew he owed Bill to try to make it possible. If he could get his date with Sienna, he would probably be easier to work with and maybe he could make him make the best choices.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #key to his heart

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nanaminokanojo · 1 year ago

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THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 12)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 12 next>>

NOTE: This has narration in prose.

~*~

Gojo Satoru was one persistent man, you gotta give him that. When he said your wish is his command, he delivered, so you don't really have any excuses to further refuse him. He took your opinion on the contract seriously, passed it by you without fail and exceeded expectations. You had the choice to stop whatever madness the two of you were cooking up, so you had that as a buffer to see how things go.

It's a very different situation for the both of you. Neither of you had been in bed with the same person twice. You thought that was convenient, spares you from that awkward phase of having to deal with the messy things that come along with commitment. But regardless of how much you and Satoru reiterate on the point of having no strings attached, it was still a form of commitment. You didn't know yet whether you liked the nature of that bond regardless if it was limited to the physical aspect.

But it was convenient. You could admit at least that. If it's just sex, then you wouldn't have to go through the motions of meeting people, getting to know them enough to say they're not psychos and establishing that mutual agreement of never seeing each other again. Satoru was familiar ground for once, and you more or less knew what to expect from him with the security of a written agreement adding to your supposed security.

Now it was a game of waiting to see who is gonna crack first, but that's a problem for future you. It's arrogant to think that there are no consequences to what you are about to involve yourself in because there will be, and you knew neither of you are stupid as to deny that. Accepting that fact is the first step. You'll deal with the mess later.

Or maybe you two were really stupid to be considering it at all. Either way, you didn't really care about the intricacies of it as much as you were annoyed over the fact that Satoru was taking away what you wanted to be a peaceful afternoon. Tolerance sure wasn't his strongest suit as expected of a rich brat who didn't know how it feels to be denied and done have the slightest understanding of the word no.

"You're gonna make me neighbors think I got into a tangle with loan sharks, Gojo," you said the moment you opened the door for him, unable to help it but ogle him. He was clad in gray sweats, a black shirt that fit him so damn well, his platinum hair mussed under a white, Balenciaga baseball cap.

He looked at you from under his cap, those gloriously blue eyes twinkling as he broke into a grin. "Well, you do owe me kisses, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you cocked your head to the side, inviting him in, prompting his next comment: "I see how you're related to Sukuna when you move like that."

You chuckled. "I know how you think he was raised by brigands." You looked over your shoulder with a smirk. "You can opt out of our arrangement now."

Satoru caught up to you, blocking your way to the living room. He bent down to your height, booping you on the nose with his index finger. "Is that a roundabout way of saying you want out? You haven't even signed yet." He waved the file he was holding in front of you. "Ammended and reviewed as you've requested."

You took it, pushing past him and plopping down on the couch. You patted the space next to you as you opened the file, startled when he jumped right onto the spot, also making you bounce on the plush seat.

You momentarily glared at him but he just scooted closer, pointing at the sheaf of papers. "The things you wanted added are highlighted in yellow."

You quietly read the things he indicated, rifling through pages with your eyes. All the while, you could feel Satoru's blue orbs on you, his fingers toying with the tips of your hair. From your periphery, you could see him breaking into a soft smile, so different from his cocky, mischief-filled cheshire grins. Your planned glance turned into a sidelong stare as you whipped your head to actually look at him.

To your dismay, his expression was replaced by surprise, making that smile disappear as if it hadn't even been there in the first place.

"What?"

You shook your head, thinking you probably just imagined it. "Where do I sign?"

You made quick work of that after Satoru indicated where you were to sign, handing him the pen and also watching him do the same.

"And that's a done deal!" he declared, slapping the pen on the coffee table before twisting on his waist to look at you. "Congratulations, I'm exclusively yours."

"Thanks for saying my line for me." You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness of the situation now that your "giggle fits" about the whole contract, as Satoru had termed it, had died down. "So..."

"May I kiss you now?" he interrupted your thoughts, invading your space as he leaned forward, his eyes shifting slowly from your eyes and your lips.

You didn't fail to notice how he emphasized on asking for your permission this time instead of asking whether he was capable of it. "If you're always gonna choose your words like this..." You knocked his cap off his head with one hand while the other glided up from his shoulder to his nape. You pulled him closer, your lips just millimeters from his. "...instead of being such a tactless bastard all the time, I might actually enjoy this more."

He looked at you with hooded eyes. He wasn't one to be distracted from his goals. "So, may I, sweet cheeks?"

"Yes, you mmph –"

Satoru's plush lips were on yours in a split second, pressing gently yet the fact that he was holding back was evident in the way he gripped onto your waist as if he was trying to tether himself to you. He moved his lips against yours in languid motions as if he was testing the waters. You let him although you wondered at that knowing how hungry and all-consuming his kisses can be from experience.

You didn't dislike it, even the way he would pull away in the smallest fractions to nip at your lips before he would give them tiny kitten licks. It was enticing watching him take his time, making you reciprocate in the same small actions but mostly letting him have at it. Satoru's large hands moved from where he was keeping you steady on your arms up to the sides of your neck, his thumb brushing against your jawline.

Just then, he wrenched his eyes from intently paying attention to your lips to meet yours, blinking slowly and absently licking his lips. Satoru looked at you as if he couldn't believe you were in front of him, again breaking into that genuine smile.

"You're so pretty, sweet cheeks," he mumbled, looking absolutely out of it.

You were tempted to snort at his compliment but at the same time, you couldn't, unable to extricate yourself from the moment. This was a new side to him you're seeing for the first time. "That's one kiss today, Gojo."

At that, the spell seemed to have broken as he placed his forehead on your shoulder, chuckling. "You're keeping count?" He blindly fished for something in his pocket before taking your hand in his and pressing something onto your palm.

Before you could look and ask what it was, his lips were on yours again, less experimental this time. He licked at the seam of your mouth, pushing his tongue into it and seeking yours. You gasped when he finally found it, groaning when you responded in kind. Your ears were ringing, your head filled with nothing but the way he tasted in your mouth and the way he was possessively holding you against his taut form while his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

And just as you were getting used to him and what he was doing to you, he pulled away, your lips parting with a wet sound. You swallowed hard, startled by the sudden loss of contact, and quite frankly, pissed off as well.

He wrapped your fingers on the thing he put in your hand, realizing it was some sort of card. As if he read your mind, he said, "Your key to my private place in the city. I'll text you the address."

With one last peck to your lips which were slightly parted from being flustered, he stood up, putting on his cap. And then he turned to look at you. "Sorry, sweetheart. I have class in half an hour with Yaga." He grinned. "Don't look so disappointed now. I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

You scoffed, also standing up as you regained composure. "Who says I am?" You shook your head, catching sight of the contract on the table. "Take those with you. I don't need Yuki or Iori finding those here."

Satoru laughed, taking your hand and twining his fingers with yours before raising it to his lips and winking at you. "See you tomorrow."

~*~

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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hcdragonwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Apple Blossoms (@journey-to-the-au What if AU fic)

A cute Haarini and Wukong fic that I’ve been dying to push out. God I love this pairing so much. Please ENJOY!

“How long do you think it will take?” Bajie, third disciple, was leaned against the monastery wall a frown furrowing his snout. The pig had just wanted Wukong settle their Master into an alcove in the room, set away from any windows or doorways. Of course Trip had asked Wukong to go begging for fruits- even though the monastery had given them a hearty course of noodles and steamed buns from the kitchens. Wukong had obliged his master, bowing low before seeking out her and asking her if she wanted anything.

“What do you mean?” Wujing was tending to some clothing, working a needle through the ripped and broken stitching along the edge of the fabric. The river demon didn’t seem to have a care in the world as the Stone Monkey leapt from the window and out into the afternoon light beyond.

“Come on Wujing!” Bajie stated exasperated. “ You can’t be blind to what’s going on…” he motioned with his hands to the open window where their brother had gone out and the silver form of Haarini who brought over the scrolls Tripitaka had requested from the monastery archives.

Wujing looked up from his stitching when Bajie have him a kick in his leg and blinked. It took him a moment between looking out the latticed window and to the silver simian beside their master to piece together what was bothering Bajie so much.

“Oh you mean between Wukong and Miss Haarini?” Wujing asked. He didn’t quite see the point his brother was trying to make.

“Yes. The ape is practically head over heels for her and he doesn’t have a clue!” Bajie fumed. He watched Haarini help lay out stones to hold the old and crumbling scroll open, setting a small red candle nearby so Tripitaka could read the fading letters with little strain. Bajie liked to think he was an expert on love and courtship. He had experience - albeit mostly rejections but he would never admit they were failures, just wrong girl wrong time scenarios- and had an eye to see that when Wukong looked at Haarini he had all the tenderness in the world.

“I think the young Miss is also in love with him.” Wujing commented softly. He was almost done fixing the hole in his spare trousers. Bajie whirled off the wall and gripped the river demons shoulders and gave such a violent shake as to send the needle flying out of his hand.

“So you see it too?!” Bajie ground his teeth. If he was a fire demon, steam would have been coming from between his teeth. “Why doesn’t Wukong come out with it and just say it?! It’s infuriating.”

“Infuriating that he’s clueless ?” Wujing bent down to feel for his needle, staying calm even though some of the stitching from his hard work had come undone. “Or is infuriating because Bajie is jealous that our brother has someone interested in him?”

The sly taunt pricked the pig just as Wujing found his needle again- only to loose it as his brother grabbed his shoulders and shook again.

“Wujing! I had a wife remember.” Bajie huffed. “ If anyone knows romance it would be me!”

“Keeping your wife locked up while your in-laws called you a monster?” Wujing pushed his brother off him and caught his needle up again.

“I plowed their fields! I harvested their crops! They should be thankful for such a good Son-in-law!” Crowed the ex marshal. Haarini peaked around at them from her place beside Tripitaka. They were making such a noise about marriage and the pat exploits of Bajie she couldn’t help but listen in.

“Tell that to your ex wife.” Haarini heard that and immediately turned back to the scriptures Tripitaka was gently explaining. Whatever the two brothers were talking about- she wanted nothing to do with.

“Why doesn’t he just say it?!” Bajie reiterated, setting himself back down and against the wall.

“Say what?” Wujing was already engrossed in his work again, having forgotten what point his brother was trying to get to.

“That he loves her Brother! That he is doting on her like a moon eyed dawn after its mother!” It was adorable to see the very cheeky and very sly monkey stumble over his own feet in the presence of a girl. It would give Bajie satisfaction- if it didn’t confound him that this monkey had gained the amour and fluttering lashes of a lady!! “He practically tangled tails with her at every moment!”

“Maybe Wukong doesn’t really understand why he loves her… or what he may be feeling.” Wujing observed.

“What do you mean Wujing? Are you hinting that … Wukong may Never have … felt love before?” The thought seemed so sudden, so alien to Bajies mind that he recoiled from it. Bajie had loved almost since the moment he could conceptualized the thought. There were a lot of pretty women in the courts of Heaven and across the cosmos. I mean… they were women! Pretty dainty things with lips and curves and they all smelled wonderful! To think Wukong had never felt love.. never trysted with another …

“He’s felt love.” Wujing amended. With a pull and tug, the thread came free of its binding in a nice stitch. The hole was mended. “I just don’t think he’s ever had a crush.”

Wukong traipsed through the grove of apple trees, smiling softly to himself. His basket was full of fruit from seven different mountaintops now. He had oranges, cherries, plums, peaches, strawberries, mangos and apples. An assortment of fruits he had to beg and somersault across ranges and deserts for, to hop and skip rivers and oceans just to get across.

Wukong wouldn’t range so far for several reasons. One was his master had a terrible stroke of misfortune that always plagued him to no end whenever the monkey was gone. One would think after so many kidnappings and snatchings, trickings and plyings with sly words, that his other brothers would become more observant right ? Wrong! Wujing could be depended upon, bless him. But Bajie? Sometimes Wukong wanted to peel those pig ears off his head and wipe that grin from his snout in frustration.

When it came down to seeing glamour Wukong was the best. No demon could hide from his discerning eye. His Master knew this- and still would be swayed my Bajies words to disbelieve the Sage.

Bajie had talked his Master into saving demonic women who could pluck the very souls from bodies. The pig had made arguments against Wukongs cautions when it came to a platter of fruits that smelled too sweet or tea that looked just a bit to colorful. And the third disciple ? He had a terrible and scary habit of falling asleep at any and all hours. Ba Longma, their second brother and disciple, had had to wake the pig on more occasions then not.

So the rest of Wukongs reasons? They solely fell on Bajies shoulders. The blame for Wukongs paranoia was at the pigs feet. However that had changed when she came to join them.

Haarini.

She was a flash of silver white fur that had taken him by surprise, knife held to his throat and her teeth flashing. “Who are you?” Had been hissed from a face full of violence and fear.

I am someone completely confused and surprised. Had been Wukongs first thoughts.

Wukong had knives, polestars, maces, bats, clubs, swords, halbergs, quarterstaves, fans, morningstars, greatswords, axes, arrows, tekko, butterfly swords, falchions, rapiers, katana, Dadao and all things sharp or meant for killing pointed at him along the journey. The people wielding them had been mortal and demon alike.

However none of them had been monkey. It was like … looking into the past. She resembled nothing of his people, nothing of his mountain. She wasnt him, had never been him.

Yet the fear… the tremble… Haarini had been in a state when she came to the group. It had taken communicating and gentle coaxing by all to get her to ease. And when she did ? She promptly fell to sleep like a stone being dropped in water. Wukong felt a smidge of something within him beginning to grow white hot. An ember of a feeling he had not been aware of missing.

He had been king of Flower Fruit Mountain longe before he had been imprisoned beneath the Five Phases mountain. Though he hadn’t acted kingly in quite a long time, Wukong felt himself beginning to slip back into that mantel.

Was he bossing anyone around and giving orders and such? No. Being a king was a bit more then that. Besides Bajie would probably disregard him as he always did if given an order. No this was the other side of Wukong that had been seen in glimpses and flashes, like a white Hart in the woods.

This was the part he had always at his core had been: loving. Caring. Compassionate. Wukong wanted the best for his people. He had been driven across the sea to find in in Sabhuti and learn of the art of eternal life. The monkey had cultivated himself for years- all in the name of seeing his people live long and happy lives. To forever live.

Wukong had seen what death did. It took the joy from the living, took a person they loved - wether it be mate or child, mother or sibling- and left nothing but the frozen form from whence their soul inhabited. A husk of the bright flicker that had been before. Wukong had seen his fair share of tears from his people when the first of their troop had died, heart giving out in the middle of festivities and livelihood.

He had tasted the tears of his people as they had buried the elder, the first death Wukong had seen so naturally snatched in the prime spark of life, thrown petals onto the body. Wukong had experienced his first burial. He had seen the mourning.

That sorrow had been a thorn in his foot, a bite from a bug he could not ignore. He worried at it, picked at it. Would he suffer the same fate? But if he did- who would be left to protect the little children,the elder mothers, the stubborn adolescents, from the things that prowled and saw them as nothing more then Monkeys?

They were more then Monkeys. Each of his people had a name. The elder, Sunrise, had been the first name etched into the stone monkeys heart. Wukong refused to forget his smile, the way he called the loudest in the halls during feasts, or how he liked to tell the little ones ghost stories and make the mothers box him about the ears.

Wukong had made a determination, a declaration to himself. That would be the last needless death.

He had not been able to fulfil it completely.

Wukongs own need to secure safety had lead to his rise in power, which had lead to Heavens notice of him. This had lead to the first incidence of scorn and contempt by immortals Wukong had ever experienced. From Humanity? He had learned in his time with Sabhuti that bot all the disciples there looked at him with fondness.

They were mortal men, unaccustomed to the long days of merriment and joviality that Sun Wukong had created in his mountain. Their time was fleeting in Wukongs mind- like grains of sand racing to the bottom of the glass. Wukong wanted to stop his own pell mell fall into that same trap- and had succeeded.

From immortals however ? Beings he had given respect to - as much as he could while also giving them a bit of cheek and teasing for that was his way, to tease and to teach- and had been full of wisdom to him?

They had treated him nothing like his people. Nothing like Sabhuti. Contempt and belittlement had been slung at him.

So of course he had reacted.

That had been more then Five hundred years go. Ages since he had last seen his people, the children, the elders of his mountain.

Flashes of his old self, of the caring free loving monkey king from before had been slow to come forward. Yes he was still a cheeky and conniving trickster. But the playful care ? The kind he would use to tease the children of the mountain into trying new things, or to encourage his generals into learning new maneuvers ? That came in rare flashes in the most secluded moments with Tripitaka, when his master was not breathing down his neck about the importance of every life.

The importance of every life is moot if your being picked out of some upstart demons teeth.

However… Haarini had woken something Wukong was not expecting to awake until he was home and back on his mountain. Care.

Wukong set the basket down in the dew speckled grass, humming as he leapt into the tree above. The cloud cover here was beautiful - frosted in the dying light of the sun and cold crisp scent of winter winds. Wukong was in a place that had longer winters and shorter summers, where the breath of winter was always a step from the door. But for right now the summer was warm enough to fight the chill winds.

Up among the twisting branches, blossoms and apples hung. The smell was soft and fragrant and numerous. The blossoms were small, delicate little things. Bees late to their hives still flitted over them. Wukong picked the best branches and gave them a fast snap. They came away like toothpicks, the blossoms hardly disturbed.

Wukong hoped down setting the branches in the top of the basket. His smile was soft. Warmth settled in his body as he placed the little cloth back over his findings. Then with a breath he spun away, up and over clouds in a somersault that sent him into the air and beyond.

Wukong was soon back at the monastery. The rooftile beneath his feet was still warm from the sun. Night had fallen fully, the blanket of stars in full display. Cicada’s and cricket song flooded the night. The monastery’s paper lanterns gave off a amber honey glow, the fluttering of moths casting large then life shadows across their surfaces.

Below the tiled roof came the comforting murmurs of conversation. Candlelight spilled from the latticed window below. Wukong could hear Bajie and Wujing arguing and the gentle tones of Haarini and Tripitaka in polite conversation. He pulled a bit of fur from his coat and blew, creating a woven basket. Wukong separated the fruits for his master and the little treats he had gathered for Haarini. There was a bit of honeycomb he had snatched, the apple blossom branches, the best Mangos and a few rich and juicy strawberries.

Once that was settled, Wuong felt his fur itch. The urge overcame him and he set to grooming- settling his orange and reddish fur back into place. Ears immaculate, clothes without a speck of dust, tail looking less poofy then before. Once his body stopped itching so terribly, Wukong rapped his knuckles against the latticework and gave a happy hoot. There was a silence then Haarini returned the greeting, musical voice answering his in greeting.

The frame was opened and Haarini stuck her head out, yellow eyes flashing in friendship.

“What are you doing out here? You can just come in.”

“I want to give you something.” Wukong waited eagerly at the edge of roof. He was leaning down looking at her, hands holding the tiles. Everything was cast in a sort of upside down view, the room beyond the window a mess of jumbled shapes. Except Haarini. The simians silvered fur was like a second moon in the light as she quirked a brow at him.

“And that cant be done inside?”

“Not with Bajie.” He peered a bit further and into the room. The third disciple was carrying on about his ex wife and how he was a great husband. Rubbish. He may have done the work of seven people and then some but he had kidnapped his wife first off. That was something no father in law would enjoy. Or mortal women.

“The pig will only ruin it!” Wukong decided to use his secret weapon- he pressed his face close to hers, blinking to make his eyes grow large. “Please Haarini it will be a good surprise.”

Haarini blinked then laughed, snorting in a way that set Wukongs spine to rippling in the most beautiful way. He loved seeing her delight. The Sage would become the greatest jester in all the heavens if he got to hear her soft laughter.

Wukong passed the basket through the window, the one containing the majority of the fruit “Here take the fruits to Shifu and then come back to the window.”

Haarini took the basket and disappeared from sight. With her gone the itching began again in Wukongs fur. He had to resist turning to it and grooming by biting a fang into his lip. It felt like ages bur it was merely moments before she reappeared. The silver monkey was back at the window looking up. Wukong offered her a hand and pulled her up.

He didn’t let go and neither did she. Haarini leaned in looking at the identical basket covered in cloth and back to his golden eyes. Wukong took that moment to try and regain some of his thoughts back. Her smell was in his nose, her hands were soft in his. The way the dim starlight caught in her fur and danced across it like an Arctic crest of permafrost… she was so beautiful.

He could get lost in those eyes… warm like nectar and soft in the light…

“You are eager to show me what you have.” She spun and now was holding both of his hands. She looked up at him, a smirk on her face. “It better not be a trick.”

“No trick. Just close your eyes.”

“Wukong if you put a frog on my head..”

“It was one time! One!”

“One too many!” Her laughter echoed again. Wukong felt his ears melt in the sound of it. He was egged on now, entranced and encouraged by her mirth. A bit of the old King slide out from that place beneath the mountain of memory. He laughed back, allowing that play to prance upon his soul.

“But the frog had the same color eyes as you- it was a comparison” He teased and clucked. The words had their desired effect.

“You cheeky furbag!” Haarini called, smacking his shoulder in mock battle. Wukong felt none of the slaps but felt the little free spark in his heart flair to a flame.

“I am no cheek!” Wukong said with all the mischief.

“You are full of yourself and you know it.” Haarini teased. “Is this why you didn’t want to go down with Bajie?”

“Bajie likes my good humour! He would laugh at my jokes all the time before you came along.” Wukong puffed. He crossed his legs and gently coaxed Haarini down beside him.

“Possibly because you threatened him with a smack between the eyes.” She gestured to his ear where he hid his staff and mimed pummelling someone on the head.

“All in jest. I promise!” He pressed a hand to his heart as she glared at him. He felt a prickle of worry, just a smidge, as he motioned again.

“No frogs just close your eyes. Please?” Baby eyes engaged once more, trying to coax her not to be suspicious.

Haarini reached up and tugged on his ear in play.

“Alright. But if what you give me moves, I will shove it down into your gullet.”

“I dont doubt that.”

He waited until she had closed her eyes. He tested it by waving first his hand then his tail in front of her nose. Her face remained impassive, calm. The Sage had to shake himself bodily to get moving. She just was so pretty in the starlight — it should be criminal to shine without stars.

Wukong turned back to the basket and set to work. He quickly took the branches and easily wove them together. He only lost a few petals from the precious flowers. The scent smelled wonderful, crisp and clear. Wukong felt his tail twitching in excited flutters. He almsot giggled and ruined the surprise. Then Wukong turned and, with delicate care, set the crown of branches and blossoms onto her brow.

“Wukong wha—“ she was a bit startled, opening an eye as the cheeky King sprinkled the last of the apple blossom petals onto her.

“Behold! The flower Queen!” Wukong gave a regal bow, hands swooping back and out as his forehead practically kissed the tiled roof. “All hail the queen of spring!”

“You made me a crown out of blossoms?” Haarini gently ran a hand up and over the little branches that Wukong had woven together. The pale pinkish white petals gave off the softest smell and made her fur look lustrous.

“I couldn’t get you a bouquet.” Wukong chuffed smugly - and with a little bit of mirth. “Those are in the cities and the last time i got you one you nearly bit my fingers.”

“Wukong,” Haarini reproached, “You didn’t get me them-you stole them.”

“I acquisitioned them!”

“You stole them!”

Wukong smirked down on her. And unfurled his hand.

He dropped more petals onto her upturned face. The petals brushed over her nose and lips and Haarini breathed in the pollen.

This elicited the cutest sneeze The Great Sage Equal To Heaven had ever heard. Wukongs eyes blew out as she rubbed at her nose. “Oh my…”

Of course poor Haarini was unaware of the fawning King. She simply rubbed at her snout, trying to gain some composure. The petals had spread their pollen right into her face and nose, setting her to a few more sneezing fits.

A few more adorable honks that had Wukong all but fallen into himself in the urge not to suddenly grab her. It was just so … cute!

Haarini grumbled about the unfair advantages he had, specifically the one where she had no petals to throw at his smirking face when she had been right in the argument all along.

“Wukong my nose is streaming do you have a—“ her eyes had cleared enough to notice how close Wukong had gotten. He was less then a handspan away. He was laying on his belly, feet kicked up over his back, tail curled in a crescent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cute.” Wukongs head rested on his two hands as he peered up at her.

“What?” Haarini felt her ears beginning to burn, her fur itching all over as this monkey looked at her like she was the moon and stars and heaven come all to earth. Her heart gave a leap and her emotions were off and running. She had never had anyone admire her like that- had never had someone jest and play and look with such golden eyes into her face …

“Super cuuuute!” Wukong called again, reaching out to tap her now blushing face with the pad of a thumb. Haarini felt steam leave her ears and her fur curl. That heartbeat earlier ? It was racing- galloping- full sprinting like an Arabian horse over the desert dunes.

Seeing him looking at me like that …. I want to —

“Stop it, it was a sneeze!” She slapped at his face, feeling the thoughts of her heart beginning to overwhelm her. Haarini had had bachelors court her. She had had bachelorettes try and weave flowers into her fur. None had ever tempted her eye or caught her heart. There had been handsome ones, kind ones, ambitious ones. As the next matriarch of her troop, Haarini had felt a pressure to perform- to love and to tryst as her mother wanted and secure a successor to the bloodline.

Love had not come into the equation of it.

She had never expected to find it here, leagues away from everything she knew and loved, in the form of a monkey whos eyes glowed like the desert sun, whos laugh made her bones shake in pleasure and whos hands held the gentleset touches. A warrior such as he touched with the softness of day blending to twilight. Subtle and gentle.

Like he was now against her face, holding her in his palm and she, leaning in like she belonged there.

“The most adorable sneeze ever!” Wukong chortled as Haarini regained her independence from her lovesick heart and growled. She gathered some of the fallen petals up.

“Lets see how you like petals in your face!” Haarini pressed them into Wukongs face just as the simian had opened his mouth. The poor King was set on a fit of coughing and sneezing that had Haarini in stitches- but also rubbing his back and apologizing. Wukong returned the favour however as he grabbed her and tugged her back down and into him.

Haarini valiantly struggled under the wrestling. It was like fighting to pin and flip a mountain. She could try all she wanted but each time she got some headway over the King he would simply topped her back onto him. Then under him.

They both lay on the tile for a moment, Haarini catching her breath as she laughed and Wukong hardly breathing as he stared down at her. She was flushed a darker shade- from exertion or laughter he could not tell- and it added a undertone that had him staring into her.

Each time I look at her its like seeing her for the first time. My mind just cant give her an accurate shape.

Maybe one day I can ask an artist to paint her portrait. I never want to forget her smile.

Wukong flopped onto his side beside Haarini, fingering a bit of her crown.

“You are so cute covered in flowers.”

“Shut up-“ her breathes came out a bit faster but with no serious reprimand in them. Wukong felt a bit of a thrill. He had won. “I hope you have more then flowers for me.”

“Of course.”

Under the starlight, in the casting of apple blossoms and the smell of ripe mango and strawberries, the two sat. Enjoying each others company long into the night- past when the cicadas stopped their singing, past when the sky began to grow warm like milk tea in the turning of the day. Haarini talked and teased to Wukong and Wukong listened and teased back. They didn’t realize they were leaning into and upon each other, tails curled and wrapped like vines. When eventually Haarini fell asleep, it was Wukong who curled about her. He grew in size just enough to shelter her from whatever wind came upon them. He slept light, the seeping warmth from the roof tiles lending a heat to wherever they pressed into. Bellies full of fruit and hearts full of one another, the bight passed in peaceful companionship.

A companionship blossoming into the petals of love.

#hcwrites #hcfanfics #writing stuff #a journey to the au fanfi #for journey to the au #HERE SHE IS #A BEHEMOTH #4k words i beleive #it is always the dialouge that makes it longer hehehe but i love this slice of love #YES I KNOW APPLE BLOSSOMS COME IN MANY SIZES.#but also some smell nice and i imagine Haarini in soft little white pedals #jttw au #sun wukong #what if au #haarini #jttw sun wukong #zhu bajie #tripataka #i like to think of Ba Longma as the second apprentice personally #I MEAN HE WAS HERE BEFORE PIGSY SO THAT TECHNIQULLY MEANS HES THE SECOND APPRENTICE #jttw fanfic #I HOPE I CAPTURED THE BABIES WELL #WEEEE #SOME FLUFF TO CHASE DOWN THAT BEAUTIFUL SORROW FLUFF GAVE US YESTERDAY MY GOD #THAT SHIT IS STILL LIVING IN MY HEAD RENT FREE #jttw tag #jttw fanfiction #I LOVE WRITING FLUFF OK #FLUFF MAKES ME SAPPY #I kept seeing that scene from walle when they hold hands with the music going in the background

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quills-of-freedom · 2 years ago

Text

Dream series ~

Porco Galliard

Okay so, I've upset myself writing this new chapter of Crossroads. How Isayama and other writers do it I will never know.

Anyway, it's prompted me to start the "Dream Series" where you're with your love in a modern AU and what happens to them in canon is just a horrible, horrible dream.

Requests for series are open

Female bodied Reader X Porco Galliard

Warnings: Fluff. Soft sex. Cockwarming. Praising (both ways)

Tag list 🐙

@greeniegreengreen

@dreamerdeity

@XOYOURONLYAMORRXO

@koo-detat

@5feetofwrath

@lilshades

Your eyes fly open to be greeted by a void of blackness, the dark room creating familiar yet fuzzy shapes as your eyes focus on the amicable furniture of your bedroom. The room you share with your love -

You bolt to a sitting up position as you gather your bearings, the dream you had feeling like it had gone on forever.

"...Babe?" Porco asked, opening one eye to look at you. The open orb is squinting through the dark, his vocals drawled and half-asleep.

You flick on the bedside light, heart still hammering and the wicked heat of panic surging under your skin.

Porco immediately flinches and puts his head into his pillow to shield him from the light. "Ah, a warning next time?"

If you were in your right mind, you'd apologise. But instead, all you can do is choke on a sob, burying your face into your hands, the light chasing any and all demons from the shadow realm of nightmares back where they belong.

Porco's ear pricks when he hears your broken sob, sitting up with his bed hair sticking here, there and everywhere - eyes still squinting as his large hand softly palms your back.

"Woah, woah... hey, what's wrong?"

Turning, you throw your arms over his bare shoulders, the solid muscles beneath his skin tensing as he embraces you, holding the back of your head as if he were cradling you.

"I had the worst dream. And it felt so real. Eren was this... monster. So were you, a-and Reiner. And you were all fighting. You got hurt. Real bad. Your head was half missing and you were eaten by a - "

"Hey..." He laughs softly. "It was just a dream. It's over now. I'm here with you now, right?"

You nod, withdrawing from the embrace, his head lowering to catch your gaze.

"It wasn't real." he reiterates, fingers now running through your hair.

Using his large thumb, he pushes your tears off your cheeks, his auto "man must protect" instinct clicking on like a light switch at how precious you were, crying and trembling the way you were.

"Come on, let's get you feeling better. You want a drink?"

You shake your head as you inhale deeply, pulling yourself together.

"Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Hmmm....Soda?"

"No."

"I know, how about a nice cold vodka?"

A smile spreads across your beautiful face. "Ew, no Porco."

His heart warms at seeing you smile, giving your arm a little squeeze.

"Alright. Let's get you back to dreamland, missy."

He felt you tense, knowing you weren't quite ready to risk going back into the unknown sovereign state of your unconscious.

"Alright..." He whispers, his nose now nuzzling at your neck. "Let me make you feel better in other ways..."

You melt instantly as his lips caress your neck, his palm sliding down your arm. "Let me show you I'm really here..." He breathes, the feeling of your soft skin instantly stirring him awake.

He catches your mouth into a deep kiss, his eyes closing while that cute pink hue brightens across the bridge of his nose; no matter how long you'd been together, he always felt so privileged and lucky to be able to have your gorgeous form to himself. He'll never take you for granted.

He gently pushes down your form, grabbing the light switch on his way down, and clicking you both back into the darkness. "I'm here, baby..." He breathes heavily, vocals quivering as he meekly climbs on top of you, his sturdy arms keeping himself hovering above you.

You nod from within the black cloud, both pairs of eyes once again adjusting to the new spectrum of vision.

He paws at the thin strap of your tank top, pulling it down your arm and freeing a breast, his warm textured tongue running up your nipple before giving it a nibble with his teeth.

A gasp escapes you at the sensation, running your fingers through his bed hair; lavishing the fact that you're the only person he allows to touch his hair.

As his strong neck works his head across your breast, his hand then grips your bare thigh firmly, tugging down your tiny bed shorts and pulling them down your beautiful pins.

"Let me make you feel safe..." He whispers as he comes back up to your neck, licking it slowly - tasting your natural skin and pheromones. "I'll keep you safe..."

"Oh Porco..." You sigh, wrapping your legs around his waist and feeling his solid manhood standing to attention under his pj bottoms.

"mmm" He hums in between deep kisses of random parts of your neck and chest. "I love it when you get needy for me, gorgeous."

Your own sex is now heated up, pulsing and throbbing on its own accord as this beautiful man who absolutely adores you makes a meal out of your skin.

"You're so perfect, Porco." You whine as he now pulls your top off you entirely.

His heart skips a beat at your words, his form taking shape now your eyes have had time to become familiar with the dark, you see his pink hue deepen to red.

"I love you..." He groans, now kissing your low stomach with such passion, you almost felt that titan steam from your dream emit from his form.

Your nails sink into the sheets as he slowly and deeply starts making out with your slit, his brows sewing together as he pleasures his queen.

Your legs tense and shudder as he groans into you, his tongue now rolling over your sensitive spot.

"Porco, ah ~ you make me feel so ~ good..."

His whimper at your words tugs at your heartstrings. You need to let him know how much he means to you, how amazing he is.

"I need you..." You breathe.

Tearing himself away he sits up, drying his mouth with the back of his wrist before hovering over you once more.

"You've got me. Always."

He pushes himself at your sex, hunching over you and gasping as he slowly slides inside, clinging to you as if you were about to be blown away to another world. Your lips part and nails cling to his arms as his girth stretches you deliciously, his pathetic whimper once he reached the hilt like music to your ears.

He stays still, you can feel his angry cock pulsing within you as it begs its master for some friction. As bad as he is at it, Porco adores cockwarming you - but his self-control is null and void and he never manages to last long. Distracting himself, he paws your hair kissing you as if you were his last meal on this earth.

You bring your legs up in a bend, resulting in him sliding in deeper.

"H'nrgh..." He grunts into your mouth, a deep breath blowing you away.

"You're my every... ah ~ tsss... my everything..." He hisses as your constrictions spasm and flex tightly around his length.

"I love you, Porco..." You whine, trying your best not to buck your hips into his. "I'm all yours..."

Your tongues dance within one another's mouth for a small while, entwining and tasting the other, wrestling gently with adoration that pours from both of your entire beings. Immersing himself into your soul, he grits his teeth and places his head against yours, his hot breath panting and blanketing your face. He whines, he whimpers, he's at your total mercy; all from just reactively tightening yourself which was half an automatic response anyway.

"Never leave me." You whisper. "Don't let this be a dream."

"If I am... I'm waiting for you, somewhere." He replies with honesty. "If i'm a dream. If i'm a character from someone else's world... I'm here, waiting for you to meet me."

A single tear threatens your eye but you blink it away wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck, closing your eyes as you cling onto his body. "I love you."

"I love you too, princess. Just.. wait for me, okay?"

You nod as he begins to slowly withdraw himself. Your breath is taken away as he firmly thrusts back inside of you. Once. twice. Then giving up all reservations and thrusting his cock into you at a nice rhythm and pace, your hips rocking with his movements.

One arm hooks around you, keeping your body pressed against his, the other on the headboard as he rocks himself in and out of your tight squeezes, his whimpering gathering volume as well as the ferocity of his movements.

You cry out his name as he chants yours in a groan, your breasts bouncing with each powerful hit, the hit that's taking you closer to your high.

"Ah ~ babe... you feel so good... fuck... I'm close... uhuh..." His voice breaks as you come undone, shattering and breaking but at the same time becoming whole as you share your orgasm with your lover, your reflexive insides pulling him in deeper as his thick hot nut bursts with force within you, colliding with your cervix.

You lie asleep, Porco watching your soft, satisfied smile as you're cradled in his arms. His small smile of pride is evident as he gazes at your form. Juvenile pride that he just fucked you happy, but also a deep routed sense of feeling proud, that you were his. That he had made you happy. His head then turns to gaze out of the window at the moon that is slightly in the view from a sliver in the drapes. His smile fades to a thoughtful frown.

What if this was some dream?

What if he were the dream, and when she slept here - that dream world is her real world and vice versa?

His brain started to hurt so with a shake of his head, he returned his gaze to his love.

Whatever the case, wherever you might really be... he is waiting.

End.

a/n: I found an audio thing that is the closest thing I could find to what Porco's moans and whimpers sound like when he is feral. WARNING: It takes you to a porn website (a safe one, promise) so keep that in mind, don't want to give you any nasty surprises.

Here it is here. This is so close to Porco when he's going absolutely nuts for you. Ignore the dialogue at the start though.

You're welcome.

#porco smut #porco x reader #porco x y/n #porco imagines #porco x you #porco fluff #porco thirst #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk headcanons #aot

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thisfinalfathom · 2 months ago

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(author’s note, i guess ???? i am well aware of the strange and very full-of-errors grammar i used in this. it’s written by ‘anna’ and i felt like she wouldn’t have the best grasp on english, so the grammar is veerrryyy not the greatest. lots of weird wording and run-on sentences. i reiterate: this is on purpose.)

this is a letter written by anna assaoui to lucie jurin, taking place in an au where anna never gets martyred after lucie’s death.

21 août 1987

yesterday i walked all the way to where you and i met. it took me four hours, and by the time i got there my feet were numb. i would do it again and again for you, don’t you know? i still sleep on my side of our bed. i only use half the blankets because i don’t want you cold, my angel, my star.

do you remember when you couldn’t sleep so you shook me awake and brought me to the window? we must’ve been about twelve then, i think, because you had gained a bit of weight and had a hope behind your eyes. you held tight to my hand and clung to my side (a regular little mother i was to you) while we watched the trees shiver in the wind. when you looked up at me with your ghost blue eyes and asked where we were going, i didn’t understand. we were sitting so still then. i felt like it would be still forever that way but here i am and you are gone. you are gone. i always think of you and that night in the windowsill together. you asked where we were going, i told you i didn’t know and that i wasn’t going anywhere. i didn’t lie to you. i am incapable of lying to you. the glow in your eyes faded then like you were disappointed that i didn’t understand, and shook your head slightly and turned away. i was meant to know everything for you and i couldn’t answer that question. if i had answered it right, would you still be here? would we have gotten to stay twelve years old forever? i think about that question every day and every time the answer is different. i wonder what you would ask me now if you were sitting next to me. i know what i would ask you. i think so often about what it would be like to speak to you now, when i would have so many things to say. i regret every silent moment, every quiet night filled with tv static and the humming air conditioner instead of conversation held together. i regret more often than i expected to. this isn’t to say i expected any of this. i did not anticipate being forced into missing you.

i have a recurring dream about you. in it, we are sitting alone in a yellow room together. we talk, this is the part that changes every time, and no matter the topic you get up and start walking to the door. then i cry and beg you to stay with me if only a moment longer. the worst part, when you look back over your shoulder at me and walk away like that. you leave me while you look at me. i can’t close my eyes in the shower because the water starts to feel like blood on my hands. i wonder if my palms were always so pink or if your blood has forever stained them. disgustingly i pray it to be the latter. i have thought about turning to god some nights, the lonely nights, but if he was out there you'd be in hell. my heart, you have burned enough for one lifetime. you lay behind my closed eyes. when do the good dreams start? i lie in wait to fall asleep and believe just for a minute that i am holding you. i wait to be a girl again with you, i wait for nights spent in each other’s arms.

that starry night after you calmed and we went back to bed (separate beds then) i waited for you to sleep and then stood over you, ghosting my hand over you. some nights you looked pained when you rested like you were trapped in your head but others you were at peace. this night you were peaceful. i hope you rest like that now, warm and content and left without hunger or thirst or need. in my mind you come behind me and kiss along my shoulder and ask me where are we going with your voice encased in a whisper. somewhere good. somewhere together. wait for me.

#rez writes #martyrs 2008 #martyrs #poets corner #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #letters

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xoxiu · 1 year ago

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my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader

chapter nineteen (finale)

table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.

tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline

taglist: @allamericanuniverse @llallaaa, @frieschan, @queen-klarissa

"Kiwo," Yoongi said, voice shaking from the panic and anxiety he faced. He immediately engulfed the cold, wet girl in a hug despite the mud puddle she sat in. Yoongi hated getting dirty, but he would do anything for Kiwo. "Oh, Kiwo. Never do that again."

The three trekked back to the house through the mud. Namjoon stood a few paces behind Yoongi as he carried Kiwo, taking a close look at the sight before him. Yoongi, understandably, was a mess of rage, fear, and relief. He held Kiwo tightly, afraid she would melt away from his arms somehow. Words of love mixed with scolding could be heard over the overwhelming sound of pouring rain.

Kiwo, however, looked out of it. She had not spoken a word nor let out a whimper since found, only capable of resting her head against Yoongi's shoulder. Her eyes remained on the ground, her body tense yet pliant, and her overall demeanor was of defeat.

Once they were within view, the group that remained outside ran up to Yoongi. Namjoon noted the two missing- Jungkook and Jimin. The younger must have taken the little inside once the rain had started.

Everyone had huddled together in a cold and damp embrace, cooing at Kiwo and scolding her at the same time. It appeared everyone had Yoongi's mixed emotions- happy she was safe, but disappointed over her stunt. Once again, Namjoon gave a good look-over at Kiwo- she still appeared deep in thought and out of the moment.

Yoongi picked up on Kiwo's demeanor, gently setting her on her own two feet. She started at the ground, eyes glued on her own two feet. Perhaps, Yoongi thought, she was only still frightened from her run.

Quickly, Yoongi pushed any sympathy he had for her aside. She ran from him, for God's sake! Kiwo was given the smallest ounce of freedom and tried to leave him behind. It was obvious now that any progress Yoongi thought he built with Kiwo was gone- all trust and confidence were thrown out the window.

Yoongi gripped Kiwo's shoulder tightly and marched her up the muddy hill. The rest of the group froze, wondering what caused Yoongi's sudden change in pace. Hoseok was the first to chase after them, placing a hand on Yoongi's shoulder.

"Hyung, what are you-"

"We're going back to Seoul," Yoongi said, dragging Kiwo further up the trail and back towards the house. The rage, the fear, and the panic Yoongi felt at that moment were enough to confirm his theory- Kiwo was not ready to be independent yet.

No one dared interfere with Yoongi and his rage. They all stood back and watched Yoongi shove the muddy Kiwo in the backseat of his car before speeding off.

———

Yoongi remained deathly silent as he sped through the countryside. Kiwo watched from the backseat as he clenched his jaw and tightened his hands around the steering wheel. Repeatedly she tried to talk to him, occasionally calling out his name. The man never responded.

"Did I do something bad?" Kiwo asked. Of course, she already knew the answer. But she wanted to hear Yoongi talk to her.

"Bad?" Yoongi reiterated, feeling the anger rise further within him. "After the stunt you pulled, you dare to ask if you were bad?"

It was Kiwo's turn to remain silent. She lowered her head, staring at her hands resting in her lap. Yoongi carried on with her scolding.

"Do you know how dangerous that was? This is a very steep area- you could have slipped and fallen off of a cliff!" Yoongi slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Bad. You were very bad. You won't be leaving the apartment for a year-"

Flashing lights and sirens stopped Yoongi's ranting. Both of their hearts beat out of their chests- Yoongi's speeding had attracted the attention of the police. Not sure what to do, Yoongi continued for a moment before rationalizing that continuing to break the law wouldn't make the situation any better.

"Stay quiet. Not a single word," Yoongi warned her as he turned off the engine. The officer approached them, holding a flashlight to help him see through the heavy rainfall.

"You are aware how dangerous it is to be speeding in these conditions, right?" Yoongi silently nodded at the officer, quickly holding out his license to make the encounter go by quickly. The officer moved the light from Yoongi's face towards the backseat. Kiwo kept her head down.

All she had to do was look up and give the officer her name. She would be free then. Never again would she have to see Yoongi's face. She would be on the next flight home, reunited with her friends and family. All she had to do was look at the officer.

The officer did a double take. He moved the flashlight down towards the ground, before flashing it back towards Kiwo. She looked up.

"Sir, can you step out of the vehicle for a second?" The officer demanded, hand naturally reaching down towards his holstered gun.

It felt like Kiwo blinked and all of a sudden she was in the back of an ambulance. She stared blankly as she watched Yoongi being forced into the back of a police car- his face was calm. His composure never wavered throughout the entire encounter, and Kiwo swore she saw him smirk at her every once in a while.

"Kiwo, you need to answer our questions," an officer said. He followed her stare towards Yoongi before giving her a sad smile. "It's okay, he can't hurt you now."

The girl tugged the blanket wrapped around her shoulders tighter as she cast her gaze down to the ground. Yoongi never really hurt her. Of course, he punished her, but he only did that whenever Kiwo was bad and deserved it. But he never left any lasting wounds. Kiwo sighed. All she wanted was Yoongi.

———

There was no trial, contrary to what the detectives in Korea told Kiwo. Every day, she would sit at home waiting for the call saying that she would have to come and speak against Yoongi in court. Kiwo didn't want anyone to know what Yoongi did to her- she was too embarrassed. She was even more embarrassed to admit she missed him.

After all these months, Kiwo never said a single word about what happened to her. It was like her and Yoongi's secret. And Kiwo was good at keeping secrets. She hoped Yoongi would be proud of that.

Every day she would go through the motions of life- making herself food, small talk with her family, and therapy appointments. It wasn't actually Kiwo doing any of those activities, it was more like a ghost trying its best to adjust to life after Yoongi.

In her head, everything was Yoongi. School life was Pre-Yoongi, Yoongi, of course, was Yoongi, and whatever life she lived now was referred to as Post-Yoongi. This Post-Yoongi Kiwo wasn't Kiwo. The real Kiwo was still in Korea, cuddled in bed with Yoongi watching whatever Disney movie she wanted. While the real Kiwo mourned her Pre-Yoongi self, she could never imagine her Post-Yoongi life, because it would never exist. Her life was all Yoongi, and she herself was all Yoongi's.

Kiwo stared down at her phone. The victim's services website stared back at her in its bold white and blue color scheme. Raindrops fell gracefully down onto the screen, and she blamed the water droplets for entering Yoongi's name into the search bar.

'Status: Discharged'

It rained the day Kiwo was taken away. Just like that day several months ago, she felt cold. Winter passed in the months she was gone, but the chill of winter remained in the early spring air. She remembered that day well- how she froze as her life was torn away from her and packed into the backseat of a police car. Today, she wasn't numb and fearful of the future. She knew what she was doing.

Putting her phone in her jacket pocket, she crossed the side street toward the fancy high-rise apartment complex. The area felt like a warm hug in the chill breeze. Kiwo knew this area well. Her muscle memory led her up the stairs and towards the only door she knew. With every step, she walked faster in anticipation; she was going home.

Kiwo watched as her shaking finger reached out to ring the doorbell. So close, she was so close to being home again. Everything depends on whether or not Yoongi would open the door for her.

The buzzing of the doorbell died down, and shuffling footsteps could be heard quickly approaching the door. Kiwo kept her head down as tears threatened to overflow from her eyes. This was all too real, too crazy.

Yoongi opened the door to an unexpected sight. He smiled warmly down at the girl in front of him.

“Welcome home, baby.”

(a/n:

ahhhh there will be a sequel my angels dont fret)

#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #mafia au #bts little space #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #vminhope #namjin #my house of stone your ivy grows

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soullessjack · 1 year ago

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so one of my other problems with babyjack is that the fandom just seems to have this sort of collective cognitive dissonance about it, in almost any context or discussion. like this post as probably my only standing example (bc it’s the only one to have gotten traction), there are all these tags about how babyjack leads to bad dean criticism, or how it’s nice in aus but they want canon complex jack, and like I’m not entirely disagreeing with that, but it is so fucking frustrating that people are still ignoring the actual problem with it and either only focusing on the most surface level issues that personally affect them or their corner of the fandom, or making up some point of acceptability for it that frankly isn’t theirs to make.

it’s the autistic experience of our struggles never being seen or cared about until they become other people’s inconveniences, and our voices being used to say something else entirely. when the main takeaway of that post is how the fandom’s treatment of jack being in a way he’s explicitly shown to hate being treated directly mirrors autistic people’s struggle for autonomy in the real world, I really do not need you to make it about how it makes your golden website boy dean look like a big meanie pants, okay? that’s definitely a part of it, but it’s not at all what we are talking about, and it 100% should not be the only reason you care.

and especially when the other takeaway is how this is just a smaller scale issue that comes from autistic infantilization, the absolute last take I want to hear is that you find that infantilization acceptable as long it’s an AU or something else separated from canon. believe me, I’m beyond glad more people actually prefer canon complex jack—like, I don’t think you guys understand that that is legitimately a rarity to find here— but the thing about babyjack is that the concept itself is inherently ableist, and directly relies on his complexities (and the representation he means for us) being removed and erased so that he can even exist in the context of those AU’s. It feels very… ‘have your cake and eat it too’ to me.

I’m trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but I am also tired of having to force civility on a problem that’s pretty much just an open secret thar everyone collectively ignores and beats bushes around solely because they prioritize #domesticdestiel over all. I mean, do you guys even hear yourselves sometimes? Like half of it just boils down to “Autistic infantilization is always bad, except for this one context where it makes my ship look domestic and redeems my blorbo,” and it’s getting really fucking annoying to have to constantly explain something that is not only painfully easy to understand, but is understood and actively ignored, and still play nice so that somebody out there might listen.

So many people will say they like canon Jack and want more of him from the fandom, and I more than agree, but motherfucker you have a blog! You have the tools! Be the change you want to see! He doesn’t have to be your fav or your blog thesis blorbo, but if you want it, you are literally fully equipped to make it! Write some meta, draw some fanart, whatever. Better yet, you could even stop engaging with and perpetuating content that actively pushes down on what you want and, I must reiterate, is actively harmful and ableist. If you want domestic silliness go right ahead, but you don’t need to resort to ableism to do it.

I don’t think I’m asking too much or asking rudely, and frankly I don’t even think I owe niceties to anyone when it’s a problem that has been openly ignored for 6 years and holds plenty of bearing in the real world concerning my identity and community and shit we face constantly. Outside of our screens, we are constantly fighting for autonomy and recognition and representation, and even to be seen as people. Online spaces, especially fandom spaces, are a huge source of escapism and support that we wouldn’t get otherwise. So for the love of god, please stop bringing that fight here.

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btsqualityy · 2 years ago

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Y.O.U (Years Of Us), Chapter 7: “Where’s your wedding ring?”

Jimin x half black/half Korean OC

Genre/Rating: 21+, established relationship, idol!AU, smut, angst, and fluff

Summary: The morning (or week) after.

Warnings: Brief mention of overdose and rehab.

WC: 2.2K

One Year Ago

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Kamaria gushed as her and Jimin sat together on the large wooden swing that was placed in his spacious backyard. “You fucking did it, baby.”

“I have to admit, there were days I didn’t think I was gonna be able to make it without the pills,” Jimin confessed. “But I’m happy to be out on the other side and in recovery.”

“I knew you could do it.”

“I think that’s a part of the reason why I was able to do it too,” he mentioned. “Knowing that I had you rooting for me and having your support when it felt like everyone else had turned their backs on me meant the world. Hell, without you, I would’ve never gone to rehab.”

“Maybe but it was your willpower that got you through it,” Kamaria tried to say.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for it, honestly.”

“You don’t have to,” she chuckled. “I did it because I love and care about you, not for any accolades.”

“Well, I guess you’re gonna think I’m a little extra for getting you this then,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring box.

“Jimin,” she whined playfully. “Come on. Just having you home is enough for me.”

“What if you could say your husband is home?” He questioned and Kamaria arched an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” She asked and Jimin answered her by sliding down off of the swing and getting down on one knee in front of her.

“Bubs, you are the love of my life,” he began. “When I think of my life, I can’t remember what it was like before you came into it and I don’t ever want to imagine what it would be without you in it. That’s why I was wondering if you would marry me?” He opened the ring box then, revealing the most stunning square cut diamond ring that Kamaria had ever seen.

This wasn’t the first time Jimin had asked Kamaria to marry him, nor the second or even the third. But unlike the other times, where she was happy and only turned him down because it was too soon, her heart filled with dread at what she knew she had to do.

“Jimin,” she began gently. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Do you not?” He chuckled.

“Baby, you just got out of rehab less than a week ago,” Kamaria reminded him. “You need to be focused on your recovery, not marriage.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t even be in recovery if it weren’t for you,” he reiterated. “Not that I ever doubted it, but you being my side just proved how strong our love is.”

“I hear you Jimin, I do but I just....I can’t say yes,” she shook her head. “I want to but I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he repeated, his hand that had been holding the ring box slowly lowering as her words sunk in.

“I just want to make sure that you’re stable first,” Kamaria hurried to explain. “A lot has happened in the last few months and I just don’t think such a large life change like marriage is the best idea right now.”

“Ok,” Jimin murmured as he got up, closing the ring box and pushing it back into his pocket.

“I still love you, and that’s always,” she said and Jimin just nodded his head.

“I love you too,” he replied with a small smile before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m gonna head into the house, ok?”

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, just fine,” Jimin nodded before turning around and walking away. Kamaria couldn’t help it as tears began to well up in her eyes, making her smack her thigh in frustration.

“Fuck.”

......................................................................

A week after their unexpected “reconnection”, Kamaria hadn’t spoken to Jimin and she refused to. She couldn’t believe that she had sunk so fucking low, low enough to sleep a fucking married man. Granted, it was Jimin, the man she had been in love with for literal years and who loved her back just as much, but still, she felt wrong as hell for what she did.

Jimin, on the other hand, had been blowing up her phone ever since she made him leave the morning after their night together. Kamaria knew that she’d probably have to talk to him at some point and clear the air, but that was just not a conversation she wanted to have any time soon.

So she put it off. She put her head down and started spending more time in the studio, working on her album that was steadily coming together.

“You’ve been a fucking beast the past few days,” Nari noted as Kamaria let the two of them into her penthouse. After locking the door and removing their jackets and shoes, they made their way into the kitchen where Kamaria went straight for the fridge. “You’ve finished what, two songs?”

“Three and a half,” Kamaria corrected. “The half is my duet with Taemin, which I’ve finished writing my lyrics for.”

“Is he doing his lyrics on his own?”

“Pretty sure he is,” she nodded. “We have a studio session planned for next week so we’ll see.”

“You make my job so easy, you know that?” Nari sighed dreamily, making Kamaria laugh as she raided the fridge. As Nari moved to sit down on one of the barstools that was placed at the island, she noticed a gold ring sitting on the countertop. “Hey, is this a wedding ring?”

“Hm?” Kamaria hummed as she turned to glance over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah it is.”

“Who’s is it?” Nari chuckled. “And why do you have it?”

“It’s Jimin’s,” Kamaria announced as she moved out of the fridge, a container of pineapple in her hands. Nari choked on her own spit at the realization, her eyes widening as Kamaria casually grabbed a fork and popped the top off of the container in her hands.

“Ok,” Nari said slowly. “And again, why do you have it?”

“He left it here,” Kamaria shrugged before eating a piece of fruit.

“Why did he take it off? When the hell was he even here?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Kamaria huffed in between chewing.

“Because I’m confused as hell!” She laughed. “Please, don’t tell me you did what I’m thinking you did.”

“If you’re thinking that he took it off when we fucked last week, then I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Kamaria!”

“Technically, I didn’t tell you,” she replied. “Just confirmed what you were already thinking.”

“Wha? How?” Nari stammered.

“It was on the anniversary of my mom’s OD and I was vulnerable and just wanted to feel good,” Kamaria explained. “I put him out so fast the morning after, he left his ring.”

“Have you spoken to him since?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I feel so fucking guilty over letting it happen.”

“Why?”

“Nari, he’s married,” Kamaria scoffed. “And regardless of our prior history and whatever pain I was feeling at the time, I should’ve respected that.”

“Kam, Jimin doesn’t even respect it!” Nari exclaimed. “He made that clear when he asked you to be his surrogate and by even coming over here that night!”

“That still doesn’t make it right,” Kamaria replied before eating another piece of pineapple and a few seconds of silence passed before Nari spoke up again.

“You should destroy the damn thing,” she suggested. “It might make you feel better, sort of like going to one of those destruction rooms with old computers and shit.”

“Trust me, I actually thought about it because looking at the fucking thing makes me sick,” Kamaria confessed. “But I know I’d catch hell from Jimin because he’d probably catch hell from Hye-ja.”

“I don’t know, I think Jimin would appreciate it if you did,” Nari joked. “Might make it easier for him to leave her.”

“In his dreams,” Kamaria huffed with a roll of her eyes.

......................................................................

Jimin felt like he was going to lose his mind. Kamaria wasn’t answering his calls, she refused to see him, and she had gone radio silent. If Jimin knew her as well as he know he does, he completely understood why. Kamaria was a woman with a pretty strong moral code and after the haze of drunkenness had worn off, he wasn’t surprised that she flipped out and pushed him away.

The thing was, he was tired of that. He loved her, so much that it felt like he was burning from the inside out sometimes, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her again. The way that they used to be. He understood why it couldn’t be that way but the man couldn’t help but to hope.

In order to keep his mind off her, he had been spending some time in the studio where he was starting to come up with enough material for the beginnings of an album. It had been over a year and a half since his previous one and he was itching to get back on the stage in front of the fans again.

“Ah fuck,” Jimin muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door to his house, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. As he toed off his shoes and set his keys down, he heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen.

“Make sure to put extra green onions in it, ok?” The voice instructed and Jimin walked down the hall to the kitchen, his eyes widening when he saw Hye-ja and a chef moving around together.

“Hye?” Jimin called out and Hye-ja turned around, a wide smile appearing on her face as she rushed over to her husband and threw her arms around his neck.

“Hi baby,” she cooed, pressing a firm kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he set his hands on her waist. “I thought you were in Osaka for your movie shooting.”

“Ugh, would you believe that the funding for the movie fell through at the last minute so they had to call off production?” She revealed.

“Aw, I’m sorry Hye,” he sighed. “I know you were excited about that script.”

“Ah, it’s ok,” Hye-ja shrugged. “I’ll have more free time now and the two of us can be together more. I always feel bad that we haven’t gotten the chance to be real newlyweds, with my busy schedule and you getting back into the studio.”

“It’s what comes along with the job,” Jimin chuckled. “So I get it.”

“I know and because you’re so understanding, I hired this private chef to make us a great dinner,” she revealed.

“And that dinner is just about ready,” the chef announced.

“Great,” Jimin smiled. After plating their dinners and allowing Jimin and Hye-ja to take a seat at their decorated dining table (courtesy of Hye-ja), the chef placed their food in front of them before excusing himself and leaving them alone.

“So, what have you been up to while I was gone?” Hye-ja asked him and Jimin just shrugged as he cut into his steak.

“Just been in the studio and here at home,” he replied. “Nothing amazing or interesting.”

“Songs coming together ok?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll have the barebones of an album soon.”

“Good,” Hye-ja smiled. “Well, when I was gone, I’ve been doing some thinking of my own and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What about?”

“I know that I told you that I didn’t want kids anymore,” she began and Jimin’s head popped up at the mention of kids. “And I have to be honest about something.”

“What is it?” Jimin wondered.

“When I said that, it was because I had been worried that you only married me to repair your image,” she admitted. “You know, the whole ‘Seoul’s Bad Boy’ thing?”

“Don’t remind me,” he chuckled lightly. “But that’s not why I asked you to marry me.”

“I think I’ve always known that deep down but I just had to be sure because a baby isn’t something to consider lightly, you know?” Hye-ja explained. “The beginning of our relationship was kind of a whirlwind and I wanted to make sure we were stable first.”

“So, why not just say that instead of telling me that you don’t want kids at all?”

“Like you would’ve reacted well to me telling you that I wasn’t sure of the validity of our relationship,” she scoffed with a smile and Jimin shrugged before smiling himself.

“Point taken.”

“But anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry and if you still want to, I’d love to have a child with you.”

“Hye, are you serious?” He gasped.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about it first but yeah,” she confirmed with a nod. Jimin hopped up out of his seat then, making Hye-ja laugh as he stepped over to her and got down on his knees.

“My baby is gonna be in here?” He whispered as he set his hand on her stomach.

“Hopefully,” she giggled, setting her hand on top of hers. “So, you agree?”

“Of course I do,” he nodded before leaning up and kissing her firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Hye-ja replied. “But I do have one quick question.”

“Anything.”

“Where’s your wedding ring?” Hye-ja questioned and Jimin was truly speechless, his eyes widening when he realized that his left hand was the one that was placed on Hye-ja’s abdomen.

Fuck.

......................................................................

Tag List: @dunixxd @namaslaylife @shabbamadapot @canarystwin

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lemonbooties · 1 year ago

Text

1. Blood Oath | Choso ੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

by lemonbooties

Find my work on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev here!

Summary

You and Choso swear a blood oath to protect you and keep you happy as children. What you and Choso don’t know is that you accidentally made a binding vow due to Choso’s cursed body. Upon learning of this, you take advantage of his “blood oath” to you.

Slight AU where Choso is a Jujutsu Tech student along with Yuji and everyone. Choso was resurrected shortly before Yuji was born because Kenjaku, as Kaori, thought Yuji could benefit from a sibling. Since Kaori had a limited amount of time before Yuji was born and her resources were limited, Choso was accidentally born into a child-aged body instead of a fully grown body in the show. Kaori adapted to this change and convinced Jin Itadori to “adopt” Choso by introducing him as a orphaned family member of hers. We’ll just all be delusional and pretend Wasuke Itadori was left with Choso and Yuji.

*Kechizu and Eso are never revived as Kenjaku had no use for them at that time and was frustrated that Choso’s birth was a “failure” in her eyes.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Chapter 1: Confusion

You waited patiently for your best friend, Yuji Itadori, outside of the Occult Club classroom, rocking back and forth on the heels and toes of your shoes. You did this every day, your own club normally getting out a bit sooner than Yuji’s. You didn’t mind though, it gave you a bit of extra time to take care of any after-school business and say goodbye to your classmates. Yuji was normally done by the time you finished saying goodbye to everyone. Today, he was not.

Yuji’s older brother, Choso, was two grades above you. He would usually wait with you. However, Choso was already at the hospital with his and Yuji’s Grandfather, Wasuke Itadori. The school had granted him leave from club duties as long as he was caring for their guardian.

This had been happening the previous school year as well, right when their Grandpa’s health started declining. You and Yuji had been in Junior High when this happened whereas Choso was already attending High School. The school had been surprisingly accommodating to the Itadori family, much to Wasuke’s dismay. All he wanted was for the boys to enjoy their youth, never one for their doting.

Choso, on the other hand, was all about doting. You remember when you were children, you had fallen off of the jungle gym near your house. You scraped your hands pretty bad, blood pooling in your palms. You had cried and cried while Yuji and Choso tried desperately to calm you down. This was the first time your parents had allowed you all to go to the park unsupervised and they didn’t want to worry your parents.

Choso had done the most, putting on a brave face. He had pretended to defeat the playground before exclaiming, “No one hurts my family!” When he had wacked his toy sword against the metal structure enough to make you laugh, he told both you and Yuji that he would protect you both, no matter what. Yuji had smiled brightly, vowing to also protect you. You know now that he was just imitating his older brother but Choso had actually meant it.

Choso had held up his hand, a bit of blood trickling down his wrist. “Oops.” He had said, shrugging. “I must have held my sword a little too tight.” You laughed and said something about matching but Choso had taken your hand, gripping it tightly. “I swear I’ll protect you and make you happy, Y/N. Nobody hurts my family.” Yuji had piped up too, reiterating his brother’s sentiment. You all smiled for the rest of the day, Choso playing protector on the playground with you guys until it was time to go home.

You were brought out of your thoughts by the student council president storming down the hall. He gave you a curt nod of acknowledgment, you bowed slightly in response as he slammed open the classroom door next to you and began yelling.

“OCCULT RESEARCH CLUB!” He yelled, pushing his glasses further up his nose as if it was an intimidation tactic. After some ruckus in the classroom, Coach Takagi joined them and after some more yelling, Yuji, followed by everyone inside made their way down the hallway. Yuji yelled for you to follow. You had no clue what was happening but you figured it had something to do with Coach Takagi harassing Yuji to join the Track and Field team.

When you all arrived at the field, the whole team gathered around as Coach Takagi explained that he and Yuji would be competing. Yuji was competing to be in the Occult Club while Takagi was competing for Yuji to join Track and Field. Rather quickly, the crowd grew and watched as Yuji absolutely decimated Coach Takagi, winning the bet and was allowed to stay with the Occult Club. The look on Coach Takagi’s face caused a lot of students to laugh and take out their phones for pictures.

Yuji had a brief conversation with his Occult Club members before he noticed the time. “Y/N! We need to go!” He called to you as he ran to grab his bag from where he threw it before the throwing competition. He briskly jogged towards you, joining you as you both started to walk off campus. As you both walked out of the crowd, you noticed someone out of the corner of your eye.

Looking over, you met eyes with a kid, probably around your guys’ age. He had black spiky hair and was wearing a nice button up and slacks. He was pretty cute and looked a bit like Choso, his hair spiky the same way Choso’s was when he put it up. However, the sour expression he wore definitely turned you off of thinking he was cute. You wondered why he was scowling at you and Yuji but you just brushed it off, assuming he smelt something rancid or remembered something annoying.

At the gate, Yuji turned to you and clasped his hands together. “Would you mind walking home with another friend today? I’m running pretty late because of Coach so I really need to get home before going to the hospital.” He pleaded. Whenever Yuji wanted something from you, he pouted and looked at you with huge eyes. He started doing this when it worked once. It’s never worked since.

“Only because I respect your Grandfather.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine walking home alone today. But you better not be late.” Your pink-haired friend said a quick thank you before he fake saluted and took off. You heard someone call for him to wait and you looked to see the scowling boy running after Yuji. You thought it was super weird but it was almost dinner time at home so you started walking. He was probably just a fan of Yuji’s after that display with Coach Takagi.

Once home, your parents greeted you. Dinner wasn’t quite done yet so you went to your room before grabbing some clothes and a towel for a bath. Letting your parents know you were taking a bath, they told you that they had already ran a bath for you. Thanking them, you hurried to the bathroom so you could be done before dinner.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

After dinner, you had promised some friend’s in your club you would check out a CD they recommended. Popping it into your stereo, you played it as you prepared to start your homework. The first track was pretty good and you actually felt your head bobbing along with the catchy melody. You opened your bag and looked at the assortment of notebooks and textbooks inside. You always worked with your least favorite subject first before ending with your favorite. Pulling the math notebook from your bag, you decided to start with it.

The first few problems weren’t that difficult but you found yourself growing increasingly frustrated as they grew harder. Soon, you were angrily erasing your work for the third time, unsure of why this problem was so much harder than the rest. You desperately needed a break and stretched. Getting up, you gathered a water bottle you had on your desk before starting to head to the kitchen. You shot a quick text to Yuji to ask him about the homework, hoping he would answer soon and help you.

Heading down the hall, you hear your father talking to someone rather quickly. You can’t quite understand what he’s saying, partially because he’s talking so fast but also, he’s a little of out of your earshot. You walk further down the hall until you’re on the other side of the living room wall. “Please, I haven’t been active for years. I’ve done everything he wanted. Why is he doing this now? I have a family, a daughter. It’s been over fifteen years. I even suppressed his offspring’s cursed technique for 15 years. I allowed them to play with my daughter, putting her in danger her whole life. Why now?”

His words rang through your head. What is he talking about? Active in what? Cursed technique? Your heart started to pound in your chest. Was your father in a gang? You were about to peek around the corner when another voice caused you to stop. His words echoed through you, the overwhelming dread halting you.

“I’m just fulfilling a favor I owed him. He didn’t give any more details.” It spoke.

A million questions raced through your head, your heart beating so hard you thought it might explode. ‘Why am I so afraid?’ You wondered, clutching desperately at your chest to try and slow your heartbeat. Your heart was pounding painfully now, your body crying out for you to run. But from what?

After those words, a silence filled the space. You heard your father quietly sniffling. Was he crying? He was pleading, “please.” He cried, over and over until he was cut off by an unpleasant ripping sound. Your father screamed followed by a wet slosh and a splash. Running into the living room, you entire world shattered as you watched your father explode at the hands of a blue-haired man.

Your own scream alerted him to your presence and he whipped his head towards you. There were three lines of stitches on his face and on his neck. Other lines of stitching lined his body and his eyes were two different colors. He smiled maniacally, his face contorted in a sick display of pleasure. Did he enjoy what he just did?

Standing tall, he started to walk towards you but before he could close the distance, you both heard a car door close outside of your house. Both of you looked at the front door and time froze. This might be your only chance to not end up like your father. You gripped your phone and darted towards the front door, hoping whoever was here could help you. If they couldn’t, you’d at least have a chance to call authorities.

Throwing the door open, you practically flew out of the house and straight into someone. In an instant, you were shoved behind them as they entered your house to see what had you so frightened. You peered inside behind them and saw that the blue-haired man had disappeared, the only thing you could see inside was your father’s blood splattered against the wall. You forced yourself to look away, not being able to digest what happened just yet.

“What happened?” Asked the figure in the doorway. They turned around and you finally got a look at the man who possibly saved you. At the very least, he scared away your father’s murderer. He was big, his athletic frame donned with a dark tracksuit. His hair was short and spiky with the sides shaved. You couldn’t tell if he was even looking at you due to the sunglasses he wore. His facial features were sharp yet obviously aging a bit and he had some of facial hair.

You tried to find the words but only managed to ask, “Is my father dead?” His body relaxed a bit as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Yes, it seems as if your mother was also involved. You have my deepest sympathy, your father was a good man.” Your body felt paralyzed. Your parents were dead. Your mother was killed while you sat in your room. You were listening to music, unable to hear the atrocity happening in your house. You were frustrated about math as your family was being slaughtered.

The man in front of you was talking but you didn’t hear him. At some point, you felt your legs give out. The man tried to help you stand but gave up and carried you to the car he arrived in. Once inside, you slumped into the seat, unable to understand why this happened. What was that blue-haired man talking about? Why did he kill your father? Your mother?

You felt yourself drift off, your body and mind absolutely exhausted from what just happened. You just had to trust that the strange man who may or may not be there to help wouldn’t kill you as you slept.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You didn’t know what time it is when you woke up but when you open your eyes, you’re still in the car and it’s day again. “Good morning.” You look to the source of the greeting and see the man again. You nod in his direction before sitting all the way up and wiping the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

“Where are we?” You ask, not recognizing the passing surroundings. The man crossed his arms, “On the way to Tokyo.” He grunted. “Sorry, I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Masamichi Yaga, an old friend of your father’s”

“He never mentioned you.” You retort, a little upset about him bringing up your recently deceased father. You quickly glance at your phone, hoping to catch the time but a blank display greets you. Your phone must have died. You slightly curse yourself for not plugging it in when you got home but how were you supposed to know that you wouldn’t have access to a phone charger.

“It’s 7:13.” Yaga told you. “And it’s no surprise he didn’t mention me. He had a problem with my, um, lifestyle.” You really didn’t have the energy to deal with his explanations but you needed an answer. “What lifestyle? You ask.

“I’ll try to keep this short as I’ll give you a full explanation later, when we arrive in Tokyo. I am a Jujutsu Sorcerer.” Yaga paused and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask, “Jujutsu?” He nodded.

“I’m taking you to my school, Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. I’m the principal and a long time ago, I made a promise to look after you in case something happened to your father.” Your head was spinning. So he did really know your dad, but how? And a school? What is this guy after?

“Why are we just now leaving Sendai? Wasn’t my family attacked last night?” You asked. Tokyo was about four hours from Sendai City, if you had left last night, you’d already be in Tokyo. “There was another situation I had to attend to regarding one of my students. I also had to make arrangements to clean up your house. I grabbed you some clothes and other essentials, I wasn’t sure what all you would’ve wanted but you wouldn’t wake up when we tried.”

“So my family…” You swallowed before asking, “they’re really gone?” Yaga took a moment to respond and when he did, he was quiet.

“Yes.”

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

#fanfic #fanfiction #Choso #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #female reader #f!reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic

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