#somewhere else shops au

[fox-guardian]

please PLEASE we need more of that somewhere else au

hi i've been sitting on this ask for a hot minute cuz i've been trying to think of how events in this world would line up with events in the og timeline. like.

i'm trying to figure out gerry's family situation. because he bonds with this universe's martin over their mommy issues, but his mom couldn't have found and gotten obsessed with a leitner, since they don't exist in this world. so how could she become a killer? well, she does it The Normal Way. no spooky shit, she just kills people for her own purposes.

and what about eric? currently i'm thinking he was left in the dark about her whole Thing because in this world, he didn't have the pre-exposure to weird shit via the institute so he's just. basically clueless the whole time they're together cuz he doesn't wanna invade her privacy too much. especially since she gets so Defensive. until gerry gets born and he gets Concerned that his wife is focusing more on the hobbies he's allowed her to keep to herself than on caring for their own child, so then he confronts her and figures out about the murders, and tries to call the police, and she tries to stop him and in the scuffle she blinds him (that's right baby he Remains Eyeless in this au)

she manages to frame him for the murders and he's locked away for ~13 years ish and she raises gerry in that time, giving him So Many Issues and eventually she just. goes back to the murders. but more subtly. only since there's More Murders In The Area Again the cops catch her and free eric and WHOO GERRY HAS HIS DAD NOW and eric loves him so much. they bond and it's wonderful. (this is obviously where we've branched off from lining up with canon this is The Good Timeline)

gerry grows up with his epic and cool dad who bonds with him via music and shitty hair dye jobs and laments that he can't see his son's cool art but gerry still describes it to him and he's like "oh that sounds so cool. i'd get that tattoo'd" and BOOM. GERRY TATTOO ARTIST DREAMS BEGIN.

he starts at a shop, gets really good, his specialty is stylized horror-related tattoos and portraits. years go by, a new guy comes in and wants to start an apprenticeship, gerry takes him under his wing. dude is pretty good and they keep working together, the guy is really good at writing script so he does a lot of text and stuff, and a lot of line-heavy designs. that guy is Martin.

one day martin informs gerry that he's noticed him being off lately, he gets concerned for his health and eventually after a lot of nagging and a one-man intervention, martin manages to get gerry to a doctor and OH NO, THERE'S A TUMOR IN HIS BRAIN but good news is they caught it in time!! now gerry has a big cool scar on his head and owes martin his life.

and then fellas. Fellas. is it gay to open a tattoo shop with the man who you taught how to tattoo and now you feel is your equal in his own right and also who saved your life because he Knew You That Well.

eric thinks so. and he kept making annoying grins about it that only got worse when gerry told him they'd made it official ("dad please" "I KNEW YOU CRAZY KIDS WOULD MAKE IT WORK" "dad" "when's the wedding" "DAD")

can you tell i've been thinking about gerry and martin a lot.

to bring it back to the "somewhere else" part, OG martin works at a coffee shop trying to get by with OG jon and gerry and eric happen to come in one day, and then another day gerry comes in with martin, Excited To Share With Him The Barista That Looks Uncannily Like Him But Older. and OG martin is, of course, shitting his pants because Oh No This Probably Isn't Good BUT THEN HE LOOKS AT MARTIN. and he's SO mad. this martin looks SO MUCH COOLER THAN HIM. he has GOLD FACIAL PIERCINGS and a SLEEVE TATTOO of ROSES. AND HE DOESN'T LOOK DEPRESSED.

he brings this up to og jon and he's just like ".... did you want to get piercings. i mean you know you'd look cool" and jon is just feeling very 😳👀 about that part but martin is just "WHAT, AND COPY HIM?? I CAN'T DO THAT"

so uh yeah that's uh. that's the most detailed i've got so far. i've got a little bit of jon and sasha and surprisingly little for the stokers. but yeah <3 this got long <3

[wanderingpages]

idk if you do requests outside of jurdan but its been in my head like tattoo artist Rowan and receptionist Aelin? and dating? and like...smut? ahhh thank you bye

∞

Rowan frowns when he sees her, sitting on the step just to the side of his shop. It’s been raining on and off all weekend, only now subsiding to a foggy mist, turning the small town as gray as Rowan’s reluctant to admit he’s been feeling. Aelin is under an awning, so she isn’t quite wet, but the damp strands of her hair is enough to let him know she’s at least ran through a sudden downpour from her car to where she’s currently at. She perks when he approaches, squinting but the pretty gem like hues in her eyes are still breath taking to him. She’s grinning wide and it breaks something in him, something he hates to even acknowledge he’s built up over the past few days. Aelin stands, bouncing from her tip toes as he nears her. Even heightened by the step, he still towers over her. She doesn’t mind tilting her head up, though.

“Hi,” She says.

His lip tilts upward, “Hi,” he responds. She takes a step to the side, and he reaches behind her to open the door. He gestures her first, letting her lead the way up the steps, to his apartment. Her shorts are high waisted, and he’d always tease her about her pairing it with oversized sweaters, much like she’s wearing today, because it made no sense to him - to be only partially warm. He does not point out the goosebumps on her legs, knowing he’d only get a narrowed eye response instead.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” She murmurs, ruffling her hair a bit. “Wasn’t sure if you’d answer, with your appointment today.” As his front receptionist, Aelin is well versed in all the clients booked for months in advance, so he’s not surprised that she knows he had an eight hour session, inking a regular customer of his. She probably also knows he should feel absolutely drained right now -  barely managing to remember to buy food before returning home - but he’s not. Rowan is absolutely zinging with unchecked energy.

It probably started the day she walked into his shop to answer an ad the previous receptionist had posted. Sparked when she’d ask him to pierce her not long after. Maybe it snowballed with her opting to stay behind after hours, using the break room for her class assignments, quietly keeping him company when sessions had flown well into odd hours. It definitely ignited when she’d kissed him goodnight on a whim, running off to her car before he’d even gotten the chance to comment.

It's been kindling when he’d gotten her chocolate during his lunch break one day and then every day after. When she'd left him a note the next day. When he had invited her up for dinner, when he had dropped her off to class the morning after, picked her up some time in the afternoon. When he thought it was cute when she eyed the women who get inked by him, flustered him when he felt jealous over a guy flirting with her.

They hadn’t been shouting it from rooftops. In fact, if Rowan’s honest with himself,  he’d been the one to keeping it under the radar – he’d felt bad enough because of the age gap, but to add the fact he’s her boss as well? Yet, roles applied still didn’t mean Aelin did not have complete control over him, mind body and soul. It took him a while to accept it, but he was all hers.

He just finds himself wondering if she was all his, too.

She reaches up to the ledge above the door, finding the spare key he’d shown her some time ago, and easily opens the door, jiggling the knob just right and giving it a quick kick after turning the key twice. She holds it wide open for him, toeing off her soaked kicks as he enters. He sets the food on the counter, before working on his boots and tugging off his hoodie.

“Were you waiting long?” She leans against the shut door, watching him undress like she hasn’t seen it more than a few times before, still it reddens her cheeks, despite the utter conservativeness of it all. She bites on her lip like she’s waiting for a show and he can’t help the small chuckle he lets out.

She shakes her head, coming back to the moment. “No." She shrugs as if its any consolation for her wait, "I missed you,” she smiles at him, almost shyly. It had been some time since they’d last been able to speak to each other properly. Despite her spending most nights with him, she had requested a few days off of work for finals, and he was at that point of the year where all him and his artists were booked until the end of summer. Still, he’d manage to find a few hours, and eager as he was to finally just be with her, Aelin had turned him down. He’d been too late, apparently, she’d already made plans. He frowns, trying not to think about it, hating the way it makes him feel, if he’s to be honest with himself.

“Missed you too,” he lets her know, heading to the cupboards to grab some plates. He divides the food, half for him and half for her, while she takes a seat at the table, tucking her cold toes beneath her. They talk idly, comfortably, touching when they can – hands, shoulders, knees. They seem to only gravitate closer to each other, stealing from the other’s plate, talking lower to have their heads meet in the middle, leaning closer to steal quick kisses – it’s all very domestic, so then why is Rowan feeling so goddamn feral?

They’ve managed to move to the couch, he’s leaned back watching a game he can’t quite say who’s winning or what sport it even is and Aelin is turned to face him, kneeling beside him, feet tucked like they had been before and she’s touching the ink on the side of his face tracing the patterns to the scruff of his hair. “When are you going to ink me,” she teases.

“When you know what you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your roots are growing,” she comments, tugging lightly at the overgrown locks where dark meets silver. He smiles but it's wary. His hand rests on her hips and he squeezes lightly, and without thinking, he leans his head on her, pleased to find that thump of her heart beating roughly against his ears. Aelin lets out a sigh, raking her fingers into his moonlight locks and finally asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” he debates on bottling it up, because maybe this is a generational thing and dating means something different to him than it means to her.

“You seem… out of touch with me,” and her voice splinters at the end, going so soft, it almost gets drowned out by the insistent pumping of her heart in his ears.

He holds her tighter, and finally admits, “I… I walked by the bar after work that day.” Maybe she hadn’t meant to purposely leave out exactly whom she was planning to meet up with, but the guilt ridden look on her face tells him that she’d thought nothing good would come from Rowan knowing this information. “Did you think I wouldn’t know about your date?” he tries to smile but it feels all wrong – he had tried to be teasing, but he’s hurt – angry even. “Or did you think I wouldn’t have trusted you?”

“We were just talking,” she tells him, “It wasn’t anything serious.” Rowan holds his tongue, figuring maybe if he’d been more public with their relationship instead of sneaking in kisses during the day when no one’s watching, treating dates as secrets, and avoiding answering questions by their peers, maybe he wouldn’t feel as shitty as he does now. “I should have told you – but I didn’t think it meant anything – it still doesn’t mean anything.”

He tilts his head to look up at her, holds her steady and reaches with his free hand to touch the ends of her hair, twisting sunlight around his finger almost absently. “This is new – everything with you is new,” he confesses. He doesn’t want to be that guy – the one who’s insecure about his girl hanging with other guys, doesn’t want to second guess when she says she’s made plans. He traces down her arm, grabbing the tips of her fingers and leading them to his lips, kissing them lightly. “I trust you,” he lets her know, “So please,” he begs, watching the flush in cheeks, the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth, “Don’t make a fool out of me, Aelin.”

“I promise,” she says, not even a beat later and just the same, he’s tugging her on top of his lap. The television casts an array of colors like an aura behind her – godly, he thinks. She bends forward, her hair curtaining them, encasing them with a familiar scent. “Maybe I should have let you known,” Aelin says quietly, “That when I'm with you, I'm with you. No one else.” Rowan’s hand glides just under her sweater, fingers splaying where he knows birthmarks hide. His other hand weaves gently into her hair, pushing strands back, behind her ear, palm pressing to her cheek, holding her face steady when he shortens the distance and kisses her so softly. Her toes curl, knees on either side of him squeezing his thighs. He brings her closer to him, so close the fabric of their clothes begin to imprint and indent against their skin. “I’m sorry,” Aelin murmurs against his lips.

She’s rough when she’s kissing him again, desperate, like she needs to show him she means it and this is the only way she can think of. And when Rowan bites at her lips, he knows she doesn’t mind because her hands are at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper against her, then she guides his lips down her neck when she can’t seem to get air in her lungs. His teeth scrapes against her flesh, her nails against his. He breaks only to get her sweater off, digits immediately at her navel, fingerprints covering the golden charm he had so carefully pierced into her skin. He mouths at her breasts, pulling her bra down enough to latch on to a nipple. She calls out his name in surprise, hips grinding hard against his. His tongue flicks roughly against the nipple before it flattens over her, soothing the ache while Aelin rubs her hips against his, frantic for more friction.

He should slow down, he thinks, biting at the swell of her breasts, blooming pink and reddening marks wherever he can. He’s never been this rough with her before, never thought of his markings as punishment - but she’s guiding his hand to her the buttons of her shorts, fumbling to get them undone, “Rowan… - I, ahh,” she doesn’t mind. More, she wants to say, but she doesn’t have to, his fingers are right where she wants them, working fast and expertise, having her panting and quivering and he’s not even in her yet, just rubbing her between her folds, soft then faster, and when he presses down on her clit, she’s screaming into his shoulder, trying to muffle her cries when she comes.

She’s still breathing rough when he has her on her back, her bra behind the couch, her shorts and underwear right at his feet. His shirt came off, but his jeans are just barely undone, settling below his hips, because he’s feeling so fucking frantic. “Wait – ah,” she throws an arm over her eyes, trying to settle the stars swimming in her vision, “need to breathe,” she tells him, though she lets him spread her legs wide and position himself right between her. Her stomach tenses on the contact alone. Her chest heaves up and down, she’s coming down but not quite there yet. Her body jolts and she twitches involuntarily, knees shaking when the tip of his cock slides right between her folds.

He likes her like this – he likes her in a lot of different ways, but especially this. Her hand flies to his bicep and he has a full view of how her face contorts, how her eyes screw shut so tight that her nose scrunches up. “Look at me, princess,” he murmurs, “let me see those pretty eyes,” she opens her eyes, a wave of colors akin to the sun meeting the ocean, and her lips part as he slides his cock up and down, pressing the tip to her clit. His breath is hot in her ears, “You can catch your breath later,” is all the warning he gives her when he pushes into her.

She cries out, fingernails digging into his arms, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Ah!” she’s not yet fully back from her first orgasm, but it already feels like an onslaught of much more hitting her in succession, too quickly, too soon. One of Rowan's hand is holding a thigh in place, at angle just right, hitting her fucking womb with every thrust. His other hand is placed against her stomach, and she feels like she’s going to explode – at a loss for words, at a loss for all her senses, Aelin really only knows his name. “Ro – ah… ah! Ro...wan…” She manages to move her hands to his face, pulling him closer, heads touching when she gets lost in his eyes. Tears prick, and her breath catches. Her chest feels so tight but she just wants him to consume her. “Ah…” she manages just hoarse little noises, overwhelmed he’s fully inside of her, and he begins to just rotate his hips enough that his pelvis rubs against her swollen clit.  “Want… it…” she gets out, gibberish in her slurs, “Want you…”

Rowan moves out of her slowly, “You’re so good,” he murmurs, thumb moving to press her clit. She weeps, drawing blood when her nails scrape down the back of his neck. He feels himself sliding in and out of her, the palm of his hand practically caving into her abdomen. He’s fucking her so deep and so hard, he feels like he’s absolutely losing himself in her. “You look… so beautiful,” Rowan whispers, maybe for the first time with the way her eyes flash in surprise. “Look how well you take me,” he murmurs, in place of the awful possessive shit he really wants to say. "So good..." He’ll hold his tongue from saying, “this is mine – you’re all mine.” He makes sure to embed it into her skin instead, makes sure Aelin still feels him when this all over, makes sure he leaves his marks on her like lewd little tattoos.

[journalofimprobablethings]

The full fic of this snippet is finally posted!

Words: 14022

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Tags: Location: Somewhere Else, Post-Canon, Memory Loss, Coffee Shops, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Martin,

I know you'll never read this. I know I'm writing to a version of you that no longer exists. It hurts to think it, still. The fact that you're gone. But I'm writing anyway, because I miss you, more than I can put into words.

And because I saw you today, for the first time since I arrived here.

-

Martin is intrigued by an attractive new customer who comes into the coffee shop - especially when that customer has a strangely intense reaction to seeing him.

[mememan93]

i need to be able to project my thoughts into a tumblr draft. like my visual thoughts. i picture this idea perfectly in my head but im gonna forget it. AH

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[anashins]

Room 803

Pairing: university student!Jaehyun x kindergarten teacher!reader

Genre: fake engagement au, neighbors au, age gap, hate to love, drama, romance, smut

Word Count: 26k

Warnings: reader is five years older than Jaehyun; Jaehyun doesn't treat women very nicely in the beginning; there is a lot of scheming going on; some characters have a questionable moral compass (cheating, blackmailing, lying, traditional family arrangements); there is an explicit rated scene (handjob, mc gets hand over mouth) and two suggestive ones, all of which you can skip if you want

Summary: You hate your neighbor in room 803 to the core, because his raunchy and very vocal bed activities always keep you up at night. There is no scenario in which you can ever imagine tolerating a lousy brute like him—until you get entangled in a web of lies and your neighbor comes into picture to play along. Your raunchy, lousy neighbor, who, to your surprise, fits the role of your fake fiancé very well. Almost too well.

A/N: Hi! So this is the result of ring window shopping and the Unconditional MV. I drew inspiration for the opening scene from my very own fic "Sinned" that I've first published on Aff. Leave feedback if you want <3 Happy reading! (D-482 until Jaehyun returns)

Finding a suitable apartment in the downtown of a very busy metropolis was a challenge. 

There were many things to consider during apartment hunting: the location, the price, the layout, the facilities, and also the distance to the next station depending on your commute. Nobody wanted to live in a rundown one bedroom on the 10th floor with no elevator and paper thin walls for which you still paid a fortune.

You were very lucky to have none of that.

Your apartment consisted of two rooms in a new building and was located on the 8th floor. It had three elevators, a concierge service, and even a small convenience store connected to the lobby. It cost more than a third of your salary, but with all the benefits, it was worth it. You couldn’t have thanked your co-worker enough to have passed it on to you when she had moved away, so that you could finally live closer to your workplace.

You loved your new apartment. 

But you hated your neighbors.

A neighbor on the 9th floor liked to play the drums for at least two hours a day and usually chose to do that when you had already returned home from work. A neighbor on the 7th floor liked to discuss things very heatedly with his girlfriend right by the window. Three rooms away from you on the 8th floor, there was a dog barking constantly, and somewhere else in the building, a tenant invited guests over to throw a party almost every Saturday night.

But your next-door-neighbor living in room 803 was the worst. 

“Yes, right there! Oh my… yes, yes yes!”

It was 1am on a Sunday night and you were supposed to get up in five hours, not having found even a single minute of sleep until now since the noises had been going on for an hour already at this point.

“Oh… Jaehyun! Ahhh! Oooooh!”

You pressed your pillow against your face and muffled your agonized scream in it. Almost every night, it was the same. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, and you were able to count yourself lucky if he paused these sessions for two or three days in a row. But then they came back even stronger. And tonight was such a night. 

“Yes, oh god… oh my god! Ahhh, Jaehyun!”

You clenched your fist, raised your arm and hammered against the wall. 

But instead of slowing down, stopping or even reacting to you, you now heard his bed pound against the wall that separated your rooms, accompanied by the woman’s constant screaming.

“Shut up, it’s in the middle of the night!” you yelled.

“Get lost, we’re done already!” he yelled back.

Following his words, you then noticed the silence that had suddenly filled your room, finally allowing you to welcome your well-deserved sleep as tomorrow, another long workday awaited you. But your neighbor, of course, didn’t understand as he would start all over again tomorrow night. 

He was a university student in his senior year, his naturally dark hair constantly messy and bleached blond to the brink of extinction, always dressed in joggers and hoodies, and apparently enjoying life to the fullest. 

He was your neighbor Jeong Jaehyun, living in room 803 and your personal enemy since day one.

____

After having tried to conceal the dark circles under your eyes with heavy makeup the next morning, you were late again as you let the entry door fall closed behind you and hurried along the hallway with your heels audibly clacking over the floor. You called for the elevator by pressing the button and waited nervously, praying in silence that you would still catch the next subway.

From behind you, you heard another door getting opened and pivoting around, you spotted a woman stepping out of apartment 803. Or better say, she was thrown out as she only stood in the corridor in her underwear, another two pieces of clothing falling to her feet that had come shooting from the opened entry door. 

“I don’t even get breakfast?” she sulked as she picked up her clothes from the floor. 

“I told you not to rummage through my home.”

Jaehyun emerged by the door now, his blond hair sticking out to all sides as he seemingly tried to block her away back in. He was wearing a bathrobe and was clearly still tired too. Even though you wanted to, it was so hard for you to look away as you were curious about what was going on. 

“You’re an asshole!” the woman ranted while gathering her clothes. “I was only looking for a toothbrush!”

“You can look in your own home.” Jaehyun then dropped something else next to her on the floor while she was still crouching down. “Don’t forget your purse.”

You thought you were fast in turning away from the scene without anyone noticing, but he was faster in catching your curious eyes before you were facing them with your back. You drew in a breath and hoped he wouldn’t call you out on that, but Jaehyun wasn’t that kind of person. 

“Hey, Miss Neighbor!” he yelled. “Next time, instead of complaining… how about joining?”

Bringing your bag closer to your body, you suppressed your embarrassment and looked back again to threaten, “Next time, I won’t be yelling only, but come over with my baseball bat!”

You hated the grin he then threw at you. “So you’re into that kind of stuff, huh? Come over and we’ll see about that.”

Luckily, one of the elevators reached your floor at exactly that moment and you were quick enough to get in before Jaehyun’s one night stand could make it to the door at the same time.

The entire commute to the kindergarten, you thought about nothing else than your lack of sleep and how to finally put an end to this entire nonsense. At this point, it was ridiculous. You had been enduring that kind of shenanigans for one month already, and you were slowly getting fed up. No, actually, you had reached your wit’s end already. In the beginning, it had been all good and quiet, and from one day to another, it had suddenly started.

You didn’t know who had hurt him so much that he needed to compensate for his pain in this manner, but you’d rather he wouldn’t drag you into it. It only forced you to interact with him when you wanted to be left alone altogether to focus on your career.

“What is it?” your class’ homeroom teacher asked you as you entered the common room that morning. “You look so tired again.” 

“Ah, it’s just that I can’t seem to sleep well lately,” you tried to budge as you placed your bag on the desk. “A weird planet constellation or something.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. What were you supposed to say anyway? That your neighbor smashed different girls so loudly every night, it kept you up for hours? People would only laugh at you.

“Try lavender tea,” she recommended to you. “This always helps me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

On your way to your respectant classroom, you were greeted by the children who had just been dropped off and getting ready to start the day.

Teaching children had always been your dream, and being an assistant teacher at a reputable private kindergarten came with few advantages in comparison to public ones, a higher salary was one of them. The hardest part was not the amount of work or the long working hours, but the strict and high-demanding parents whose individual expectations you always had to meet.

But looking into these brightly smiling faces greeting you each morning, it was all worth it.

“There is something I need to tell you,” the homeroom teacher then announced when you reached the door of your respective classroom.

“Yes? What is it?”

She kneaded her fingers in reluctance, her bag clipped between her upper arm and body. “I’m going to transfer to another school.”

“Where would you go?” you asked, perplexed. “This is Shi-A kindergarten. There are no other more prestigious kindergartens in the entire district or even country if I dare say so. Except… It’s not a kindergarten.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m going to transfer to Shi-A elementary school. A teacher will quit by the next semester and they offered the position to me.”

You grabbed her hands, excitement written all over your face. “This is such great news! I’m so happy for you!”

“Hold on, the greatest part is yet to come.” She was five years your senior, but you saw her more like a sister than your supervisor. “I recommended you to the school board as the new homeroom teacher. The principal has agreed already, we’re currently preparing your recommendation letters.”

You were too stunned to ask more than, “Me?”

She nodded and squeezed your hands back in encouragement. “There is no one better here for this position other than you. You’re compassionate, you’re helpful and intelligent. The kids love you and rely on you. You’re finished being an assistant only, I can tell. And the principal as well.” 

“Me, as a homeroom teacher?” It sounded like a faraway dream.

“Miss!” A girl from your class, Soah, tugged on your coattail. She was holding something out to you. A yellow flower. “This is for you! I just plucked it, it was the prettiest on the playground!”

You took the flower into your hand and thanked her.

“Like I said,” the homeroom teacher commented with a wink as you entered the classroom, “there is no one better for this position other than you.”

____

“Ahhh, yes!! Jaehyun, Jaehyun!”

BAM BAM BAM

“I swear to god, Jeong Jaehyun, it’s 2am now, I will come for you!”

You jumped out of your bed, only dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a simple t-shirt, not bothering about throwing your bathrobe on or slipping into a pair of shoes at this point. You would only go to Jaehyun’s door and ring the bell to interrupt whatever they were doing right now.

“If I’m not getting any sleep, you’re not getting nutted either!”

Tomorrow, you had a very important meeting with the school board members and wanted to be well rested. So at least, for tonight only, you had hoped to get a few more hours of sleep. You had studied possible questions and answers for days by now and were not only tired, but also mentally exhausted.

But, of course, a reckless university student like Jaehyun wouldn’t understand.

When you reached your entrance door, just about to exit your apartment, you halted mid-motion, interrupted by a sound you had never heard before in this apartment building.

The fire alarm.

You were petrified at first, unsure how to react in such a situation as your mind wasn’t able to grasp the entire meaning yet. As it slowly sank down on you that it most likely meant danger as the alarm hadn’t subsided by now, you reacted very fast by finally opening the door and looking to your left and right.

At first, nothing happened, and you questioned whether your neighbors would react according to emergency plans. But then, one door after another opened on your floor and out stormed the tenants, passing by you and running down the stairs like their lives depended on it.

“Damn it!” you cursed and left your apartment the next moment as well, thinking about all your electronics and important papers that were still inside. 

But in kindergarten, you also regularly taught the children how to behave during a fire alarm, and the first and most important thing was to drop everything and get the hell out of the building. So when you were about to run down the stairs, you remembered that there was one person who hadn’t come out of their apartment yet.

“Hey!” you hammered against Jaehyun’s door after you had returned. “Hey! It’s a fire alarm! Can’t you hear?!”

Your own voice didn’t drown out the signal tone, but you tried nonetheless - to no avail. Jaehyun and whoever was with him wouldn’t come out.

“Miss, what are you still doing here?” The middle-aged man whose dog was always barking on your floor approached you with his pet. “We need to leave! Who knows where the fire has spread already!”

“But Jae-”

But the man just grabbed you by your hand and dragged you along the corridor, his strength too overpowering for you to resist. Even with your head turned and your eyes fixated on Jaehyun’s door, you couldn’t spot him coming out.

Inwardly, you just prayed that he perhaps had reacted fast and left already, but as all the residents slowly gathered in the front yard one by one, you couldn’t recognize Jaehyun among the people storming out of the lobby.

You didn’t know why you cared about that brute, just enough to look out for him.

Perhaps, your job as a teacher had made you sensitive to your surroundings and responsible for the people around you regardless of age and behaviour. You wanted everyone around you to be safe and sound, and that didn’t apply to children only.

“Where are you?” you muttered more to yourself as you got on your bare tiptoes and looked over the crowd as the last people were leaving the building, still no sign of Jaehyun.

“Looking for someone?”

“Oh my-!” you called out and stumbled backwards against the person that had just addressed you.

When you turned around, Jaehyun was standing in front of you, fully dressed in checkered pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt, his blond hair reflecting the light from the street lamp. So he had really made it out without you noticing, even after getting dressed. God knew how this had been even possible.

“Mrs. Choi,” you dodged the topic quickly. “I haven’t seen her yet.”

Jaehyun pointed at someone only two meters away from you, an elderly lady from the same floor. “There she is.”

“Ah, I see. Thank god.”

You buried your hands deep into the pockets of your pajama pants and stepped from one foot on another to warm them up a bit. You indeed had left your slippers behind in a hurry and had only noticed when it was already too late, so your toes were now cold and your soles dirty.

“Here.” Jaehyun slid out of his slippers and then stood next to you with naked feet. “Take them.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Look, your toes are slowly turning blue, and even if it’s still warm during the day, at night it’s already chilly since we almost have October already. So take them.”

You crossed your arms to warm yourself up a little more and, with much hesitation though, slid your feet into Jaehyun’s slippers. They were way too big and didn’t protect your feet from the cool breeze, but at least you didn’t need to stand on the cold and dirty asphalt anymore.

“Thank you,” you said.

Jaehyun raised his head up to the building complex. “It doesn’t seem like there is a huge fire anywhere, otherwise there would be fumes coming out of an apartment already.”

Red and blue light caught your both’s attention that was coming from the firetruck currently pulling up into the lane. Different firefighters got ready and stormed into the building in full attire, but Jaehyun was right. You couldn’t detect a fire either.

“Maybe it was only a small one and they managed to put it out already. Or someone was illegally smoking inside the apartment and the detector still picked up the fumes.”

“Whoever that was, they robbed me of a night’s fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate? If they hadn’t done that, then I would have come for you myself, because I have an important interview tomorrow. But unfortunately, this situation is worse. God knows when we can return to our homes.”

“What interview? Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“For my promotion, it’s in the headquarters. I want to be a homeroom teacher, and in my kindergarten, there is no such thing as weekends.”

“Sounds annoying,” Jaehyun commented.

You flashed your eyes at him. “Of course, for someone who sleeps until midday and whose only aim it is to smash different women every night, this sounds annoying. But I’m a full grown adult with a real job, and if only you knew about how hard it is, you wouldn’t be so reckless with your noises at two in the morning!”

For the break of a second, you had hoped that you could possibly hold a normal conversation with Jaehyun. That he wasn’t that much of a prick, that you could explain yourself and he would understand your standpoint. But he was nothing other than your expected player, and you had had enough of them during your own time in university.

You then fled to the very front of the crowd right by the lobby without Jaehyun following you, and luckily, not much later, the firefighters declared the building safe. The alarm had been set off on the fourth floor by the partying tenant and his guests who had indeed ignored the rules and smoked inside.

You hurried inside along with the other residents, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to linger around long enough until you weighed yourself in safety from Jaehyun’s presence. 

You only returned much later to your apartment than all the others and were back in bed by 4am without having to face your next-door-neighbor again. Too late to get enough sleep still after all.

_____

“We are very pleased with your answers so far, miss.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

You bowed in your seat, all the weight from the past days getting lifted off your shoulders. Despite the night before being a total chaos and you running on three hours of sleep only, you had made it on time to the interview and had even been able to revise everything during your commute.

Screw Jaehyun, you were great on your own.

“But there is one thing we’re concerned about,” the director said.

As you looked up, you perceived how nervously he was fidgeting in his seat as were the other board members, throwing some meaningful glances at each other. You knew it had been too easy until now. A woman in her late twenties who had only been teaching for three years overall, becoming a homeroom teacher at this prestigious kindergarten that quickly? There was always a catch.

“We’re concerned the students’ parents might not be content with our choice if we decide to put you in that position.”

“What could they be discontent about?” you asked as the director showed reluctance to continue. “I have my degrees, the experience, as well as the homeroom teacher’s and the kindergarten principal’s recommendation letters. With all respect, I am very qualified for this position, sir.”

“We are not concerned about your qualifications, miss.” He paused. “But about your living circumstances.”

You raised a brow. “My… living circumstances?”

“You’re a young woman living alone, who’s also unmarried,” a board member then raised his voice to take the pressure off the director. For sure, they had talked about this in private before. This felt like an ambush. “This is not something that is likely to be accepted among the childrens’ parents as they put great value in traditional family arrangements. As you know, it’s one of the pillars our schools are based on: tradition.”

You scoffed inwardly, but remained expressionless on the outside. Luckily, you knew how to deal with ambushes. You had so much to say about what they viewed as traditional family arrangements, but you loved it here and didn’t want to lose the job on the spot, so you kept your lips sealed and responded as politely as possible,

“I don’t know why my living arrangements would be any parents’ concern. If I can afford a nice apartment close to the kindergarten where I spend many hours preparing everything for their children to receive the absolute best education, shouldn’t that speak for my living arrangement? I also put great value on tradition. Just because I’m not married yet, doesn’t mean I never want to or won’t get married one day. Everyone has their own timeline and this should not block my career.”

“We’re aware about that, miss. But as you might also know, the parents have a fundamental right of co-determination in our schools.”

“Because since it’s a private institution, they finance everything,” you wanted to interrupt, but kept that sentence to yourself only. Instead, you said, “I dedicate all my time and passion to cater to their children. I am one of the firsts to enter and leave the kindergarten, even working more from home. I volunteer to teach on the weekends and during semester breaks. Does this not count more than the fact that I’m an unmarried woman who’s living alone?”

You were pushing boundaries by demanding an answer, you knew that, but it was nothing very reputable board members couldn’t rationally reply to. The fact that they didn’t, only proved that you were right and they were mere cowards under the invisible whiplash of wealthy parents. Without them and their money, their schools’ reputation wouldn’t be where it was now.

“We can’t change the parents’ opinions, miss,” the director eventually spoke up, retreating into a defending mode and putting the blame entirely on the parents instead of standing up for you, an assistant he had approved of hiring two years ago. Again, such cowards. “We will forward your documents and records to them, but that means a background check as well. And, if I may be frank, I can tell that you’re going to get ruled out solely for that reason.”

“Then change it,” you interrupted him. “Change my status to engaged. This is what they want, right?”

“Miss… we cannot counterfeit your documents.”

“They won’t be counterfeited, because it’s true,” you said with a confident voice. “I wanted to keep my private life private, at least until I get officially married. But I have no choice now to announce it before I actually wanted to. Yes, I am engaged and we’re going to get married soon.”

All the board members seemed to be taken aback by your sudden confessions. Perhaps, their reaction was genuine. Perhaps, they also knew you were lying. But what proof would they have to actually ascribe this lie to you? They threw meaningful gazes at each other again, unsure of what to make of this change in the situation. 

“Very well, miss.” The director eventually spoke up and nodded. “I will mention this in your documents and you can hand in a copy of your marriage certificate later when the papers are through.”

“But is this enough time, sir? It has to be decided within two months, the principal told me. I don’t know whether it will be enough time since the engagement is still new and we haven’t set a fixed date yet.”

“That’s true. If you want to convince the parents of your skills and background, I would recommend you to organize the school festival together with them. Volunteer for an activity in which your fiancé can participate as well and show them what a great couple you are. When they’re convinced, the paperwork will only be formalities.”

You swore you saw one corner of his lip tug up, either in malicious glee or in pure relief. Did he know?

“I understand, sir.” You bowed deeply. “Thank you very much.”

“And one last thing… You can start wearing your engagement ring from now if you don’t want to make a huge announcement. It’s more convincing.”

Oh, he knew. But he couldn’t care less as long as you didn’t get him in hot waters.

You nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”

On your way home, you stopped by a jeweler and picked out a nice, but cheap ring, a replica of your own dream ring, just beautiful and sparkly enough to get this lie through.

____

You had dedicated your entire life to this kindergarten, not only neglecting your family along the way, but also your friends. 

In fact you hadn’t talked or even answered your friends in months. You didn’t know what they were up to nowadays except for what they were giving away through status updates in your texting app. You scrolled through your contacts in the messenger, but sighed whenever one of the rare male names popped up. Some of them were married already, two had children.

They had all been your friends in university, but you hadn’t talked to any of them in an embarrassingly long time, so there was no one you could ask. How awkward must that be for someone to suddenly get a message about going along with a fake engagement from an old classmate they hadn’t seen in years?

“I’m so screwed!” you groaned and stretched out in your bed, throwing your phone aside. “Oh god, why!”

Perhaps, it was time to look for a new job, even though you loved the children and Shi-A kindergarten was the best reference for your CV. There was no coming back from all your lies anyway. Until now, you couldn’t quite grasp what had brought you to tell them what they wanted to hear. You should have just accepted their answer and moved on. Why did you have to be so impulsive at times, needing to get what you wanted right away?

People did separate before their wedding, that was possible, so there was a way out after all. You could stay an assistant teacher for several more years, there was nothing wrong with it. But the shame and pity you would need to deal with afterwards… 

The next moment, you sat up, your train of thoughts getting interrupted by the door bell, and the person behind the entrance was someone you hadn’t expected that day as he had never come over before.

“My shoes.”

“Huh?”

“My shoes.” A barefooted, messy blond-haired Jaehyun pointed at the shoe rack behind you. “You still have them.”

“Ah, right.” You quickly grabbed them and dropped the pair in front of his naked feet. “Here.”

But Jaehyun didn’t slip in right away. Instead, he questioned, “How did it go?”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Did what go?”

“The interview.”

You growled and your tongue loosened over the newly awakened stress, “Apparently, they don’t want a young, unmarried woman, who’s also living alone, teaching their children, so it did not go very well. It went all downhill when I said that I was going to get married soon to save my promotion. They invited my fake fiancé to the kindergarten to help out at the festival so that the parents get a chance to bond with him.”

“So you’re getting married?” He sounded as perplexed as the board members. Why was it such a big deal to imagine you getting married anyway?

“No! I’m not! That’s the catch. Now I have to get a fake fiancé from somewhere.”

“Hm. So you lied.”

“A bit.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like a bit of lying in my book.”

“I know, okay? Thanks for pointing it out.”

You didn’t know why you had told him all that. Perhaps, among the path you had chosen for yourself, you had lost all your friends and now had no one you could talk to whenever you faced a problem. He was just there, at the right moment.

“Really sucks for you.” Jaehyun shrugged and slipped into his shoes. He then turned around and disappeared back into his apartment.

You could have also talked to a wall.

____

“You never told me that you were engaged! And what an amazing ring with such a big diamond!” Your homeroom teacher jumped up and down in excitement as you two made your way to the entrance gate in the late evening at the same time as club activities ended. “I didn't even know you had a boyfriend! All this time you were keeping it a secret!”

“It has spread quite fast, hasn’t it?” you laughed out shyly.

“Totally! Is he going to help out during the school festival? My theater class still needs volunteers and your fiancé can join as well.”

“Sure,” you lied. “I can’t promise anything for him though, because he’s so busy, but he’ll try.”

“Has he ever been here though?” she asked. “Have we ever seen him?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Then who’s that?”

“Who’s what?”

She stopped in her tracks and pointed at the entrance gate. “The dark haired man standing there who clearly doesn’t look like he’s here to pick up a child since he’s only staring at you.”

Shifting your head, you spotted your neighbor standing right by the gate. You had barely recognized him, because the light blond hair was gone and now dyed dark. No way! What was he doing here? And how was he looking?

“It’s him, isn’t it? Hello!”

“Hey!” You grabbed her arm and pulled it down. “It’s just… he’s an introvert. Wait here, please.”

With hurried steps, you approached Jaehyun who didn’t break eye contact along the way. Surprisingly, he was dressed business casual today, in a pair of slacks and a button up. In combination with his new hair color and the strands neatly combed aside, he looked… decently handsome. It was not like he hadn’t been attractive before, that was a thought you had always tried to push away. But now it was like a fact you couldn’t run away from any longer.

You wondered whether there was a reason. Maybe, he had a date set for later. Good for him to take the women finally out and not always straight to home. Good for him to have finally found a woman who didn’t put up with his former appearance.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him without a greeting. “This is my workplace, you can’t just appear out of nowhere!” Your gaze scanned the environment and you could tell that you two had already caught a few parents’ attention, so your expression softened. “What is it?”

“I locked myself out of my apartment,” he explained. “I kind of typed the code wrong into the system and cannot get inside anymore. So I need to open the door from the inside.”

“And how is that exactly my problem?”

“I need to crawl out of your window to get into my apartment since I’ve left it open anyway.”

You frowned. “Are you nuts? Just go to the lobby and let them call the landlord!”

“There was no one there.”

“There is always someone there!”

He heaved up his shoulders. “Maybe an emergency.”

“Then use your phone!”

“I left it in my room.”

“And that’s why you came all the way here instead of asking another neighbor?”

“I thought since I’m locked out anyway, I can just come here instead of waiting. I knew where the kindergarten was located because of an envelope that had once found its way into my mailbox by accident. And I didn’t know whether you’d return directly after finishing classes or whether you’d have a date with your imaginary fiancé.” He suppressed a chuckle. “Or other imaginary friends.”

“You find that funny, right?” you chided. “But this is the job of my life. This is my life.”

“Alright.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “Can we just go home then?”

“Yeah, let me just…”

“Excuse me, you’re her fiancé, right?” Your homeroom teacher had suddenly popped up next to you, apparently too excited to be kept waiting around. “I’m sorry to butt in, but I’m so happy to finally meet you, because none of us have known about you until today! She’s so secretive!”

Perhaps, because there was absolutely nothing you could tell about your boring life. And even if, Jaehyun surely was not included! You wanted to clear up this misunderstanding when suddenly, you realized that this was your only chance to go with your lie.

He was a man. 

And he was here. 

You had no other option.

There would not be another chance this easy.

You should thank the heavens that today was the day he had decided to leave his bleached hair and joggers at home.

“That’s true!” you then declared and linked arms with Jaehyun. “He came here today to pick me up since I’ve already come forward with the truth. I’m sorry that I haven’t introduced you sooner. This is Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jeong!”

You pinched his arm and felt how he sucked in a rush of air. Given he knew the context, he understood. You only prayed to the heavens again that he would just go with it. The logistics of this all, you would figure out only later.

“Nice to meet you too! I’ve already heard so much about you,” Jaehyun greeted back politely.

You didn’t believe your ears. Even if you had hoped so, you hadn’t actually thought that he would play your imaginary fiancé so well from the spot. 

“I already suggested that you volunteer in my theater group for the school festival, but she said you’re always so busy. Nonetheless, I still hope for you to step by every now and then, or at least come by on the day of the festival itself. That would be awesome as many of the teachers’ families and the childrens’ families are also visiting. It’s a chance to get to know each other.”

Jaehyun smiled broadly. “Of course I will help out as well, that’s a given. I’ll make time, no worries.”

“Such a polite and kind man!” Your homeroom teacher beamed at you. “Where have you been hiding him all this time?”

That was a question you were asking yourself now as well. 

____

“Nice furniture,” Jaehyun commented when you walked into your apartment. “But a bit too tacky for my taste.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my interior. I still don’t know why you just didn’t refer to the lobbyist who’s already back by now.” 

“Calling the landlord and setting a new code is just too much hassle and takes up too much time. This way, it’s quicker.”

You opened the window in your bedroom and dragged Jaehyun across the carpet by his arm. “Then, get out.”

“When should I be ready?” he asked instead and turned to you.

“Be ready for what?” You blinked in puzzlement.

“The theater activity.”

“There is no way I’m going to let you join me in school!” you quickly defied him. “You’re… loud, rude and reckless! Only this one time was enough, there were enough witnesses to prove your existence.”

Jaehyun cleared his throat. “In your teacher’s words, I’m a very polite and kind man.”

“Only to authorities, apparently.”

“I can be very nice!”

“But not to me.”

“You’ve never given me a reason to be nice to you.”

You halted. “And the women you throw out every morning? You’re not nice to them either.”

“That’s a whole other story. I only throw out the rude ones, sometimes they get breakfast.”

You snorted when he grinned. “What’s differentiating me from them?” 

“They’re an obligation. You’re a choice.”

“So you’ve chosen to be mean to me?”

“No.” Jaehyun climbed on the window sill. “I’ve chosen to act according to what you’re giving me. Have you ever been nice to me at all? All you’ve ever done was hammering against my wall and ignoring me whenever our paths cross. That’s not very nice. Today, I’ve chosen to do something nice for you. Can I expect the same from you? I’m not quite sure.”

And off he went, out of the window, leaving you behind with much food for thought over what had happened since you had moved in. With slow steps, you returned to your living room, taking a seat on the couch. You stared into nothingness, pondering over Jaehyun’s words thoroughly. 

What did you know about him, actually? Not very much, if anything at all. Where you had spoken to your other neighbors almost in an instant upon moving in, you had never given Jaehyun a chance to properly introduce himself. You had quickly written him off as a player who you didn’t want to get involved with. What could you have in common anyway since he was so much younger?

But as a preschool teacher, you knew how dangerous it was to hold such prejudices towards people you didn’t know. This wasn’t your philosophy. 

So two hours later, you stood in front of Jaehyun’s door. It was past 9pm already, but you had to do the deeds today, otherwise you were afraid that all courage would leave your body by the end of the day.

“What is it?!” Jaehyun barked, then stopped. “Oh, it’s you.”

You held out the plate in front of him, still not having gotten used to the dark hair. “Here.”

He raised his brows, looking at a simple chocolate cake. “What’s this?”

“A peace offer.”

You didn’t dare to look him in the face, but his hand finally moved and clasped around the plate, touching yours in the process. With a slight smile on his face that you encountered when you lifted your head, Jaehyun took the cake.

“Peace offer accepted. So, when’s the start?” 

You inhaled deeply. “Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there.”

“But why?” you still wanted to know. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I think there might be something you can give me in return.”

Of course, there was always a catch. “And what would that be?”

Jaehyun made a meaningful pause. “Tutoring lessons.”

You nearly laughed out loud. “I teach kindergarteners, not university students. I mean, yes I studied with the focus on elementary school, but higher education is not my forte.”

“Isn’t it the same? Teaching people, who don’t know stuff, stuff they must know?”

“I don’t even know your major, your courses! How am I supposed to help you?”

“I’ll send you my sheets beforehand and you can teach me to understand the essence of them.”

You stood there, totally flabbergasted as you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the situation yet. “And that’s all that you want?”

He nodded. “That’s all.”

“It’s not on par with what you offer to me.”

He shrugged. “For me, it is.”

You didn’t know why, but you quite didn’t believe him fully. Either he bore some ulterior motives or he was so bad in university that he was on the brink of failing his classes anyway. In regard to his lifestyle, you could very well imagine the latter. Why not hire a professional tutor then? What was the point of all this?

“Fine,” you then gave in. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow right away. I’ll send you the stuff.” 

You walked out of the door, but not before shifting around to him one last time. “Your new hair color… I like it. It suits you. Though I was used to always seeing your hair first before your face.”

“I still have to get used to it as well.”

“Why did you dye it?”

“I thought it was time for a change.” Suddenly, his gaze fell on your finger. “That’s the ring I have supposedly given you? I should know about it.”

“Princess cut, two carats. Or so it seems.” You held out your hand and looked at the piece of jewelry. “Actually, it’s my dream ring, but it’s not real, just a cheap replica. I hope nobody will notice though as they surely wear diamonds much bigger than that.”

“Women… such an enigma. I never understood why they pay so much attention to an expensive engagement ring anyway. Triple the amount of the man’s salary it should be, no?”

“First, that kind of scale is already dated. Second, I share your opinion. But…” You were about to say something very private, but you felt safe enough to do it at that moment, “I haven't grown up being able to afford nice things myself let alone getting these kinds of things gifted. So the thought of me being so important to someone to invest in valuable jewelry for me means very much.”

“I see.”

He nodded acknowledgement and let you leave.

____

According to his papers, Jaehyun was studying business management. 

You didn’t know much about the subject, but the papers were quite clear with what they wanted their students to grasp, and as it was indeed your job to teach even preschoolers exactly how to study the material, you didn’t see a reason as to why it would be different with your grown up neighbor.

Of course, upon entering his apartment for the first time, you had also scanned the entire space that was exactly like yours in the layout, only mirrored. Against your expectations, he was furnished and equipped quite comfortably and modernly, not too spartanic as you had expected from a young man his age. The door to his bedroom was closed though. Too bad, you were curious about that one the most.

“That’s quite a delicious cake!” Jaehyun praised as he sat down next to you at the table, the plate with the slice in front of him. “You’re a good baker, I have to admit.”

“Having to participate in many kindergarten events, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

“Say.” Jaehyun put his fork back on the plate and leaned in to you. “Why do you love this job so much? Aren’t you annoyed by the children? The parents? The other teachers? Having people around you all day long?”

You flipped through his papers, marking the passages you deemed worth memorizing. “Of course it gets stressful and annoying when, for example, children won’t listen, when you can’t meet the parents expectations or when the teachers put so much pressure on you. But…” A smile spread across your face that Jaehyun still encountered even though you had kept your head low. “... the reward, when they all succeed in the end, is all worth it.”

“Hm.” He kept staring at you, and his unwavering gaze made you flush a little. “Sounds legit for someone like you who loves her job so much, she’s willing to put up with a fake engagement.”

“I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am now,” you explained to him with a calm voice. “I don’t want to throw everything away because I’m an unmarried woman.”

“What’s so bad about being an unmarried woman?”

You hadn’t expected such a question. “Nothing, honestly. It just doesn’t meet their norm.”

“And when it’s all done… What will you tell them? That your fiancé left you at the altar? That you broke off your engagement?”

“By then, if you play along, I will have the job already. And yes, then I will then tell them exactly that. That we’ve broken up.”

“I see.” Jaehyun leaned back, giving you room to breathe again. “Well, if you think so.”

“Can we start with your studies now?” you asked. “We’re not only here for you to question me.”

“Of course.” Jaehyun took the fork in his hand again and broke a piece off the cake that he then led to his mouth. “Go on, what should I know?”

In the two hours you were teaching your neighbor, you came to the conclusion that there was no difference between being his teacher or one to your kindergarteners. Even though Jaehyun was a university student, you could maintain your teaching methods despite having a different subject at the base.

“I’m done!” Jaehyun raised his arms and stretched himself. “Finally!”

You closed the books and jumped out of your seat. “It’s almost 11pm already! I need to go, catching up on some sleep.”

“Ah yeah, my visitor will also be here soon, so you better hurry.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you please stay a bit calmer tonight for me to sleep in peace?”

He winked jokingly. “As I said, you can always join. But today, I will, as a thank you for your tutoring lesson.”

He didn’t keep his promise.

____

“Miss, how do I look?” A little boy from the parallel group appeared next to you, dressed as an apple tree. His expression radiated insecurity, but you remembered very well how pumped he had been about finally landing a role in the play. “The others are all laughing at me.”

You crouched down and took the boy’s tiny hands into yours. It was Wednesday, so this was another evening dedicated to the preparations for the festival. His costume consisted of brown pants and a green shirt. He also wore a headgear that framed his face from which apples made of polystyrene were hanging. 

“You look amazing! Don’t listen to others. Your role is very much important. And you know why the apple tree is so important in the play?” He shook his head and you squeezed his tiny fingers in encouragement. “Because you’re the only apple tree. Without you, we wouldn’t even be able to perform. So regardless of what the others say, remember that you’re one of a kind, that you’re unique and very important. Okay?”

Now, a bright smile spread across his face. “Okay!”

You arose from your crouching position and turned around to let your eyes scan the hall. Then, you spotted your neighbor for whom you had waited already. And he was not alone.

With fast steps, you descended from the stage and nervously approached Jaehyun who was currently having a seemingly nice chat with a parent. And not any parent as a matter of fact. In front of him stood Shi-A schools’ main investor, and you hadn’t prepared him for that kind of situation! 

You had aged Jaehyun up to one year your senior and had also come up with a background story both of you agreed on was believable enough. Of course Jaehyun couldn’t be a student in front of these successful parents who were all directors, doctors and builders. You had first suggested for him to be a lawyer, but, in his words, Jaehyun didn’t want to be “such a stuck up suit-wearer”.

“Ah, miss, there you are!” Mr. Nam, Soah’s father and the owner of several bank branches across the country, welcomed you as you joined their chat and came to a halt next to Jaehyun. “I’m so disappointed that I haven’t gotten to meet your fiancé much sooner! Such a charming and smart man!”

You looked at Jaehyun who had dressed up in suit trousers and a white button up again, his hair neatly slicked back with only one strand falling into his face. His entire presence radiated a successful businessman, inferior to no one. You were quite impressed, he looked very much believable. And insanely handsome.

“Mr. Nam, it’s so good to see you! Yes, my fiancé is usually really busy, so I’m glad he was able to make time today to help out with the preparations for the festival,” you explained. 

“Of course.” Mr. Nam nodded. “I was only able to come today, because I canceled a meeting to see my precious Soah. I know what it’s like to run a business and having to miss important school events, so I talked about that with your fiancé. I didn’t know he was a COO!”

You tried to hide your surprise and forced a smile. Jaehyun had chosen to be involved in running a business according to his major, the age old enough to be COO, but not CEO yet. You just hoped he knew what he was talking about with the professionals, being so close to graduation.

“You know, honey,” Jaehyun addressed you, and it made your skin crawl how he used this pet name for lovers, “Mr. Nam invited us to his getaway in the countryside in two weeks.”

The middle-aged man nodded. “Mr. Jeong and I have instantly bonded over our occupations and our weekend getaway will help him form connections. Several friends of mine as well as parents of this school and other business partners will be present too. Your fiancé is still fairly young and new to the business as a COO, but I’m always pleased to show the next generation their way. It will be a great chance for you both.”

You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Two years of working at this school and no parent had ever invited you anywhere. But it had taken Jaehyun literally five minutes only to get invited on a weekend getaway with the main investor! 

This was such a big chance for you to strengthen the bond with the most influential parents and investors, and show them that you were indeed capable of doing this job right - with and certainly without a man. 

“Of course we will join, Mr. Nam!” You bowed to him. “We’re very grateful to have received this invitation.”

Mr. Nam went on with his duty of helping his daughter and Jaehyun followed you to the stage. 

“You know that it’s not going to be easy during that weekend, right?” 

“Yes, but I need this weekend. If they see that I fit in, they will acknowledge me as a capable teacher, even without a marriage certificate. This will be the best opportunity to win their favor and then play the broken hearted teacher who they will all sympathize with after my breakup. Only Mr. and Mrs. Nam’s approval is enough, and every other parent will do as they say, that’s how powerful they are.”

“And what does being a capable teacher have anything to do with you being married or not?” he genuinely wanted to know. “You said there was nothing wrong with you being an unmarried woman living alone.”

You stopped in your tracks and smiled crookedly. “Apparently, they pay much attention to tradition, I told you already. And an unmarried woman living alone does not live up to their expectations since they’re very conservative. But I’m sure I can prove to them-”

“This is bullshit and you know it,” Jaehyun interrupted you dryly. “If I were a parent, I would favor an unmarried woman, who is a great person herself, to teach my children rather than someone trapped in a loveless marriage, who passes on her misery to her students.”

“You’re not wrong, but what can I do? It is how it is.” You shrugged. “Are you saying you’re not with me in this now?”

“Of course I still am if you also still want it. But as I said, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Why? It’s going smooth now as well.”

Jaehyun cleared his throat. “Well… we truly have to act like a couple, you know, since it’s a private setting. With all the pet names, skinship and stuff, honey.”

Again, you cringed. “Shut up, Jaehyun, it’s not that deep.”

He laughed. “If you say so…”

You two approached the stage, stepped on the platform and immediately had a group of boys run towards you. 

“Mister, you’re so tall,” one of them said to Jaehyun. “Can you help us hang these lights up please?”

“Of course!” Jaehyun agreed with genuine joy. “Where do you need them?”

“Over there, please!”

He rolled his white sleeves up his elbows in preparation. With much caution, Jaehyun took the string of lights they had been holding out to him into his own hands and attached them shortly over his head to the background of the stage.

“You wanna do this yourselves?” he then asked the boys as they came over to him with another chain of colorful lights.

“But we’re too short!”

“Not anymore now!” Jaehyun got on his knees and lifted one of the boys up in the air. “You’re tall enough now?”

The boy giggled and pumped his fist. “A bit higher, mister, please!”

“Alright!”

Jaehyun laughed along with them and stretched out his arms until the boy could reach the marked spots in the background. The child was effortlessly able to attach the lights onto where they belonged before Jaehyun set him back on the floor.

“Thank you, mister!”

You watched the scene with a smile, unknowingly. The fact that Jaehyun was this good with children had been a secret to you too, until now.

Perhaps, he wasn’t always your prick of a neighbor and there was much more to him than his nocturnal activities. Somehow, this piqued your interest and you wanted to get to know more about him in all sincerity.

____

“So, you got the gist of it, right?”

Jaehyun nodded. “Enough for me to not flunk the exam this time again.”

“Alright.” You snapped the book shut and stretched yourself. “I’ll get going now then.”

“Are you hungry?” Jaehyun asked instead when you made a move to raise from the chair. “It’s past 9 already and I’m hella hungry.”

“Well… I haven’t eaten anything since lunch and just wanted to go to the convenience store to grab a quick bite.”

“I’ll prepare dinner.”

It was a subtle invitation, and although he didn’t speak it out, he wanted you to stay for a reason you didn’t quite understand yet. Reluctant at first, you wiggled in your seat, unsure of what to do. But Jaehyun didn’t leave you much room for decision as he already opened the refrigerator and took out a sealed pack of chicken.

“Should I help you?” you asked and jumped up, eager to put this awkwardness behind you.

“Yeah, you can cut the vegetables. They’re in the fridge, I just put them in there just in case, so they’re not frozen yet.”

“Okay.”

When you opened the fridge, you spotted the cake you had given to him, only halfway eaten and frozen. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, and surely not openly, but it kind of hurt you. Yet, you couldn’t bite down a snarky remark.

“You could have just told me the truth instead of lying… that it doesn’t taste good.” 

Jaehyun looked up from the chicken he was currently washing, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Your disappointment broke through your facade eventually. “The cake. It’s still there.”

With careful deliberation, Jaehyun put the meat on a cutting board and took out a knife. “Because I don’t want to share it.”

“What?”

“I can’t eat too much sugar at once. So one, at the most two, slices of cake a day does suffice. I used to grind my teeth in my sleep, so they’re very sensitive now and hurt when I eat too many sweets at once.”

“Oh, it’s like that.” You paused. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of this problem…” Again, it dawned on you that you knew absolutely nothing about Jaehyun. If you had known he wasn’t able to eat an entire cake within a few days, then you would have brought something else. “But you’ve had enough visitors over the past couple of days to share it with them, you don’t have to trudge through eating it to the last bites, you know.”

“But I want to!” he then defended himself and turned around to you. “I want to eat it all by myself, I don’t want to share it with anyone else what you’ve made only for me.”

This was not a joke, nor a mocking comment. He meant it in all honesty. You just had no idea why. 

“Okay.” You closed the door to the fridge with the vegetables in your hand now. “I’ll help you cut the ingredients. But we should probably hurry before your visitor comes, right?”

You didn’t want to sound mean by mentioning this topic, but the syllables fell from your lips much sharper than you had intended. It was none of your business anyway, but as you took the leek into your hands, you realized that you couldn’t help but to be curious about his lifestyle.

He shrugged. “It’s still a few hours, we’ll be fine.”

“But every night a different woman? Why don’t you get a girlfriend? Don’t misunderstand me, I just genuinely want to know.”

Jaehyun didn’t even bother thinking about coming up with a morally right answer. “I did have a girlfriend.”

“And?”

“It sucked.”

“Then you just didn’t have the right girlfriend for you.”

“We were together for three years,” he clarified and proceeded to cut the chicken while you did the same with the leek.

“Did she cheat on you?” 

“No. She stole all my money, lied about it and disappeared from my life from one day to another.”

“Holy-” You swallowed the rest of the sentence, your cutting hand now pausing too.

“My parents weren’t very fond of her from the beginning and told me to cut ties with her as she wasn’t the ideal daughter-in-law for them anyway. But I was a rebel and wanted to date whoever I wanted just because I could. She only used me as a money machine, and everyone knew - except for me as I was in denial. The me back then was so blind and so in love. I did everything for her, and in the end, I was left alone, robbed of my money and unfavored by my parents.”

You didn’t know what to say as you hadn’t expected such an honest conversation with him. The tough and cool Jaehyun had been through some miserable phases indeed, and you somehow regretted not having asked about it much earlier. 

“Jaehy-”

“It’s okay.” He brushed it off and put the sliced chicken in the pan. “Not all women are bad, I just need to pick better. Next time, I need to be a hundred percent sure she’ll be my future wife.”

“It’s odd hearing these words from a university student.”

“Why?”

“Nowadays, from my own dating experience, I can say that marriage or children are not one of the top priorities for many people wanting to enter a relationship anymore. They struggle a lot with these nowadays for so many reasons, most of which are valid, like money and economics. So I’m positively surprised to hear you’re not one of them and actually want to marry out of love.”

“Do you want to marry one day?”

This question took you aback. “Yes, for the same reason as you, actually.”

“Mhhmm. And do you believe there is someone out there for you?”

“Yes, I honestly believe it. When there is you and me already, here in this very room, then there are also more people with the same mindset out there in the world. I’m sure, there are many women who have so much genuine love to give to a man like you, even when you’re still so young.”

“A man like me?” You now made eye contact. “What do you mean a man like me?”

You averted your eyes again as you started to list while finishing cutting the leek, “You’re caring, because when we were standing outside on the night of the fire alarm, you noticed that my feet were freezing. You gave me your shoes to wear even when that meant you needed to freeze yourself. And I was so mean to you that night. You’re helpful, because you come to every single festival preparation date and support everyone wherever they need a helping hand, kids and adults equally. And not a single complaint comes out of your mouth. You’re intelligent, because even if you need my help to understand a subject, you’re quick to solve every answer in your very own way. On top of that, you volunteered to play the part of my fake financé. And to this day, I still don’t know why.”

Jaehyun was about to turn on the stove, but then stalled, looking at you partially confused, partially what you somewhat interpreted as… touched? His features then softened and he was moved by your words, you clearly saw it in his eyes.  

“Look at you, Miss Neighbor. Not knowing what you’re blabbering again.”

You cracked a smile and put the leek in the pan with the chicken. “It’s just the truth.”

“I help you out, because you’re a good person who is being treated unfairly. Is that so hard to believe?”

After how you had acted in his presence before all this? It was very hard to believe. 

“So you think it’s better if I stay in my old position and choose the conventional, non-scheming way?”

“I’ve seen you around the children. I think you’re too good of a teacher to waste your potential on insufferable parents who are too stuck up to question their own values.”

After this short time only, he had seen through this all, and was holding such a high opinion of you?

As you continued preparing dinner right here in room 803, of which you had never imagined setting a foot in, you came to the truthful realization that your neighbor was not resentful towards your behavior from the beginning anymore. 

Then, you started to forgive yourself as well. 

This dinner had been an invitation to do exactly that, and you were grateful for it.

____

“My, my… hello, miss!”

You turned around and encountered Mrs. Nam, Soah’s mother, approaching in your direction. Another Wednesday meant another preparation and practice evening for the kindergarten festival that was set to take place this weekend.

“Hello, Mrs. Nam.” You bowed deeply. “What brings you here?” 

“I heard my husband talk about your fiancé so fondly last time, I wanted to meet him personally since you’re going to accompany us to the getaway next weekend, right?”

“Yes, we feel so honored. What a pleasure!”

A lie. You hated this woman to the core. She didn’t care much about Soah, but more about her reputation and appearance. Yet, she was the main investor’s wife and thus one of the people you had to convince of your capability to be her daughter’s homeroom teacher.

“I'm going to introduce myself,” she declared and strutted away.

Jaehyun was currently sitting in a circle with several kids, helping them prepare their costumes with a glue gun. The kids were talking excitedly to him, interacting with him and laughing along with him. The scene warmed your heart and you smiled the longer you observed them. Jaehyun was so popular and got along so well with them. 

“Miss!” Little Soah stood in front of you. “Look what Mr. Jeong made for me!” She raised her arms and presented a golden crown to you, adorned with pink plastic jewels. “He helped me glue the jewels on. Now I’m a true princess, right?”

You smiled and patted her back. “Yes, you truly are! Here, let me help you put it on.” You got on your knees and settled the crown on her head. “All good now.”

“Miss, when you’ve married Mr. Jeong, are you Mrs. Jeong then? Should we then address you as such?”

“I guess so,” you laughed. 

You weren’t worried about the rest, because you were going to break this fake engagement off anyway. But somehow, her question had caused a lump to build in your throat that you weren’t able to swallow down. 

“Then I’m happy,” Soah beamed through her missing front teeth, “because I like him very much!”

With jumpy steps, she hopped away in her crown as your own expression fell. That was something you hadn’t thought about before. The fact that the kids could get attached to Jaehyun. Or the other way around. Eventually, you would need to break their world apart and rob them of a person they had gotten emotionally attached to. But that was life, wasn’t it?

“Everything alright?” You got stunned as Jaehyun suddenly appeared next to you. “You’ve been standing like this, totally motionless, for a solid minute.”

You nodded. “Have you talked to Soah’s mother?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “A very annoying woman.”

“Right?!” you whispered to him with a giggle, relieved he shared your opinion. 

“And she totally has the hots for me,” Jaehyun mentioned almost nonchalantly as he made his way to the stage.

“Wha-” You quickly fell into his step. “What are you saying?!”

“That she wants to rip off my clothes and take me right here and now. That she wants me to bend her over one of these small tables and make her scream in pleasure. That she-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you stopped him and feigned choking noises. “She favors you. It’s nothing surprising, honestly. She apparently has a weak spot for younger men and even teachers here. It’s an open secret she stays married to Mr. Nam for the sake of their business, and it’s also an open secret that some men here, teachers and parents equally, have fallen for her charms already.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Charms… Exactly.”

At the same moment, you lifted your finger. “Don’t you dare! I swear, Jaehyun, you’re involved here to help me with my promotion, not cause havoc. Stay as far away from my childrens’ parents as possible!”

Jaehyun stopped in his tracks, lifting his hands in defense. “I know, I know. I get it. Don’t worry! She’s annoying and not my type either way.”

“Because she’s much older than you, hm?” 

Somehow, this assumption put you at ease, but not fully. Because, in the end, you were five years older than Jaehyun as well. You weren’t quite able to wrap your head around the reason as to why this even bothered you in the first place. 

“No,” he denied. “I don’t mind age. Neither do I mind education or status, despite my parents saying so. I embrace smartness, wittiness and the gift to enrich my life.”

“And the girls you bring home are none of that?” It was supposed to be a tease, but your curiosity for an answer dominated the entire question. 

He laughed, scarcely and briefly. “Hell, no!”

“I see.” This was a response you could live with very well, along with the statement that he didn’t mind an age gap. 

“But this Mrs. Nam…” Jaehyun lowered his voice. “She’s neither of those qualities that I’m looking for. She’s only a shell with no personality who’s been living in her husband’s shadow and seeks quick affairs for validation.”

You were quite flabbergasted, because his judgment seemed totally on point. “Well, you nailed it.”

He smiled smugly. “You said I’m smart after all.”

You playfully slapped his arm. “This again?” 

“Nevertheless,” Jaehyun continued, “you’re all that, Miss Neighbor.”

You frowned. “All what?”

“Smart. Witty. And an enrichment to my life.”

With these words, he jumped on the stage where the children already came running towards him.

And you were left behind with hot ears and a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

____

As you had expected, the school festival turned out to be a success, and with as many parents attending as possible, you had been able to introduce Jaehyun as your fiancé to everyone who was interested in finding out who that young man was, supporting and playing with their children.

It had warmed your heart, seeing how they all got along so well with Jaehyun that, the further the day had progressed, the warmth had turned into a stingy ache. The sheer fear that probably, you would never find someone like him again to replace the hole that he would most certainly leave when you had to call this entire thing off.

After all, this was only a pretense. 

Wasn’t it?

____

The weekend after the festival, you drove all the way out to the countryside to spend two days in the Nam family’s second residence. Jaehyun had apparently rented a car and he was a naturally good driver, you had to admit. 

The family’s holiday home consisted of three big houses in different sizes that were all connected to each other and formed a huge residence, surrounded by many acres of nature. There was a tennis court, a pool, a festive terrace, and even a few horses grazing in the fields. The residence overall looked both spectacular and intimidating to you, who had never set foot into such a habitation ever before.

“This is your room,” the housekeeper announced to you and Jaehyun when she opened the door.

You swallowed, hard. This was a fact that had totally passed by you. The room where you were supposed to spend the night only had one bed. No couch, no canopy, nothing else to lie down on except for this one bed. 

“Thank you very much,” Jaehyun said gratefully, not having lost a single ounce of his composure in comparison to you who was still too stunned to speak. 

He led you into the room and closed the door behind him, dropping your two bags on the floor. It was a nice room that, apart from the queen size bed, had a balcony and huge windows where the sunlight was able to stream in. 

“You brought your tennis clothes, right?” Jaehyun asked, and at that moment, you were quite relieved he hadn’t encountered your sleeping arrangement problems yet or chose to purposefully ignore it. Either of it was fine for you as for now, there was another hurdle to master before this day would end: lunch, followed by tennis with the Nams, and then dinner.

“Yes, I just haven’t expected that you would be able to play.”

He snickered. “Oh, you would be surprised about many of my skills.”

“Ew, if this means what I think it means, stop it!”

“Come on, did you always have this huge stick up your-”

You lifted one finger to silent him. “Don’t say it out loud!”

“Fine,” Jaehyun gave in and shrugged. “But try loosening up every now and then, even when you’re in teacher mode. I tell you, life is much more fun like that.”

You decided to ignore him and circled the bed that was somehow ironically the center of the entire room. You then seated yourself on one side of the bed where you dumped your bag on your lap and started unpacking. 

“I’m sleeping on this side and you on the other. You're gonna stay as far away from me as possible and we’ll build a wall of pillows. If I catch you breaking through the barrier at any point during the night, I’ll kick you.”

“I promise, I won’t touch you.” And then, he added sneakily, “Unless you say so, of course.”

Luckily, he couldn’t see your face as you arose and put your clothes in the closet. 

Your cheeks were so heated.

____

Lunch went by fast with you not having to interact with the Nams much as you had eaten at another table. But you were able to connect with a few other parents whose favor you had won very easily - mostly thanks to Jaehyun who was perfect in his role and did most of the chit chat himself. You didn’t complain, it played all too well into your cards as smalltalk wasn’t your strongest character trait anyway. 

Jaehyun nailed the late-twenties COO scheme like he was living it in reality. It was insane how well he knew about almost everyone’s work environment as though he had indeed already graduated years ago and could keep up with the other guests in regards to business talk. He seemed well-educated, eloquent and charming. He was perfect in his role.

"We’re doing well, but I feel like we could improve our international growth a bit,” one man on your table, also the parent of a child enrolled in your kindergarten, pointed out. “The European market is proving to be a bit more complex than anticipated."

"I hear you,” Jaehyun acknowledged. “Expanding into Europe can definitely be tricky. It’s a diverse market with varying regulatory environments, consumer preferences, and competitive landscapes.”

“What’s been your experience so far in terms of the challenges?” the man asked back. “Have you already tested the waters?”

You inhaled sharply. How was Jaehyun supposed to answer that? 

“Yes, we did,” he replied almost nonchalantly though and sipped at his water glass. “Is it more about local market adaptation, or are there specific operational or regulatory hurdles that are slowing things down for you? Personally, I can tell-”

It was unbelievable. But you were not complaining and just let him do his job while you shifted your attention to the women at the table. One of them was the business man’s wife who had just asked about the European market, and thus a parent of the child attending your kindergarten as well.

“I heard that you were very popular among the children, miss,” she told you with a smile that didn’t seem quite sincere. 

Perhaps you were just paranoid, but you believed that by now, working among mischievous children for years already, you were able to tell the difference. With another two women turning their attention towards you, you felt like you had been thrown right into a shark tank, and your lifeline in the form of your fake fiancé was in no sight but caught up with the European business market. 

“I heard so too, miss,” one of the other women chimed in. “Tell us, what makes you so different from other teachers? One would guess you aren’t strict enough.”

There it was, the flash of guile that nearly simultaneously was visible in all the women’s eyes for not even the blink of a second, yet it hadn’t passed by you. You weren’t determined to let these hyenas eat you up alive, you had worked too hard to come this far just to let mean girls make you give up.

“I believe I strike the perfect balance between kindness and strictness,” you explained with a calm voice, but under the table, you were nervously kneading your sweaty fingers. “Every child knows they can always come to me, be it for struggles concerning their school experience or personal ones.”

Instantly, the eyebrows of the student’s mother raised up. “Personal struggles?” she nearly squealed, but the loudness luckily got drowned out by the heated business talk of the men at the same table. 

“Does this mean you’re asking them about personal things?” the second woman pressed the topic.

Now, you furrowed yourself. What were they on? “What I mean by it is that if my students ever encounter problems of any kind that they cannot share with anyone else at that moment, my door is always open for them, and they know it.”

“For me,” the third woman intercepted, “it sounds like you’re more of a friend than a teacher.”

“Respectfully, that’s not what I said, and I apologize if I delivered the message wrongly. But-”

“Oh.” They looked at each other meaningfully and let you become quiet before the first woman picked up the conversation again. “Are you saying we are too uneducated to get the gist of your sentences?”

You were completely flabbergasted. You had already gotten to know many parents, but always in a safe environment and in the presence of other teachers where they had never acted like this in any scenario possible. Was this how the parents treated the teachers in private? Was this the environment the children grew up in and you would need to deal with on a daily basis when you got the promotion?

While you were still in your thoughts and preparing a reply in your head that didn’t consist of any curse word, you suddenly felt a warm hand wrapping around yours under the table and giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

“What my fiancée wants to say,” Jaehyun interrupted confidently, but politely, “is that with the educational environment given nowadays, teachers are trained to be strict and rule with an iron fist. They are pressured to push their students towards the top regardless of their feelings and needs. Thus, the children feel pressured themselves and rarely have no authority person they can turn to.” You halted your breath, and the women apparently did as well as they looked at Jaehyun with shock over his provoking words. He was harshly criticizing the entire education system for which, to a huge part, the parents were responsible for as well. “Under these circumstances, they really appreciate a teacher like my fiancée, who does not only make sure that every child reaches its full potential at this young age, but she also gives them the feeling that not all teachers only care for their success, but also for their personal wellbeing. And if this is not a trait that more teachers need to have nowadays, then I don’t know what is. I think your children are very lucky to have a teacher with a strong message like my fiancée.”

The entire table had quiet down at this point to listen to Jaehyun’s words who still had not let go of your hand. He was right, to a hundred percent, but speaking these words out among these people was like an invitation to get you fired on the spot. 

“I agree with Mr. Jeong,” a female voice behind you then said, and as you shifted around, you spotted Mr. and Mrs. Nam standing right behind you. “His fiancée teaches my daughter Soah and not only does she get the best grades, but she’s also very happy with her teacher. I think we need more teachers like her.”

This was a support you had never expected of ever receiving. From them? And then, the men at your table, followed by the women, agreed with the Nams vocally. Was it really that easy, would they go with everything this married couple wanted just to stay in this circle? It was an interesting observation. 

But then, your gaze fell upon Mrs. Nam who stared at Jaehyun, and then everything fell into place. 

Well, if it helped with your promotion, then you would let her look at him as long as she wanted. 

As long as he only looked at you and held only your hand, just like now.

____

“Ouch.”

“I thought you were able to play tennis?” Jaehyun asked as he carried you up the stairs in a piggy-back. “I didn't expect you to trip and fall all within the first fifteen minutes.”

Even though you weren’t able to see his expression, you felt that he had to clearly suppress a laugh right now. “Be quiet, I don’t want to hear anything about it.”

“Ah, did someone maybe sugarcoat their skills a bit too much? To your luck, the Nams were just as shocked and cared more about your wellbeing than your lack of skills, so all’s good. I believe they found it rather endearing.”

You grumbled and lowered your head, resting it on his shoulder. Jaehyun had regularly only worn loungewear, so you had never quite made out the shape of his body. Or you had never been particularly interested in it. But now that you were being carried on his back, you couldn’t help but feel his strong muscles tense beneath your body, lifting you like you weighed nothing for him. 

It was true. You had only taken three tennis lessons and had then dropped it for the lack of time and motivation. But since this had been not too long ago, you had thought the experience would suffice. You had been so, so wrong though. Mr. and Mrs. Nam were immaculate and Jaehyun didn’t fall short on them.

Was there something he did not master?

“Who are you even?” you asked Jaehyun when you were finally through your room’s door. He placed you on the bed where he inspected the wounds on both your knees. “Honestly, Jaehyun. It’s like you’re not only blending in, you’re really… living this role.”

Jaehyun approached the door to leave again and get a first aid kit, but not without pivoting back to you one more time and saying with a meaningful and nearly reproachful tone, “You still haven’t cared enough to get to know me on a deeper level, right? All you wanted to know so far was about women, not me as a person. You’d wonder how easy it is to find information about my family online if only you know enough.”

And with that, he left you alone in your room with not only scraped and bleeding knees, but a heart that slowly started hurting nearly just as much.

It was true. You had been too busy with preparations for the upcoming events, pulling through your scheme and working towards a potential promotion, that you had not once put a single thought into Jaehyun as a person. You had wondered at times, but had never really made the effort.

Wasn’t that what he had preached about you earlier? That you were so open-minded, the children could always come to you? So why did you lack this skill when it came down to your personal life? That was probably also very much the reason you barely had friends left anymore. Too selfish, too focused on your career and only using people for the sake of your own benefit. Like Jaehyun.

But you didn’t want to continue with this behaviour anymore and eventually become like the parents here, so bigoted, condemning and toxic. You couldn’t let that happen to yourself.

So you did what Jaehyun had wanted you to do all this time: You just looked up his name online.

… And stared at him with your mouth agape when he returned to the room with the first aid kit. 

He stood by the door, unsure how to proceed. “So, you know.”

You threw your phone on the bed and folded your arms across your chest. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Well, did you ever ask?” His gaze was sharp, but he didn’t seem reproachful anymore as he had most likely caught on the deep regret reflected in your eyes. “All you ever did was assume based on what you’ve seen or heard in some cases. Assuming I was some lazy student with nothing in my mind except for women. There were enough hints given by me for you to look through this facade. But you never cared in the first place.”

That was true, but it was also part of your job. Children were more likely to never tell you what was going on in their lives, so you had to be really attentive as a teacher. Most of the time, you were right about their current feelings, especially the struggles, despite them not talking about it. 

This skill apparently didn’t apply to adults as you had gotten proven wrong several times today already. Adults were way smarter in hiding who they truly were, only revealing what they wanted others to see. Jaehyun was the perfect example.

“I’m sorry.” Your head dropped and you only heard how Jaehyun shifted in his position, followed by his footsteps approaching you. 

He then knelt in front of you and opened the first aid kit as he started talking, “The corporation is my parents’ business, I have nothing to do with it and don’t want anything to do with it.”

“All this time, I thought it was just a company that you’ve made up yourself when you talked to the businessmen during lunch.”

“Of course my position was made up, and it won’t take them too long to find out that a certain Mr. Jeong, who coincidentally holds the same last name as its CEO, is indeed not a COO, but an entirely different man.” He took out some disinfectant that he then sprayed on your hurt knees. You inhaled sharply and under much pain, but were determined not to make a sound. “I’ve grown up in this business environment, so naturally I’m very conversational in this matter if you had wondered about that. I just know a lot of business chit chat to make them keep talking, nothing that needs too much deep dive into a topic. I also took tennis classes when I was younger and the car we came here with? That’s also mine.”

You gulped. You had not even asked about the car at all. All that you had been doing was assuming and assuming and assuming. You had pegged him as a lousy student from the very beginning, and not once had it crossed your mind to ask him about anything. 

All you ever had to do was ask, and he would have replied in all honesty - just like now.

“You said you wanted nothing to do with your parents’ business,” you repeated his words when he gently patted your knees with a clean cloth. “Why?”

“Currently, I’m still under my parents’ guard and sadly also financially bound to them. I didn’t have another choice after what happened with my ex, even though I really despise my current situation. I was lucky enough that they didn’t cut off my financial support altogether, otherwise I couldn’t study at all. But at least I can live alone and thus can taste a bit of freedom and independence. They expect me to join their business after my graduation, even though I refused so many times already.”

“What do you want to do then?” You were genuinely curious now. “If not joining their business?”

“Start my own business.” He then pulled out a long string of band aid and cut respective pieces from it, two in the sizes of your injuries. “I was able to enroll in this top university with a promise to my parents that I will join them after my graduation. Hell will break loose when I come forward with the truth though, but I will pay it all back to them. That is why I’m now saving up as much money as possible to be independent after my studies. There are so many varieties of fields business management is useful for.”

Gently, Jaehyun put a bandaid on your injury, one on each side. His touch was so tender, almost feathery-light, and you shuddered comfortably. “What kind of business do you have in mind?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I will eventually find out. After my graduation, I want to travel around first and go to Europe, see a little bit of the world. And then it will all fall into place, I’m positive about that. If anything, I don’t want to be dependent on my parents anymore and follow in their footsteps. I want to be my own person, I need to be.”

“The bleached hair… the women… when you only hung around in joggers… Was that some kind of rebellion?” A glimpse into a life he had never been fully able to live out under his parents’ guard. A bit of fun.

“Let’s say I got raised very strictly by my parents, just like the children in your kindergarten, so I can very much relate.” That was why he could grasp exactly how the parents and children felt. He had grown up in this exact environment. It all made sense now. “My mother nearly fell off the chair when she saw that I’ve bleached my hair and wanted to send me to a hairdresser right away. My father stopped bothering me about joining business meetings. It worked all to my favor. It’s not that I’m not grateful that they still help me out, they just haven’t learned to respect my own wishes. Maybe one day, when I’m successful too, they’ll eventually understand.”

“So, why did you agree on doing this with me then?” you wanted to know when Jaehyun put the utensils back in the kit. “Just to practice your skills for the future? For the connection? Because I don’t believe you need that much tutoring after hearing all this. Or was it solely for fun?”

“Perhaps,” he interrupted hesitantly, “I just wanted to help my Miss Neighbor when she needed someone without asking for anything in return, because nobody ever helped me. Is that too far off when I need to answer this question again? Does it not fit your narrative?”

Nobody ever helped him? Ouch.

So people could really be selfless. People like Jaehyun.

Even though you were older, you were still able to learn so much from him.

“You don’t fit my narrative at all,” you reluctantly confessed. “But I am willing to change it.”

He lifted his head to face you and smiled in agreement. “There you go, all good now.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you too.”

“So, Europe,” you picked up the topic again, swung your legs onto the bed and leaned back into the pillows. “Which countries excite you the most?”

That afternoon, you learned that Jaehyun had never been outside of the country, which really shocked you considering how wealthy his family was. But you also learned that, as the only son of successful business people, there had never been more to his world than his parents’ own little world. They had offered to send him abroad to study, but he had declined as he had never been on his own and got cold feet. Something he deeply regretted now.

You realized that Jaehyun had been living under the pressure and expectations of his strict parents all along and was only now slowly discovering the world. The fact that he fully went out in university, additionally with another woman by his side almost every night, was a response to his upbringing. You had studied this in your major.

It was the mere acts of a boy who had only discovered freedom, as he should.

“Living on my own was already a huge step towards independence. I can’t wait to see more of the world,” he elaborated, sitting on your bedside now. “Have you already been somewhere out of the country?”

“Japan and Vietnam, yes,” you replied and yawned. “But that was a long time ago, even before I studied.”

“You’ve never been to Europe either?” You shook your head. “Then you should consider coming with me.”

“I’ll probably be a teacher soon, Jaehyun. Even now, I hardly get any time off, so sadly, I won’t be able to do that. But it’s nice to dream about it. Maybe in the future it will be possible.”

“Hm.” He arose from the mattress and suggested, “You seem tired, how about you take a short nap until dinner? I’ll wake you up then.”

“Oh, that would be nice.” You yawned again. “But what are you going to do until then?”

“Making sure you'll get that job you really want.”

He was fascinating you more and more with each bypassing day.

____

During dinner, you were seated at the Nams’ table, exactly at the opposite of the married couple. You didn’t miss the fact that Mrs. Nam seemed to be in really high spirits, and she and her husband had asked about your wellbeing more than once.

“Tell us, Mr. Jeong, how did you meet your fiancée?” Mr. Nam eventually wanted to know from Jaehyun. 

You had prepared yourselves for this, you had made up an entire story about your first meeting with all the details someone could be curious about, and the rest you would just improvise. Jaehyun was supposed to say that you had met in university since you had both aged him up to fit the storyline.

“We first met when she moved into the apartment next to mine.”

Thank god you were already done with the main course, because you were sure you would have choked on your grilled beef they had served earlier.

“It was early in the morning, just a few days after she moved in. She was in a rush and I had just come back from an all nighter at the library. It was exam time and I suppose she was also in a hurry because of these circumstances.”

At least Jaehyun stayed true to the fake story by making you both university students. But what was he up to, why didn’t he follow your plan in all details? 

You desperately tried to lock eyes with him to give him some kind of signal to stop this, but he ignored you on purpose and just smiled at the guests while telling the story. Though he reached his hand out to your lap, searched for your fingers and embraced them as though in reassurance. Reassurance about what when he was not acting according to the plan at all?

“I was in the lobby, about to get on the elevator when the doors opened and a young woman stormed out of it. She had her bag in one hand, books and her jacket in the other, as well as a cup of coffee balancing on her fingers. She unsuccessfully tried to close the lid with the hand that was holding her bag.”

Wait… 

This was not a made up story. You vaguely remembered being in such a situation shortly after you had moved in. Instead of running late to university, you were running late to work, because you had calculated the commute time wrongly from this part of the city, even though it was closer to the kindergarten. You had successfully wiped this memory out of your mind, for the reason of…

“She was so caught up with her stuff that she didn’t see me and just stormed out of the elevator as soon as the door opened,” Jaehyun continued and earned a few giggles from the listeners. “She bumped right into me and the next moment, I had her coffee all over my shirt.”

… for this exact reason. It was too embarrassing to be kept as a memory. And the guy from that fateful having turned out to be Jaehyun himself was the cherry on top. Why had he never said a word about this incident?

Your embarrassment visibly showed on your cheeks as their color changed, gaining you a few amiable gazes from the guests. 

“She barely looked up as she apologized and tried to drop all her things to clean up the mess.”

“But I didn’t,” you remembered, speaking out loudly, “because you said I should hurry up and go to wherever I needed to go right now, and then cleaned everything up yourself.”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun laughed and a few joined. “You apologized three times and ran out, and I cleaned up the mess with the help of the lobbyist. I knew someone in such a haste had to be somewhere important early in the morning, and I didn’t want to be a hindrance to that, even though I didn’t know you yet.”

A few women at the table let out an “awww”, Mrs. Nam being one of them. 

Now, Jaehyun turned to you and met your confused face with a confident expression of his own. “I had barely looked up,” you added, “because I was too embarrassed, so I couldn’t remember your face. I was just hoping that I would never meet that person again, whoever it might have been.”

Jaehyun addressed the guests and declared, “Fate was not on her side when it turned out to be her next-door-neighbor. Luckily for her, I never mentioned it.”

Laughers from all sides now and you had a hard time keeping your mouth closed that was constantly on the verge of falling agape at this story. You had had no idea.

“Why not?” you then pressed the topic, your role threatening to crumble as you quickly filled in, “I think everyone here is curious as to why you have never told me until we got together.”

“Because I knew how hard working and busy you always were.” You returned to looking at each other, now unsure whether he spoke through his role or spoke as Jaehyun himself. “And I didn’t want to teeter your attention and let our first meeting get overshadowed by an embarrassing moment for you that might bear negative echoes. From that day on though, I was determined to win you over another way and kept this story a secret for later on. I just haven’t expected how difficult that would be.”

“A real gentleman,” a woman commented and she gently nudged her husband in the side.

“For two months, I was trying so many things to get her attention. But it turned out to be rather challenging, because this woman wouldn’t look at me even once if it was not for pouring coffee all over me.” Jaehyun covered his face with the back of his hand as if shyness threatened to break through. “I held the door open for her, waited for her in the lobby, took the same elevator or coincidentally ran into her in the convenience store. All to no avail. She didn’t spare me a single glance again. Not even when my attempts went more…” He paused and withdrew his hand, letting a serious expression full of regret flash by his face before it returned to his gleeful mien, “... vocal. I think at some point, she even started resenting me. But for me, it was enough. She finally recognized me.”

You didn’t know what to feel. It was a totally new story for you, and you were so sure he had just come up with it. But on the other hand, the entire storytelling sounded too real, too full of details and emotions to have just been made up on the spot. 

And the way he looked at you while telling all that... It was a story for the public, but the way he delivered it, the way he still held your hand under the table, indicated that he was telling it to you, and only you. The entire table, even the room, didn’t exist anymore, only you two.

Your fingers started to tremble.

“So, how did you eventually win her over?” Mrs. Nam asked curiously and Jaehyun’s gaze swiftly shifted to hers before returning to you. 

“I found out she needed help with a small favor, so I offered it to her. As to not make it so obvious and awkward for her again, I feigned to not be as good at studying as I actually am and needed to get tutored by her. Otherwise she would have never accepted my help without giving anything in return, or the feeling of it. And the rest is history.”

The crowd was partially in awe and partially shocked at this bold move. You belonged to the latter. Was this still part of your scheme? Then why was he telling the story so close to the truth?

“Mr. Jeong saw what he wanted and went for it,” Mr. Nam concluded. “That’s a true businessman here.”

“How did you react?” Mrs. Nam then wanted to know from you. “Finding out he schemed his way into your heart?”

It was supposed to be a funny remark, but you were not amused by it one bit. Yet, you brought yourself to crack a smile that was far too crooked to be genuine and shook off Jaehyun’s hand from yours. 

Luckily, no one noticed. 

Except for Jaehyun himself.

“I was totally shocked,” you answered Mrs. Nam. “But it turns out his scheming abilities have become really beneficial for him as he’s always geeting what he wants, am I right?”

Everyone at the table failed to notice your disappointed tone and made the connection to Jaehyun’s business skills as they all started talking again, first complimenting his traits, then falling back into a talk about what to invest in next.

Dessert arrived the next moment, but as you looked at the Panna Cotta in front of you, you didn’t crave for it one bit anymore. In fact, you felt sick to your stomach, and Jaehyun, whose hand now was placed on your thigh in a comforting gesture to make amends, was the cause of all this.

“Excuse me,” you quietly apologized, but nobody noticed you arising from your seat and then disappearing into the hallway.

Jaehyun followed you instantly.

____

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Shut up, Jaehyun, I don’t want to hear a single word anymore!”

He was right at the other side of the door, waiting patiently while you were sitting at the other side in your room, grabbing your head in despair and trying to string together the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

“But it’s true,” he said with a softer voice now. “What more can I say for you to believe me?”

“All these women…” It just didn’t make sense in your head. “You wanted me and still were with all these women.”

“I was only with them, because I couldn’t be with you. Sometimes, I’m just… a little boy still. What else was there for me to do when the woman I love wouldn’t even look at me? I’d rather had her look at me with disgust than not looking at me at all.”

A long pause followed. 

“Yes, you’re just a little boy, Jaehyun. You’d rather trick me than tell me the truth straight up.”

“What would you have said if I had one day just appeared at your doorstep and asked you out? Me, a student, five years your junior, who cannot even compare to the men you meet every day at your job? Sometimes, I regretted wanting to go a different path than what my parents mapped out for me just so that I could keep up with them. But I thought, if you finally got to know the real me, all my other qualities, you would eventually see that I am indeed a match to them. A match for you.”

“But that is no valid reason to lie to me! First the tutoring lessons that you clearly didn’t need just to spend time with me, then…” You gasped. “Had you also lied about getting locked out on that day you appeared at the kindergarten?”

The day he had suddenly exchanged his casual clothes for decent ones and had dyed his hair back to dark. That had not been a fateful coincidence. The fact that he had come to your kindergarten on that exact day dressed like that, it had all been carefully planned.

“I knew you probably thought I wouldn’t be the right candidate for that role with my appearance back then, so I wanted to prove to you that I, indeed, was the best choice with my background, and adapted according to the circumstances. I genuinely wanted to help you, even if not for selfless purposes only. I wanted you to want me too.”

“You tricked me, you manipulated me, and you schemed all your way into my heart.”

You heard him shuffle through the door, probably as perplexed as you were as you repeated your last words in your head. Oh no. You were grateful that he let it pass by him though.

“I’m deeply sorry. I am just a boy who didn’t know how to handle his feelings and who was used to getting whatever he wanted. I think I still have a long way to go to grow up.”

You pulled your knees close to your chest and hugged your arms around your legs. “Why today? Why did you choose today to reveal everything? In front of all these people? Was it one of your schemes too?”

“Not once did I have in mind that I wanted to hurt you. I came out with my feelings today, because they were genuine, and your reaction would be genuine too. And it worked, everyone out there believed it. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Yes, this was everything that you had wanted. But why was it hurting so much then? Not only because Jaehyun had gone through all these lengths to make your dream come true, but also because you had wasted this much time together. So, so much time.

“So what if I disposed of you right after this?” Your voice sounded icier than it was supposed to, and he noticed it. “Would you have told everyone the truth out of spite?”

“After all, is that what you still think of me?” His pain was almost palpable and you regretted your question right away. Perhaps, because you wanted him to answer differently, but he replied just like you had secretly wanted him to, “If I had helped you make your dream come true, and you had still chosen them over me, then yes, I would have been very hurt. But I would have been happy for you, too. Isn’t that what love is about?”

This was probably the most mature thing he had said to you today. “And if I had chosen you?”

“After tonight, I believe that if it comes down to me and them, you would pick them.”

Was that what he was thinking of you now? Your heart ached when you asked, “Why do you think that?”

“I saw what you’re dealing with, what you try to achieve. You are too much of a hard worker to throw this all away for a normal student with no real plans, no perspective. Someone who can offer you nothing but a promise that he will work hard to help you achieve everything you want.”

A student with no perspective. Was that how Jaehyun saw himself? 

Yes, he had grown up in a business environment and surrounded by wealth, but he was an enrichment to your life without all that too, in ways your workplace and the people in it had never been. Yes, you loved your job and your students, they were the center of your world, and you were working so very hard for achievement after achievement. 

So hard that it had totally passed by you that you yourself had been the center of the world for someone, and it was actually nice to finally have a person look at you when you had only been overlooked by exactly these people before, who you were trying so hard to impress. And what for?

Jaehyun might only offer promises, but he always made sure to live up to them. Wasn’t this worth so much more?

“I’ll go downstairs again,” he then announced quietly when you didn’t say something in an uncomfortable long time. “If you don’t feel like coming, you can stay here and I’ll find an excuse, don’t worry about that.”

Your front teeth sank into your bottom lip. Jaehyun had been right. Perhaps, you would have called him an idiot for having asked you out the very first day you met. 

“Idiot!” you called out to him now for a whole other reason as you opened the door and dashed after him.

With much surprise twinkling in his eyes, you now stood in front of him and crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated. “If you believe that after everything, when it comes down between you and them, I’d pick them, then you’re an idiot. Because I’d pick you.”

Jaehyun didn’t have much time to process what you had just said as you slung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you. 

The moment you kissed Jaehyun for the very first time you realized that all of this might not have entirely been a scheme at all, from both of your sides. 

He kissed you back with much passion and fierceness, and you felt that exactly these feelings had been lingering inside of you as well.

You just weren’t sure for how long already. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

____

“Here?” you asked Jaehyun with widened eyes when you fell back on the bed.

He crawled on top of you. “Do you think I’ll wait any longer for this?”

“But everyone is still downstairs, finishing dinner.”

“Good,” he whispered and kissed your neck. “Then no one will hear us.”

You chuckled when his playful pecks turned into sensual kisses and he eventually started sucking on the sensitive skin. Goose bumps spread all over your upper body, and you couldn’t remember when you had last been with a man while Jaehyun… You balked.

Immediately, he heaved up his head, looking at you with a surprised expression. He stroked your temple. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t want to admit it. The fact that you felt intimidated by his experience despite you being older. That you felt inferior to all the women he’d ever let in his bed that were far prettier than you. Or so you thought.

But Jaehyun didn’t share your opinion when you hesitantly tried to explain your worries to him.

“You don’t have to worry about any noise coming from my apartment anymore. Because you’re the only one who’s gonna lie in my bed from now on. Okay?”

“Okay.” You giggled when he kissed your cheek. “I really like that.”

Jaehyun sat back up on his knees while suggesting you to keep laying still. He reached out his hands and unbuttoned your blouse. You helped him take off the piece of clothing by winding your body to the side for better access. He then brought his head down to the beginning of your breast and placed a light kiss on a spot that made you shudder. 

With both his pointer fingers, he then searched for the straps of your bra and pulled them aside. You wiggled your arms out of the tightness it had provided, having Jaehyun drag the underwear down enough only for your breasts to lay bare. You turned your gaze to the ceiling and hoped he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks as you weren’t quite sure what to do or how to behave anymore. 

But Jaehyun, on the contrary, knew exactly what he was doing and how to behave. He put your nipple between his lips and started sucking on it, supporting his body with one hand. A pleasurable feeling streamed through your body whenever he wetted the mound and had his teeth gently tug on it. 

With his free hand, he massaged your other breast that had still remained untouched, and the blissful feeling of being pleasured on both sides suddenly started coiling between your legs where you already felt Jaehyun growing hard in between.

“You like that?” He was suddenly up by your ear again, muttering, “By the sounds you make, I take it as a yes.”

You had made sounds? You hadn’t been aware of that, but Jaehyun seemed to enjoy it very much, judging the way he beamed at you. 

He helped you up to a seated position so that you were able to take off your bra entirely before he let you fall back onto the mattress. Jaehyun had his own shirt unbuttoned and on the floor the next moment, and you swallowed a gasp at how well built he actually was. Prominent muscles showed off abs and his arms were unexpectedly muscular. You stared at him in awe, somehow desiring to have his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Like what you see?” He flashed a grin.

Jaehyun was on his knees now, fiddling with his belt that he intended to open, but you couldn’t wait that long to finally touch him. So you arose from your position and grabbed him by his belt yourself. With one swift motion, you had him freed from this barrier, but didn’t withdraw your hands right away. Instead, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants yourself.

Jaehyun stayed patiently silent during your actions, his hand entangled in the hair at the back of your head. When you were about to drag down his pants, a huge bulge was already foreshadowing what you would find underneath. Yet, you still let out a gasp when you slid down his boxers and his cock sprang free in front of you. 

You lifted your hands, but then halted. “May I…?”

You didn’t know if asking was even necessary, but given that it was your first time with him, you wanted to be sure that he really wanted his intimate favors to be returned. 

“You may do whatever you want with it,” Jaehyun growled in anticipation of what was about to come.

You cupped his entire length with one hand and watched in amusement how his head rolled back in satisfaction. His chest irregularly lifted with each breath when you started moving your hand up and down. 

You cracked a smile, speeding up your motions that then elicited moans out of Jaehyun that he eventually successfully suppressed through gritted teeth. People were still dining downstairs, but you also didn’t want to risk being overheard. With your thumb, you slid over the tip of his dick that was already wet and sticky from his precum.

You looked up to Jaehyun who turned his gaze down to you, probably wondering why you had suddenly stopped. But then he found you looking at him with much lust, bringing your thumb to your mouth from where you then licked up all his precum.

It was one of the hottest things Jaehyun had ever seen, and he immediately brought your faces together to kiss you passionately and fiercely.

Not much later, you were laying on your back again, entirely naked this time, and Jaehyun was settled between your legs, his elbows braced against the mattress on either side of your head. He nudged you to open your thighs, and you were more than willing to finally welcome him.

Jaehyun did everything in his might to reassure you as you distorted your face at the sharp pain shooting through your lower abdomen upon him entering you with his tip. It had been a long time, so your body was not adjusted to this kind of stretching anymore, and it let you feel it. 

Jaehyun moved very slowly though, with pauses in between, until he was fully sheathed inside of you. And eventually, when he stilled to let you adapt, pain turned into the long awaited pleasure. Suddenly, him filling you out so fully was not an inconvenience anymore, but something inside you screamed for him to go deeper than that so that you would feel more of him. 

Your fingers interlaced in the back of Jaehyun’s neck and his lips came down to kiss you over and over again. He wanted to be assured that you were really okay with him continuing before he ultimately started stroking. 

It still stung when he withdrew himself. But after only two thrusts, you felt nothing anymore except for the ungraspable desire for him to push inside you again. And again. And again. Whenever he pulled out, you couldn’t bear to have him in this position for too long, because you wanted him to hit the spot he had just found. And again. And again.

“Shhhh-” Jaehyun halted and laughed quietly before kissing you. “You want everyone to hear you now?”

“Oh!” You brought your hands in front of your mouth to suffocate the moans that you apparently had let out unconsciously. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t ever be sorry. You can moan if you don’t mind them.”

But you shook your head. “I don't want them to hear, but I just can’t help it.”

Jaehyun nodded in understanding and started thrusting into you again. And again, you let out a moan despite your efforts to keep your lips sealed. You slid your arms under his and hugged his back. Simultaneously, you brought your legs up and hooked them behind him. The bed shook under you, but luckily it was not making much noise. 

Gently, you bit into Jaehyun’s shoulder to muffle your sounds, and as he didn’t react to it with a wince of pain, you got assured that it was okay for him. On the contrary, he got even braver now. Where he had seemingly been holding himself back this entire time, he was now grabbing the headboard and used it as a support to speed up his stroking game. 

He slammed into you over and over, and you were holding onto him like a lifeline now with your head buried in his chest. Your thighs tensed around his hips as you felt the pleasure that had accompanied you all throughout the act coiling up to a destructive ball between your legs. It tugged on every fiber of your body, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on it, otherwise, you thought, it would tear you apart.

“Oh, Jaehyun,” you breathed, your nails digging deep into his skin on the back. “I-”

You let out a long breath, very well aware of the fact that when the feeling finally came crashing down on you, you would be in no position to hold in the noises that would pass your lips. 

You then were petrified, eyes widening in shock when you suddenly overheard steps and noises in the hallway. People had finished dinner and were now returning to their rooms, it seemed. There was no way you could now end this with noises!

Jaehyun was very well aware of your surroundings too though, but was not determined to let anyone disrupt what he had been dreaming to do to you for months already. He nodded in silence and pressed you back down on the mattress. With his palm flat, he then covered your mouth, but made sure your nostrils were still free for you to breathe properly. You looked at him with glistening eyes, your arms now loose around his neck.

“Scream,” he summoned. “Scream all you want. I’ll make sure nobody will hear you.”

And you did. 

You screamed your heart out into his hand when you came undone beneath him, fingers scratching over his shoulders and toes curled up as your entire body convulsed. And he drowned every single sound so that nobody could hear you except for him only.

When Jaehyun let go of you with a sneaky grin, your mouth was dry and your vision blurry, but you could still watch his sweaty chest arise above you when he prepared himself for his own heights. Deep toned moans entered your ears and you smiled softly as you let him cum all inside you with a few more thrusts that eventually slowed down.

Jaehyun fell limply next to you, but, with his remaining strength, he still managed to pull you up to his chest so that you could find a comfortable spot there. It was already dark outside and you heard one door close after another, indicating that people were now ending the day.

“So, you still want to sleep with a wall of pillows between us?” Jaehyun teased and played with a strand of your hair.

You laughed when you remembered how you had initially been so worried about the one bed setup. 

Now, it was very conventional.

____

You only remembered falling asleep and dreaming soundly in Jaehyun’s arms after two more rounds of muffled screams and shaking orgasms. 

When you woke up much later, still in the middle of the night though, those arms that had held you warm were no longer wrapped around you, and your bed was missing his body.

Your first thought was that Jaehyun had fled and your heart jumped to your throat. That he had realized he didn’t want you after all and just dropped you like that. That you were, in fact, unlovable.

You slowly started to calm down again though when you saw his bag still laying where he had placed it and part of his clothes that he had worn the evening before still neatly folded on the chair in front of the dressing table. 

“Jaehyun?” you asked carefully when you got out of the bed and threw on your pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

You approached the bathroom, but no light was coming from inside, indicating that no one was in there after all, and when you eventually opened the door, you found out that you had been correct. 

Where could he have disappeared to? It was so odd. 

You slid into your slippers with the intention of leaving the room as quietly as possible. You knew you could have also waited for Jaehyun to return, but something inside you wouldn’t be able to casually get back to sleep without an anxious feeling, so you needed to get rid of it in an instant and find him.

You didn’t need to look for long though. The moment you opened the door, he was already standing right in front of you, not less surprised by your sudden appearance as vice versa. 

“Where have you been?” you whispered when he closed the door behind him after stepping into the room.

With a swift motion, he held a bottle of water in front of you. “I was thirsty, so I went to get something to drink from the kitchen.”

“Oh…” You had been so anxious for nothing. 

“What?” he grinned when he went over to the table and placed the bottle on it. “You thought I sneaked out in the middle of the night?”

You shrugged and seated yourself on the bedside with a long sigh while Jaehyun opened the water bottle and drank from it. “When I woke up after my nap this afternoon, you weren’t here either. I know you went to the talk with the Nams, but…”

Jaehyun placed the bottle down again and closed the lid. “Were you afraid I had suddenly left? Or worse… that I was with another woman?”

“Well…” You averted your gaze by turning your head to the side. “You’ve been with many women after all. And I’ve always heard everything.”

Jaehyun didn’t respond until he stood in front of you and had your face cupped with his hands. “What if I tell you that throughout this childish act, there has always been just one woman I wanted to be with, and now that I have her, I don’t need anyone else anymore?”

You lowered your gaze and smiled reluctantly. Despite the darkness, you saw the entire truth flicker in his eyes and believed every word that he said. Why shouldn’t you after all? He had done all this just for you.

“I believe you.”

“Very well.” He kissed you and crawled back into the bed to where you followed him. “So, what should we do when we return home tomorrow?”

You first got on your knees and fluffed up your pillow. “What do you mean?”

Jaehyun grabbed you by your arm and pulled you towards him. The next moment, you laid with your stomach flat on top of him and he brushed through your hair, gently kissing your parting. “I don’t mean we have to get married by the time of your promotion. Yet.” You blushed, but luckily he couldn’t see. “But if you start going out with me, I’d be just as happy, Miss Neighbor.”

You braced your arms against the mattress and lifted your upper body up so that you could wind yourself and face him. “If you think I would ever give up that spot next to you on the bed now, then you’re so wrong.”

“I like the way you think.” 

A deep kiss followed, only interrupted by your muffled whimpers when he pulled down your pants and nudged hard between your legs again.

____

You had parted with the hosts on magnificent terms with Mr. Nam exclusively promising you that he would vote for you to get the job. As of this weekend, you, with the help of your fake fiancé turned real boyfriend, had proven to be the best candidate for the soon to be open position, and if anyone still thought otherwise, Mr. Nam would convince them himself. 

Mrs. Nam had only silently nodded, seeming displeased over something, but you didn’t bother too much about her mood swings since you had never liked her anyway. If you had her husband’s word, then nothing else mattered anymore.

You had one week left to prepare yourself for the meeting with the board, but since everything seemed to be home and dry, you could relax most days and spent every night at your neighbor’s over there in room 803. 

“Scream,” Jaehyun had said the first time you went next door, sitting naked on top of him with your hips locked on his. He had let his hands roam over your cheeks and squeezed tightly into the flesh. “You can scream as loud as you want here. Don’t care about the neighbors.”

And, as a matter of fact, the screams that came out of room 803 from that night on, only belonged to you.

____

“I’m very sorry to deliver this message to you, miss,” the director said, “but we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city.”

In front of you, you visibly saw your whole world shatter.

What had gone wrong? Had you not spoken to the Nams just last weekend, who had promised you that you had secured the position already and the rest were only formalities? What had happened in the past days that must have apparently changed their minds completely?

“I’m sorry, I think I might have misunderstood,” you apologized, “I assumed the parents who are also part of the investor group, for example Mr. and Mrs. Nam, also have a say in this. Do they not?”

You had already been welcomed with a dreadful feeling when you had opened the door and only found the director sitting in the room. None of the others had been present unlike the last time. Still, you had hoped that you were wrong.

“Oh, they do, miss. Actually, every parent has approved of you.”

“Then, what changed your mind?” You had a really hard time keeping your voice at a respectful level. You had done everything they had expected of you. Save from… “Is it because I’m still not married? They all know I’m engaged and they know my fiancé. I can always hand in a copy of the certificate later, but we do not have a date yet.”

“Miss…” The director lifted up his hand, smiling this time. “I said we cannot offer you the position at our kindergarten in this city. I repeat the last words: in this city.”

Your brows drew together in skepsis. “So that means…” You didn’t want to speak out loud what you were thinking as you didn’t know yet whether these were better or worse news.

“Congratulations!” The director arose from his chair, rounded the table and approached you. “We offer you the position of an elementary school teacher in one of our Shi-A schools in Busan!”

“In… Busan?”

It was odd how the city’s name was the first word that resonated in your head. Not “elementary school teacher” which even meant a significant upgrade from your current position. But the city’s name. A city on the other side of the country where you would need to move to if you accepted this position. Which meant in retrospect that you had to move out of your current apartment, away from…

“Miss?” The director looked at you curiously. “Are you not pleased about this?”

“I am!” you corrected yourself. “I am truly happy over the fact that you offer me an even higher position now.”

“Fantastic! We are aware that you will have to move then, but don’t worry about the logistics, we will provide for all expenses you need. You can start with the new semester, so there is plenty of time. Isn’t it fortunate?”

He wasn’t aware of the fact that this, indeed, was really unfortunate for you.

____

Not long after you had gotten the work contract to read through and sign until the week after that, you were standing outside of the director’s room, petrified to the core. Too many thoughts were flying into your head that you struggled with to organize. 

This was your dream. This was your dream coming true, yet…

“Not happy about your new position after all?” 

In front of you stood Mrs. Nam, arms folded across her chest, standing high on her heels. Her lips were curled up to a smile that was all too wicked and did not resemble the persona she had shown to you the majority of the past weekend. 

You were at a loss for words as you couldn’t define her expression, but she was happy enough to help you out when she explained, “In the beginning, I fancied your fiancé very much. I thought he wouldn’t say no to a bit of fun with me. Nobody ever had. Until then. Or should I better say… fake fiancé?” Your mouth fell agape, but you were quick to close it with a hard swallow. “Yes, my chin also dropped when I overheard your little conversation after dinner.”

“Let me ex-”

But she only lifted her hand to gesture to you to stop speaking. Her nostrils flared, anger clearly mirrored in her eyes. “After our tennis match, before I found out the truth between you two, I met with him and suggested that he would come to me during nighttime. I had so much fun watching you being all giddy during dinner, knowing that once you’d be asleep, he’d slip into my bed.”

You needed a moment to process everything she had said. When you had been asleep, Jaehyun had met with Mrs. Nam who had then offered him a place in her bed? You were furious. A married woman making advances on a taken man… you had heard about her reputation among the childrens’ mothers, but never had you thought that one day, you would become her victim too. 

But more so… Another thought suddenly cut off the air in your lungs. “Jaehyun has not declined?”

Her eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t declined.” Your heart dropped. “When we met during the night, I didn’t mention what I found out. I didn’t care if it meant I could see him more often. But he had recorded the entire conversation and then dared to blackmail me. That bastard had followed his own plan all along. He told me that if you wouldn’t get this position without him needing to share my bed, then he’d play it to my husband, to the entire board and the school if necessary. I told him that if he did that, I would tell everyone you weren’t even together. Unfortunately for me, unlike him, I didn’t have any proof.”

Suddenly, you felt like you could breathe again. Jaehyun hadn’t declined her invitation, because he had his own scheme mapped out and wanted to help you all along.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” you asked sharply. “Luring taken men into your bed as a married woman?”

She raised one brow in questioning. “As far as I know, he hasn’t been taken at that time, am I right?” Unfortunately, she was, but you kept quiet. “The men I’ve been with have never once been happy in their marriage or have drifted apart from their partner already. At best, they already had affairs going on. The only mistake I made this time was choosing someone who I thought was a naive kid. My fault.”

“Is that why you’re sending me away? To get revenge on him for doing what was right and not betraying me?”

Mrs. Nam slowly moved her head from one side to the other. “I’m not sending you away, otherwise my husband would start questioning. I’m giving you a choice. Either stay here in your old position or move to chase after a more glorious future. After all, that’s what you want, right? The lengths you’re going through to get what you want? What’s making you so different from me, then?”

She had thrown the truth over you like a bucket of ice cold water. You had lied your way into the promotion and dragged Jaehyun along with you in the process. Were you really different from them? It was written all over your face, apparently.

“Exactly.” Mrs. Nam grinned. “You remind me of me when I was younger. I also wanted power and wealth, and eventually got trapped in a loveless marriage. I’m not heartless, miss. After all, it only takes me a few phone calls to ruin your fake fiancé and everyone related to him. His little audio has nothing on my power.”

“Then why?” The contract was rattling in your shaking hands. “Why give me a choice in the first place and not fire me on the spot?”

“My daughter adores you very much, she talks about you every day.” A flash of regret passed over her face, but before you could catch the entire meaning of it, it had already vanished. Perhaps, she cared more about her daughter than she had let seen past, but failed to show it. “Back in the days, I made the wrong decision on what to choose. Perhaps, I hope, you’re going to make the right one.” She turned on her heels and lifted up her hand as though she wanted to bid farewell to you. “I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

The contract was still shaking in your hand long after she had left.

____

When you walked into Jaehyun’s apartment later that day, your face was still like stone, the contract also still in your hands. 

On your entire way back home, you had read through each paragraph over and over again. It sounded too good to be true. Nearly the double amount of salary, more days off during vacation and your own assistant teacher. You were offered to teach the first two years of elementary school and if necessary, they would even provide housing for the first three months.

This was everything you’d ever worked hard for and dreamt of. 

“I got offered the position of an elementary school teacher from next semester on,” you declared nearly absent-mindedly as you sank down on the couch and handed him over the contract. 

“Congratulations!” Jaehyun wore a solemn expression on his face when he flopped down on the cushion next to you. “You want to celebrate?”

His happiness pulled you out of your thoughts and you faced him with an agonized expression. “There is nothing to celebrate about this, Jaehyun! The position is in Busan! That’s on the other side of the country!”

“Okay calm down…” When you made attempts to arise, he touched your upper arm and indicated to you to stay seated. “I know where Busan is. That’s no problem. I’ll just go with you, because I’ll finish university in two months anyway. And after that…”

You cracked a pained smile. “After that you want to go to Europe.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need to go to Europe. I can go with you and find a job there.”

“And not living your dream? What you have worked so hard towards after you helped me achieve everything that I wanted? You want to drop that?”

He looked at you like you had just uttered the most ridiculous question someone could ask. “You’re more important to me than that dream.”

“Was that what you also thought when you blackmailed Mrs. Nam?”

Jaehyun drew in a sharp breath. “So you know.”

“You lied to me again!” you yelled. “When will you ever stop lying to me about serious stuff, Jaehyun?”

“I was about to tell you as soon as I knew about the offer, when your position was secured! I saw the chance and I took it! What did she tell you?”

You told him about your encounter with the parent and had arisen from your seated position by the time you finished, walking around the living room in nervous circles now. 

“She didn’t just suggest it,” Jaehyun opposed. “She told me, for you to get this position, I’d need to sleep with her, otherwise she would tell her husband what a bad teacher you are. And I was absolutely not going to do it, so I thought if she dared to blackmail me, I could do the same and pretend to be interested just to let it all blow into her face. What would you have done if you knew? There was absolutely nothing you could have done! I turned the situation to your advantage!”

“She could have come forward with the entire truth! She could have gotten me fired and your true identity revealed!” You came to a halt in front of him on the couch and he took your hand into his, trying to calm you down. “Do you know what that could have meant? If you had informed me, we could have tried to figure it out together!”

“And then for you to resent them and quit what you were working so hard for? I was not about to risk that! I was only acting in your best interest.”

You wiggled your hands out of his and shifted around, away from him. “You put both of our futures at risk by doing that, Jaehyun! What if exactly the opposite had happened? What then? Would you have taken responsibility for it?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time and you braced your hands against the table, losing a long breath. 

“I just… I just wanted to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help! I never had! Look at what happened!”

You were just so, so frustrated. You had only gotten this offer, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only been invited to the getaway weekend, because Jaehyun had interfered. You had only fallen into the parents’ favors, because Jaehyun had interfered. 

Had you achieved all this without him as well? Something inside you was assured that you wouldn’t have.

And you resented him for that.

“In the end, you’ve ruined everything I’ve planned and worked so hard for! Had you not come into the picture at all, then I would have gained their favors myself! After I’ve gotten the offer, I would have announced my separation and everything would have been fine!”

Suddenly, Jaehyun was behind you, turning you around by your shoulders. “You know that’s not true,” he said calmly. “I know how these people are, and you now know too. It wouldn’t have worked.”

Yes, you knew. That was why your resentment was so strong. Everything you had ‘achieved’ was ‘achieved’ through a man, with the help of a man. Even the board had only consisted of men, and in the end, Mr. Nam had given you his permission after having bonded with Jaehyun, not yourself. 

This was not entirely your own achievement. Everything you had worked so hard for, was in vain in the end, because Jaehyun had only needed to do a bit of small talk, play with his charms, and they were butter in his hands.

Yet, it still hadn’t all worked out in your favor.

“I also have the option to stay, but only in my old position.” 

“As I said,” Jaehyun interrupted you with a gentle voice, “I’ll go wherever you go.”

But you weren’t sure whether you wanted this.

You moved past him and grabbed your purse from the couch. “I need time to think.”

When you walked out of Jaehyun’s apartment, you found two neighbors in the hallway, talking to each other. 

One of them was Mrs. Choi and the other person was the neighbor with the dog. They were trying hard to pretend that they hadn’t eavesdropped all the yelling coming out of room 803 earlier as opposed to the usual noise, and greeted you, but you just ignored them.

That night, you didn’t return to Jaehyun’s room.

____

When you had first voiced the desire to become a teacher, your priority was to support and foster children who really needed special attention. Those who got overlooked in school, who suffered from the intense pressure and who possessed talents that weren’t recognized.

You had landed the assistant teacher position in that prestigious private kindergarten, because you had been sent there from your former teacher’s program when the previous one needed to be admitted to the hospital due to severe burnout. She had never returned and you were able to stay as it was in the middle of the semester. It had been sheer luck.

As an assistant teacher, you were only doing that: assisting. None of the things that had driven you to study this major could have come to use yet, and you were tired. You wanted to become a real teacher, because you thought you could finally get the wheels rolling this way.

Jaehyun saw it in your eyes the moment you opened the door. “You’re going to Busan.”

You bit into your lower lip, nodding almost noticeably. “I’ll go to Busan.”

“Without me.” He smiled in defeat.

“Yes.”

“Is it so hard for you?” he asked. “To just let people you love into your life?”

“It’s not that I go because I don’t love you.”

He had you in his arms and inside his apartment before the first tear fell. “I know. I love you too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears dropped onto his shirt and lifted your arms, holding meekly onto the fabric. “You’re just so young and you’re going to finish your studies soon. You shouldn’t go with me.”

Quietly, he whispered into your hair, “I know.”

If Jaehyun went with you, he would give up his dream of finally breaking free from his parents and seeing the world. You were not going to rob him of that. If you didn’t go, you would need to give up your own dream, and he wouldn’t want that either. 

Perhaps, it was because you were older and more experienced than Jaehyun, but you had felt from the beginning that whatever you had started was going to find an end soon anyway. There was just no future for two people who were at such different stages in their life. 

Sometimes in life, there were no winners in love.

You snuggled up to him more and sobbed, “I’m really grateful for what you have done for me. Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to come so far.”

In the end, you had come to your senses. You were not going to throw his selfless acts away and accepted the gift he had been willing to give to you without anything in return. Just because he selflessly loved you. As simple as that. You were willing to pass this message on to everyone who needed it.

At his age, perhaps it was really this simple to love so fiercely and unconditionally. Later in life though, he would realize that it would take much, much more.

“Nonsense.” Jaehyun chuckled lightly. “You can achieve anything you want, you know that. You were just in the wrong environment. You can still-”

You shook your head and withdrew yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t change anything. You helped me achieve my goal and I’m not going to stand in the way of yours. You never dreamed of staying here after your graduation. If you do, even with all the love you hold for me now, you’re going to resent me one day, and I don’t want to take credit for that. Perhaps you don’t understand now, but you will in the future. You have to go.”

Mrs. Nam was wrong. You didn’t choose wealth and power over love. There was a third option. You chose your dream. And Jaehyun should do that too.

“When I’ve finished my travels and started with my business, can I come find you again?”

He wanted a sliver of hope, a silver lining. If it put him at ease, you would give him that, even if the chance was so less, you wouldn’t even dare to dream about it in secrecy.

“I’ll wait for you.”

With the kind of lifestyle Jaehyun had been living before you, you were sure that he would forget about this sliver of hope all too soon.

When he met girls in other countries, he would forget about his neighbor in room 804 at his former apartment complex who had always been so mean to him. Soon, you would only be a blurry picture in a string of memories, joining the ranks of his many, many lovers.

He would not suffer too long, if at all. 

He would be fine, knowing that in the end, you still had picked them over him, just like he had initially predicted.

When Jaehyun kissed you goodbye, you were quite sure that this was the last time you would ever see him again despite living next door, which made getting over this breakup even more painful.

Back in your own room, you took off your fake engagement ring and put it into the far corner of a cramped drawer.

Whenever you went to bed the following days, you hoped that noises would start coming out of room 803 again. 

You were scared that without the noises, he would hear you cry yourself to sleep every night until you nearly passed out from exhaustion and only woke up with a swollen face the next morning over the pain of your heart breaking apart.

But no noise could be heard ever again coming out of room 803.

And it broke you even more, knowing he was suffering as much as you.

____

Two months later, in late December, Jaehyun moved out.

You came home to movers carrying box after box out of his apartment. You had lingered a bit longer at your front door, heart pounding at your throat, just to get a glimpse of Jaehyun for one last time. But he had not been present that day. When you left your apartment a few hours later to grab dinner from the convenience store, his room was entirely empty.

According to the semester plan, he must have finished his last exams by now, so he was unofficially done with his bachelor studies. You doubted he would come back for a ceremony in February, so he was free to do whatever he wanted now. Perhaps, he was sitting on a plane to Italy or France at this very moment. 

A few days later, an elderly woman moved into room 803.

And life went on.

____

One year later

“Teacher, what are you going to do during vacation?” one of your students, a four-year-old-boy, asked.

It was the day before winter break, but working for a public kindergarten meant you would at least get a week to yourself during New Year in January apart from desk warming the remaining break. A week in two months of winter break and thanks to public holidays only, but it was better than nothing at all.

“Perhaps,” you answered while putting one hand crafted paper star after another that the children had made for christmas on the classroom’s windows, “I’ll take a little trip.”

“To where?” another girl, one year older, chimed in. “I’m going to Busan to visit my grandmother!”

“I’m going to Busan too!” the boy then announced. “Teacher, have you ever been to Busan?”

You shook your head, reaching for another star he held out to you. “I’ve never come to visit there. Can you recommend it?”

“Yes!” Both children yelled excitedly. 

“Then I’ll ask you where I should visit when I go there!”

They nodded in acknowledgement and returned back to their work which was crafting more stars so that the entire windows would be covered in them by the end of the day. 

Twice a week, the kindergarteners were divided into different groups which either focused on art or music. The main subjects taught were reading, writing and maths. Apart from that, the children had enough free time to enjoy being real children, which they spent playing together, being outside and getting taught other necessary educational topics like brushing teeth and healthy nutrition in a playful way.

In comparison to Shi-A private kindergarten, where the teachers had paid homage to the parents with impressive courses including Chinese and English, topped with real diplomas and graduation ceremonies as well as teachers who had to work all throughout each break, this public school was where you felt you belonged.

This was where you finally felt you could actually support the children like you had always wanted, in an environment safer for them and their teachers.

And that was the very reason why you had never signed the contract for Shi-A elementary school in Busan in the first place.

In fact, you had never planned on doing so. How else would you have convinced Jaehyun to leave after everything? Just because you couldn’t live your dream didn’t mean he shouldn’t either.

You had never picked other people over him, you had always picked him. 

Before you had gone to him to break up, you had thought about the upcoming decision for very long. You had loved those children, but eventually, they would move on and forget you. While you would have been stuck in a slave contract in a worse environment than before with parents from hell. All the money and other benefits could have never made up for the mental suffering.

It had always been your dream to work for a reputable private school, but one day, you had remembered the little girl inside of you who had not wanted reputation and recognition and was only there to help children.

So you had quit altogether.

And then you had eventually landed a job as a teacher at this public kindergarten where the salary was much lower and the commute took over an hour one way, but the work conditions were much better and the teachers and children just as lovely. The parents were not less strict, but tolerable and nobody tried to sabotage anyone.

Yet nowadays, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was still not everything to your life as a teacher. This could not be it, there had to be more you could move in this entire system. You just couldn’t point a finger as to what it could be as this was everything you had ever dreamed of having.

“What are you going to do during our time off?” you asked your assistant teacher. 

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend’s family for the very first time, they’ve invited me to spend New Years with them,” she giggled shyly. “I’m so excited. And you?”

You smiled, happy for everyone who had plans except for you. 

“Perhaps, I’m going on a little trip to Busan. I’ve never been there before.”

____

It was already late when you arrived at home, and as always during winter, it was dark outside now as well. 

While you typed in the door code combination, you wondered which convenience store food you would get for dinner today as again, you were too exhausted to cook something yourself. A small vacation would surely help you relax and start into the new semester more fresh. Yes, you should definitely go to Busan.

You halted though when you opened your front door. Had you accidentally left the lights on?

You hurried through the narrow hall, at one point wondering if you had been robbed during your absence when a voice spoke up before you even reached the living room,

“I still remember your passcode from the day I climbed through your window.”

Jaehyun arose from your couch and your breath caught. 

He was still as handsome as the last time you had seen each other over a year ago. Nicely dressed, hair still dark and neatly combed aside. He looked healthy and happy, and it made you happy too to see him like this.

At one point, you had dropped your bag on the floor while you could do nothing else but stare at him and stare, wondering if this was a dream. One of too many from the past year, of which you had never hoped could ever come true.

“What… are you doing here?” You didn’t know what else to say, you had so many questions.

“I’m living here now.” With a grin, he pointed at a suitcase in the corner of the living room. “Temporarily.”

“Well…” You cleared your throat and feigned braveness. “As far as I remember, your room is the one next to mine, room 803.”

“Yeah, but sadly that one is already occupied by a very nice, elderly lady who was quickly able to assure me that you were still living here.”

Before you could think twice, you had already closed the distance between you two, and he held you tightly in his arms, quietly, for a very long time.

“You liar,” Jaehyun eventually said, with no trace of reproach in his tone though, pressing you even closer to his chest. “You big, fat liar. When I called Shi-A elementary school in Busan. They told me they never heard of you, and when I called your former kindergarten, they said you quit a year ago.”

“I’ll take credit for being a liar this time as opposed to you.” You smiled through your tears when Jaehyun gently pushed you away from him and cupped your face. “I didn’t want you to stay here with me. I didn’t want you to give up on your dream just because I did.”

“Say no more. I understand." His expression was so gentle, his face free of any worry and doubt. “I was a regular student with no real perspective and just one dream. You just told me to do what a good teacher would have told all their students. This time, all the trickery rightfully belonged to you, but I would be really happy if we stop that now.”

You nodded, your tears salty against your lips, but Jaehyun kissed them all away from your cheeks. “I’m so glad you came back,” you sobbed.

“I told you I would.”

It had never been only a sliver a hope for him. It had always been a promise.

“But what if I wouldn’t have been here anymore?”

“Then I would have come to Busan or to wherever in the world to get you.”

You blinked through your blurry vision. “To get me where?”

One corner of Jaehyun’s lips tilted up when he let go of you. “Eventually, my parents came to their senses and didn’t abandon me like they always threatened. The longer I traveled and the more people I met, the more I realized that with my background and roots, I am able to achieve something, to change something, and far faster than anyone else. I am so privileged and took it for granted when I can twist it to an advantage instead of being a selfish brat. When I have the possibility and opportunity, I don’t want to throw it away. So halfway through my trip, I was just building connections for my future. I will join my parents’ business after all, but not to work for them, but for myself. I will build my own sister company.”

“Jaehyun, that’s amazing!” you congratulated him. “I’m happy you figured out your future path! I can assure you, you’re going to do such a great job.”

Sometimes, it just took someone a few months off to figure out where they belonged, what they wanted. If he had followed you, he might or might have not come to the same conclusion. You couldn’t figure out an answer. But what mattered was that he had one after all.

“So all throughout your Europe trip, it was not only drinking and girls?” you teased. 

“Please.” He waved aside. “Everyone was annoyed by the fact that I kept talking about one woman only who I would return to eventually.”

You blushed. “Still, you told me you came to take me. To where, tell me?” 

Jaehyun’s expression turned stern, but hopeful. “To the UK. That’s where I want to build my company, kind of like an overseas branch. I still can’t offer you much, but in a few years, I promise you, when my business is flourishing and we live in a nice townhouse in the center of London with a small garden and a dog and children, you won’t regret it. But…” He halted as though a sudden thought had crossed his mind. “But if you have already found someone who can offer just as much now or even better, then I understand if you decline.”

“How many?” you asked while losing a breath you had been holding in.

“What?”

“How many children?”

Perhaps, that was it, what you were missing. Perhaps, you weren’t supposed to work in this environment for the entirety of your life. Perhaps, just like Jaehyun, you were destined for so much more, for another path, and that path was perhaps not etched into the grounds of this country.

How were you supposed to find out if you didn’t try just like he had?

“T-two,” Jaehyun responded, unsure whether it was the right answer.

He could have said one or ten for all you cared. “Sounds good. I should then tell my fiancé our engagement is called off, because he wants three.”

“...what?”

You shook your head and laughed. “There is no fiancé, neither real or fake. There… hasn’t been anyone since you.”

“Good. It’s good to see you so happy and carefree finally.” Jaehyun approached you and put his hands on your waist, drawing you close to him. “And I’m relieved there is no other man. Because when I’m going to propose to you, it’s going to be for real this time.”

A smile radiating pure bliss left your lips when you got on your toes and finally kissed him.

You were blissfully unaware of the fact that Jaehyun had already picked out the ring before he had left the country, one identical to your fake one, just made of platinum and adorned with a real diamond. Princess cut, two carats. Just like you had dreamed of. 

He had carried it with him whenever he went, like a lucky charm.

The ring was a reminder to him that there was always a reason to come back.

Because his future wife was waiting for him, and she deserved everything she had ever dreamed of. 

[nightingale-prompts]

Beautiful Ghost-DC x DP prompt

Part of the Accidental Ghost Courting AU 》 HERE

We finally get Tim's perspective on Danny

If there is one thing everyone on campus knows it's that Danny Nightingale is hot. Not in the stereotypical supermodel or Hollywood way. He was so attractive it was scary like he dropped out of a fairy tale.

Tim first saw Danny after whispers started going around. He spotted Danny in the library walking towards the observatory on the top floor.

At first glance, you'd call him a goth and there was no shortage of people who'd love to date one. It's probably why no one shuts up about him. But Tim could tell this wasn't the corporate punk type goth that he saw Damian scrolling through on his phone. Tim was quick to tease Damian and stop what would inevitably become a phase.

No, Danny had a clear style. Classic gothic...but also not. It's hard to explain. His clothes looked handmade, straight out of the 1800s. Did he thrift or make them himself? He was an astronomy major right? Or was is engineering?

Danny looked almost ethereal. Tall, lean, and almost glowing skin. It wasn't until later that Tim would be close enough to see the way his skin sort of glittered in low light.

People parted to not obstruct Danny's path as he went toward the observatory.

Everyone knew that Danny was off limits, too cowardly to get the courage to ask him out and risk rejection. So Danny remained unreachable.

Tim paid it no mind. He acknowledged that Danny was good-looking but there wasn't much else that got his attention. Danny didn't pay attention to others.

But Tim couldn't help but notice that Danny was always alone in his own little world. There was a hint of longing in him. Tim might have overheard a few things.

Danny would usually be in the library reading eclectic materials, playing with tarot cards, and studying star charts. Other days he was in the greenhouse tending to a little corner of plants he was growing. He seemed bored. He looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.

Tim might have done some research. Just scrolling through Danny's social media. Pictures of friends and graveyards. Most of the landscape photos were taken after his arrival in Gotham. Tim gathered that Danny was alone out here and far from home. He could fit in easily around here but simply chose not to.

It wasn't until that faithful day when Danny offered him a bundle of red carnations and a cup of Death Wish coffee.

"You looked like you need this." He said smiling.

And wow...that smile. Tim didn't think he'd ever see a smile like that. It was a sort of lopsided smile, a bit clumsy but sweet. Danny had elongated canines. Were they fake or was it a medical condition?

Tim didn't know how to respond to Danny's offer but he wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee.

Over the next few weeks, Tim found himself on campus more often and hanging around Danny. Danny tended to be very generous. Always gave things to Tim, most of which he made himself. That is what made it all feel genuine. On cold days Danny always had a hot cup of coffee or tea. When it was sunny he had something sweet freshly baked. When it rained he had flowers to brighten the room. When it was foggy he wanted to go find something fun to do. Danny also worked at the flower shop nearby which was said to be haunted by the old owners.

Rumors spread more and more that Danny wasn't human, like some kind of fae that took human form. Was there a chance it was true? Yes. Does that mean that Tim was going to test that?

Yes.

So Tim just wanted to test that theory and gave Danny a bracelet that looked similar to the ones he usually had. It just so happened to be made of Iron. Tim felt bad about it (kinda) but it was just genuine curiosity.

But no Danny wasn't a fae. He was incredibly happy to get a gift though so no harm done.

Another thing Tim noticed was Danny's eyes. They weren't blue like he thought. Danny had central heterochromia. He had a ring of bright green near his iris surrounded by icy blue. Not that Tim was staring at his eyes or anything, just that no one ever mentions that part when describing Danny. It's pretty notable you know. More people should know that.

...

.....

It's normal to think that.

Anyways Tim and Danny meet up when they can. Danny likes visiting graveyards and abandoned churches. Not that he doesn't like the movies or arcades because he loves that stuff. But one time after a late class he dragged Tim with him on a scenic drive out of the city to this spot he found. It was this massive cliff just far enough from the city that you could see the stars.

Tim never really gave much thought to the stars. He's seen them thousands of times especially being carried around by Kon or on the Watchtower. But right then watching Danny fiddle with his telescope babbling on about the planets and far-off galaxies, the stars felt new and wondrous.

Was this what it felt like to be normal? Just a college kid going on a spontaneous road trip with a friend, not thinking about patrols or duties.

He liked it.

Danny had a way of making him forget about the rest of the world. Someone not linked to heroes and assassins. A friend, a weird one but one he didn't have to be Robin with. He was just Tim to Danny. Not Tim Wayne, not Tim Drake, just Tim.

Because of that, he wanted to keep Danny as far from his family as possible. They already think they were dating and he'd be damned if they scared Danny away. This didn't stop them from investigating Danny and that brat wont stop spouting his opinion.

"I don't know what he sees in you. Aside from appearance, there isn't much to like." Damian grumbled.

"He must be really vain then because Tim doesn't deserve this kid." Jason responded.

"But if he even thinks about hurting Drake-"

"Yeah, we bury him."

Tim has chosen to ignore everything they say.

The last issue is Phantom.

Tim doesn't like Phantom.

The spirit had been hanging around Gotham for a while now. He lingered around the corners of the city and if he felt like it he'd interfere. In his own words, Phantom said that he dealt with the dead, not the living. Tim did some research and it's said Phantom showed up near the dying or dead as a sort of shepherd to souls. He made the transition easier for them.

So when Phantom was seem lingering around Danny he couldn't accept it. He'd be damned if he let some spooky bastard take Danny. He can't have him.

So Tim decided to invite Danny to stay with him for a few days. But a few day became a week became two weeks. Don't judge. This was just so Tim could look out for Phantom and prevent Danny from dying. It hasn't been working so far since Phantom hasn't been seen nearby.

But Tim did run into him.

"Why are you stalking Danny Nightingale?" Tim damanded.

Phantom circled overhead his spectral tail curling. His translucent body phasing in and out of the visible light spectrum.

"Stalking? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't care about chasing the living. But let's say Nightingale is an exception. He's special. But what does he have to do with you?" Phantom eyes Tim suspiciously before diving down floated inches away from Tim face. "Hmmm, I always did think you were the cutest Robin. I was right. Too bad I've got my eyes on someone else now."

And like that he dissappeared.

Now Tim was even more anxious. Phantom was definitely after Danny most likely dead or alive. If something happened to Danny he didn't know what he'd do. Its not safe out there with Phantom hanging around.

Danny was still awake when Tim returned home. He was watching some detective drama he had refused to watch with Tim because he kept guessing the plot during the first few minutes. Which was fair.

"You were out late again. Would it kill you to get some sleep now and then?" Danny sighed stretching.

Tim wanted to say "Actually I think it would. Lets not test it" and banter like always. Maybe even relax and let Danny talk about where show was on.

But Tim couldn't. Not when everything felt so surreal. Danny was just oblivious to the dangerous spirit trying to take his soul and Tim couldn't protect him.

Tim couldn't believe he was thinking this but what if Danny wanted to be with Phantom? Then what?

Tim knew that his emotions were his greatest weakness. When he did control them he does a lot of self-destructive things and he ends up hurting people especially when he's hurt.

He hugged Danny, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Danny can you promise me...that you'll stay here." He didn't care if Danny wanted to be with Phantom just as long as he doesn't leave this world and stop being his light.

The thought of not seeing Danny every day killed him. No more nagging him to eat and drink. No more star gazing. No more TV marathons. No more being dragged to spontaneous trips to the crafts stores. No more hearing the insane conversations with his friends. No more waking up on the couch with a pair of blue-green eyes looking up at him. No more Danny.

Tim felt like his heart was stopping and his stomach dropped.

Danny hugged him back putting a soothing hand on the back of Tim's neck. It was cool to the touch.

"Of course, I'll stay." Danny laughed as if the very notion he'd leave was ridiculous.

Tim's brain seemed to twist in on itself as the cascade of emotions overflowed. That laugh seemed to play over and over in his head echoing non-stop. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Dread, uncertainty, hope, and affection all blended.

Oh no..

Tim was in love.

(This got way too long. I'm not really good a romance as you can tell but I'm trying. Anyway this is a Danny fell first but Tim fell harder situation.)

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coffee shop au, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish wc: 6.7k synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this? You must be crazy, he thinks.

"Isn't this nice? I never knew this café could get any cozier."

"Nice?" Renjun scoffs as he finally gets to his feet. "What about this is nice? We're stuck in, I don't know, what might as well be a Cat 5 hurricane, and you think it's nice?"

You roll your eyes, seemingly unbothered by his sharp tone. "You're so dramatic! I've been in one, you know? While I was on vacation in the States. It was a Cat 2, I think, and I promise this doesn't even come close to that! I mean, as long as we're not asked to evacuate, we should be fine-"

Renjun lets out a loud tsk, cutting you off as he unties his apron rashly, the fabric crumpling in his hand.

Your eyes widen when you register his movements. "You're not actually planning on leaving, are you?"

Renjun scoffs dryly in response. "You think I have a death wish?"

"Honestly? I could never tell when it comes to you."

He glares at you.

You quickly round the counter, successfully trapping him before he could escape to the break room. "Look, I'm sure it won't be too bad! Let's just continue to wait for updates. Coffee?"

"I hate coffee," he deadpans.

"You literally work in a café!" You laugh airily, moving to the teabag jars beside the espresso machines. Despite the heater being on, the coolness from the outside is starting to seep in, and you're sure Renjun could feel it too.

He doesn't say anything but huff under his breath as he leans against the cabinets behind him, taking out his phone from his back pocket. You take it that he's done with the conversation.

For a while, it's silent, the only sound apart from the tinkling of your metal spoon the harsh crashing of raindrops against the window panes outside. You think it's calming, but Renjun seems to think otherwise when you see him flinch from your periphery at the sudden flash that illuminates the room, soon followed by a loud boom of thunder.

Instinctively, you turn to him, but Renjun keeps his eyes fixed to his phone, his lips downturned into his usual frown.

"Did you know that lightning is hotter than the surface of the sun?" You remark, crossing the distance towards him with the mug of tea in your hands. Renjun looks up from his phone at your question, his stare blank, but his right brow raises slightly when he realises what you're offering.

He doesn't make the move to accept the mug as he pockets his phone, opting to cross his arms instead. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head. "Huh?"

He nods towards the steaming mug in your hands. "What are you trying to do?"

"You said you don't like coffee, so I made you tea instead! It's Lemon Balm, known to reduce anxiety. It could also improve one's mood-"

"Yeah, so long as I'm still trapped in here, that's not gonna happen," he mutters, turning to face the window outside.

The rain is still as relentless as ever, the skies dark and gloomy despite it being daytime. If it was any other day, Renjun would have already been out the door, making his way home. A regular eight-hour shift is already treacherous enough on it's own— an eight-hour shift with you, while it's raining, on top of that, has got to be one of the worst things that's ever happened to Renjun in a while, which says a lot considering he's literally living in the same timeline as Lee Donghyuck.

Renjun turns to steal a glance at you, no longer at his side as you busy yourself with doing the dishes. As if just now never happened, you're back to humming to yourself, the song only sounding vaguely familiar to his ears. The cup of tea you made him is left abandoned on the counter, and for a split second he feels guilty for having not accepting it earlier.

You see, it's not like Renjun hates you. He's just indifferent, and that makes a huge difference. He's someone who prefers to keep to himself, a concept that you can't seem to fathom for some reason, and he finds your overtly-positive attitude equal parts annoying and draining. Renjun doesn't hate you— he just hates everything you embody, and that's enough to make him stay away.

"Look what I found!"

The last time Renjun heard your voice has to be around a few hours ago, when he decided to move from the counter to one of the couches in the dining area. It wasn't the most ideal considering the floor-length windows still gave him the perfect view of rain that he hated so much, but his legs were beginning to hurt from standing for so long and he didn't really want to sit on the floor and deal with your small talk any longer.

You must have gotten the hint when you decided to leave him alone, retreating to the break room to do God-knows-what— based on the grin on your face now, Renjun has a feeling that he's going to find out very soon.

You bound towards him, settling next to him with something in your hands. Your eyes instantly land on the sketchbook on his lap, but before you could say anything, like utter out a compliment on his drawing, Renjun snatches the pad away from your sight.

"What?" He grunts, cheeks feeling slightly warm for some reason. He had abandoned his phone some time earlier, deciding to peruse his sketchbook to pass the time. It was a good thing he brought it out everywhere he went— as awful of a situation he's stuck in, at least he has something familiar to keep his sanity in check.

Your grin grows wider (Renjun wonders how that's even possible) before you set a box between the two of you.

"I was bored, right? So I figured I'd clean out the break room to pass the time, and I found this! Johnny must have left it here and forgot about it."

Renjun studies the blue box, the words HALLI GALLI staring back at him in bold, yellow font. Oh, hell no. You're the last person he wants to play a card game with— not just because you're you, but also the fact that he just doesn't fare well with games in general.

It's not like Renjun is bad at them— if anything, it's quite the opposite, but the last time he played Halli Galli, he had almost gotten into a fistfight with his friends (he had to receive a kiss penalty from Donghyuck even though he won because Mark kept making up rules as they went along). Needless to say, all their game nights now require the presence of a moderator (not like that has done much anyway considering Jaemin hates intervening in literally anything ever, so Renjun doesn't know why they still try).

"I'm not playing this with you."

"Aw, why not? It's fun! Even for serious people like you," you tease, but Renjun doesn't laugh. Ignoring him, you continue, "we could make the most of this quiet time together."

"Nothing about today has been quiet," Renjun mutters. He's pretty sure you heard him, but you simply brush it off as you open the box, letting the cards fall on the sofa while you place the bell in the middle.

Renjun huffs, knowing he isn't left with a choice. You're adamant, he realises, and even if he weren't to give in now, he knows he'd have to eventually, and he'd rather deal with this now than later on.

You start the game, putting down a card of two coconuts before you glance at Renjun, waiting for him to complete his turn. He does the same (albeit much less enthusiastic than you), his card flipping to the other side to reveal four strawberries.

The game continues on that way, with you practically at the edge of your seat as you anticipate every next move. You had just put down three bananas, and your eyes are fixed on Renjun's hands as he slowly flips his card to reveal... two bananas.

You yelp, palm quickly outstretching to hit the bell, and despite Renjun's obvious disinterest in the game (or so you thought), you're surprised to learn that he's just as quick, his hand clashing against yours as you fight to ring the bell at the same time.

"I definitely got that one!" You proclaim proudly, to which Renjun scoffs.

"No way, you're barely even on the bell!"

"Nuh-uh, look! Your hand is literally on top of mine!" You wriggle your fingers for good measure, causing Renjun to look down at your hand— both of your hands, which are still on the bell. You were right; while most of your palm is covering the bell, only the tips of his fingers are touching the metal surface, the rest of his skin resting idly on the back of your hand. He's never really noticed how tiny your hands are— it's not like he's that huge of a guy to begin with— and the thought somehow brings an unexplainable flush to his face.

He quickly removes his hand, carding through his deck for the sole purpose of having something to do before passing you a card. "You just got lucky," he mutters, clearing his throat.

You giggle. "No, I'm just that good," you sing, waving the card mockingly in front of his face before putting it together with your deck.

Renjun rolls his eyes. You remind him so much of Donghyuck; it's a wonder how he isn't your best friend.

"I used to play this game a lot when I was younger," you quip randomly in the midst of the next round. You do that a lot, Renjun realises, stating facts he didn't ask for when it gets too quiet. It used to leave him not knowing how to react, but if there's anything Renjun has learnt about you in this limited time you've spent together, is that you don't need a response from him to continue talking, so he doesn't say anything.

"I'm an only child, so visiting my grandparents in Jeju was the only time I'd get to hang out with my cousins. We'd do everything together— even stay up late and wake up early the next morning so no time would be wasted. It was a wonder how we never ran out of things to do," you chuckle to yourself, fiddling with the cards in your hand.

"One time, it started to rain super heavily— kind of like right now, actually— all while we were cycling outside. Instead of seeking shelter, we decided to play in the rain. We got home freezing our toes off and I fell sick the next morning, but it was so worth it. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything else," you trail off softly, and Renjun doesn't miss the twinge of longing in your voice. At this point, the game had been long abandoned, your attention now fixed on the rain outside and Renjun on you. You turn to him, the fond smile still playing on your lips, and that is what causes him to look away, only then realising that he had been staring.

"What about you?"

Renjun's brows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

"You don't seem to like the rain very much."

"Yes, because it inconveniences people. Kind of like the situation we're in right now, don't you think?" His tone comes off as a little snappy, but before Renjun could regret it, you're already beaming at him in response. He wonders if you're ever capable of any other emotion apart from happiness.

"Sure, but look at where it brought us! Two friends, bonding, towards becoming even better friends!"

Nevermind. He doesn't feel bad anymore, not when he remembers that this is who he's dealing with right now. Plus, the term friends is a little bit of a stretch, isn't it? He doesn't know anything about you apart from the fact that— well, you're an only child and that your grandparents live in Jeju. He doesn't even know your last name, and he'd like to think that that should be the minimum requirement before considering someone a friend.

He rolls his eyes as he lazily throws his last card, ready to wrap up the game, only to perk up when he sees his lone strawberry face-up with four of yours. Quickly, he reaches forward to ring the bell, grinning in triumph when he realises you hadn't gone head-to-head this time.

"A-ha! I win!" Renjun smirks proudly, too caught up in his victory to realise that he's smiling. It falters when he notices you staring at him— not in defeat, but something much... softer. It looks similar to when you were recounting your memories with your family in Jeju. It looks like Jaemin when he's scrolling through pictures of his three cats in his gallery. It looks like Mark... when he's on FaceTime with his girl whenever they do long-distance.

Suddenly, Renjun could no longer hear the rain thumping harshly against the window next to him. He could no longer see the lightning that comes in flashes, nor does he flinch at the thunder that follows. Only two words form in his head:

Oh, shit.

lee donghyuck [3:41pm] yowww 🔥🔥🔥 [3:53pm] r u alive? lol [4:02pm] wait no like actually r u???? [4:22pm] pls tell me ur sfae omg im gonna start sobbinf and cryin rn dont evne [4:46pm] HUANG RENJUN [5:12pm] NAWWW we really lost an angel today.... jun i hope ur looking up at us 🙏🙏🙏

huang renjun [5:24pm] UP???

lee donghyuck [5:24pm] oh hey lol [5:24pm] wyd

Renjun utters a curse under his breath as he switches to his phone app, bringing the device to his ear immediately after he dials Donghyuck's number. It rings twice before the boy picks up.

"Injun-ah!" Donghyuck's voice is hoarse— so he wasn't lying about being sick. That doesn't make Renjun any less annoyed, though. "I was so worried-"

"Cut the shit, Hyuck. Did you know?"

Donghyuck is silent before he replies, as though carefully choosing his next words. "... Know what?"

"That she likes me."

"That who likes- oh my God. Did she tell you already?" If it's even possible, Donghyuck's already-naturally nasally voice sounds even more annoying now that he's excited while sick.

"What?" Renjun hisses into his phone, glancing around the room to make sure he wasn't too loud. Granted, he's currently alone in the men's room and he's 90% sure you aren't outside eavesdropping, but he could never be too careful. "So it's true?"

"I mean, only because she was so fucking obvious," Donghyuck snickers before he breaks out into a fit of coughs. "I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."

Renjun groans. "How the hell was I supposed to know? She talks to everyone the same way!"

"Dude, have you seen the way she looks at you? It's like when Jaemin looks at Luke, Lucy, and Lu-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it, alright?" Renjun grumbles. "Shit, what should I do now?"

"Um, nothing? It's not like you're even supposed to know that she likes you," Donghyuck quips plainly. "Dude, why are you even freaking out? Wait- do you like her back?"

"No!" Renjun exclaims, a little too quick for his own liking. Maybe it's because he could practically see the teasing smirk on his friend's lips, or maybe it's just the suggestion that sounds so fucking absurd he had to shut it down immediately. "It's just- look, I've been nothing short of mean to her this entire time so I kinda feel bad, alright? Why would she even like me like that? I mean- is she some sort of masochist, or something?"

Donghyuck guffaws, clearly not about to let his embarrassing stuttering slide. "Okay? And why are you so worried? Since, you know, you don't like her like that and all."

"You're hopeless," Renjun mutters, not bothering to bid Donghyuck goodbye before he hangs up. He should've known that the boy is the last ever person he should seek advice from; Jaemin would have made for a better candidate.

But calling Jaemin now would only be suspicious, and Renjun knows it would only be a matter of time before you would knock on his door to ask if he's doing alright— because that's just who you are as a person.

Huh, maybe he does know you better than he thought.

Renjun has long given up hope that he'd be going home tonight. The thunderstorm is still as relentless as ever, the skies growing even darker now that the sun has set. The café is bathed in a warm light, and under a different circumstance he would've found it cozy.

You're situated behind the counter now, probably having moved there when he was in the restroom. Instead of going back to the couch, Renjun finds himself heading towards you. He doesn't know why.

"Forecast says the rain won't stop until morning." You don't look at him as you say this, and Renjun quickly notices the two cups of instant noodles you're currently busying yourself with, the rising steam swirling lazily in the air. You only turn to him once you're done mixing the noodles, a sympathetic smile on your face. "Looks like we'd have to stay the night."

"You sound oddly sad for someone who claims to love the rain." Against his better judgement, the words slip out of his mouth. Renjun thinks it must have something to do with his conversation with Donghyuck earlier, because why does he feel like he's being weird all of a sudden?

You merely shrug, handing one of the cups to him. This time, he accepts it, and Renjun tries not to flinch at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I still do! If I could, I'd run outside right now and play in the rain, but the news just issued a lightning alert and I'd rather not risk getting struck, you know. Besides, staying inside isn't all that bad," you quip lightheartedly, a small grin on your face as you bring your chopsticks to your lips, blowing on your noodles lightly.

Renjun doesn't say anything, his brows only furrowing at your response. How is it that you're still so cheery even after everything that's happened? It's as though you didn't just find out that you're literally stranded here with no way home until the next morning.

The room illuminates momentarily when thunder strikes, and this time, Renjun does flinch. If he wasn't already holding on to his cup of noodles so tightly, it would have already spilled all over him. Clearly, you notice, and you don't look away quickly enough to act like you didn't.

"You know, I've learnt recently that a lightning bolt is only as wide as your thumb, but it could stretch on for miles," you say as you swallow your food, showing a thumbs-up as you grin at him playfully. "It's kind of crazy, right? How something so small could be so powerful?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes momentarily. "Alright," he mutters, placing his cup on the counter. "Why do you keep doing that?"

You raise your brows, lowering your hand. "Doing what?"

"That. Every time it gets loud and I- I startle, you tell me some random fact, as if it's going to magically drown out the thunder."

"Well, it works, doesn’t it? It’s my secret technique to distract you! And think about it this way: every time it thunders, I get to share a cool tidbit with you. Like how lightning can strike the same place twice!”

"Yeah, because that makes me feel so much better," Renjun mumbles, though he finds that the edge in his voice has softened.

"Oh, relax." You roll your eyes jokingly. "Lightning only often hits tall structures like trees or skyscrapers, so you’re safe here with me.”

He scoffs. "Tall? Is that a jab?"

You gape, and you fear that you've struck a nerve within him. "N-No! I mean, I'm just saying! You're probably just not tall enough to worry about it, unless you're like, I don't know, Yao Ming or something," you start to ramble. "Even then, did you know that the tallest man in the world is a whole foot taller than him? I guess he would have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning, then, wouldn't he? Or not, considering, well, you know, he's dead. I don't-"

You're cut off when you feel a palm cover your lips, and your eyes widen at the contact. Renjun stares at you, unimpressed.

"You," he starts. "Talk too much. You know that?"

With his hand still over your mouth, you're unable to reply— even if it wasn't, you doubt you could, anyway. His skin against yours brings a warmth to your neck and cheeks, and you could only hope he couldn't see how bright red you're sure you are.

You nod your head slowly.

Renjun scoffs, finally dropping his hand as he glances to the window behind you. If you weren't already staring at him so intently, you would've missed the slight upturn of his lips. "Wow. So not only am I terrified of the storm, I'm short, too?" He shakes his head, half-amused.

"Hey, you said it, not me!" You exclaim defensively, feeling much more relieved now that you've seen him smile. You wonder if he's aware of how pretty his smile is. "Though for the record, I think you're the perfect height!" You pause, "f-for dodging lightning, of course!"

Renjun didn't like how the first half of your sentence made his heart beat faster. If only he were any closer, he'd hear your heart beating just as fast, too.

"You kids hang on tight, alright? There are blankets in the break room if you need them— and keep me updated!"

You've been in contact with your boss since the lockdown announcement hours ago, and despite your last message telling him that you and Renjun are alright, it seems that it's just in Johnny's nature to be overly-concerned as his worried face now flashes on your screen.

"We're alright, Boss, we promise!" You say for the umpteenth time. "This shop's stable enough to withstand a strike or two I'm sure, so we'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"Don't joke about that," Renjun hisses, nudging your arm with his elbow. He turns to the screen again. "We'll be sure to give you hourly updates."

At this, Johnny seems a little more at ease. You bid your boss goodbye, and the café soon falls into a silence, with only the humming of the lights and distant rumbling in the skies to keep you company.

"So... should we get ready for bed?" You ask, slapping your thighs as you stand up from the couch. For some reason, it feels awkward. You've long grown accustomed to Renjun and his lack of words, but somewhere along the way today, it seems that the air between you two has shifted— for better or for worst, you couldn't really tell— and you're not sure if you could salvage it.

You've always liked Renjun— of course you have— but today, it feels more impossible to contain your feelings with nobody else around. You like to think that you were good at hiding it all this while (despite what Donghyuck says), but right now, you're not so sure if you could spend a second longer with Renjun without accidentally blowing your own cover.

"I'll go grab the blankets," he says quietly, snapping you out of your reverie before ushering away to the break room. You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, turning around to face the couch. Surely, your feelings could wait, because right now, there's only one thing that matters more: your sleeping arrangement.

You bend down to grab the couch by the armrest, pulling it further towards the middle of the dining area. With it being originally situated right by the window, you figure it wouldn't make for such an ideal (or safe) makeshift bed.

"What are you doing?"

You huff, returning to your original height to see Renjun by the door of the break room, a bundle of plaid blankets in his hands. He has a brow raised— you notice he does that a lot when looking at you— and you laugh meekly.

"Just, you know. Wouldn't wanna get struck by lightning, or anything like that."

He rolls his eyes (again, something he does a lot when it comes to you) as he makes his way towards you, letting the blankets fall on the sofa. "You can take the couch. Probably should lay one of these out first, though. Not sure how many butts have been on there."

Usually, you would have laughed at his comment, but this time, you find yourself tilting your head in confusion instead. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

Renjun shrugs. "The chair works fine for me."

You frown. Taking one of the blankets, you spread it out before letting the fabric fall over the couch. "The chair? There's no way you'd be comfortable like that! Look, the couch is big enough for the both of us. We'd have to stay seated, of course, but that's better than sleeping in a chair, right? Or would you rather we take turns?"

Renjun scoffs. "What? We're not in an apocalypse. There's no need for night watch."

Still, you stall, and it causes him to sigh. Renjun steps towards you, gently planting his hands on your shoulders before guiding you down onto the sofa. "Gosh, you're stubborn. Just take the couch, alright? It's not like I'm planning on sleeping, anyway."

The last part of his sentence comes out in a low murmur, but you still catch it.

"What do you mean you're not planning on sleeping?" You echo, and based on the flash of panic that crosses his face, you're sure he hadn't mean to let that one slip.

"I mean, with the storm and all," Renjun explains stiffly, glancing away. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that noise."

You gape slightly before your lips transform into a grin. "Could I interest you in another fun fact, then?"

Renjun groans loudly, and you find yourself giggling at his response. And when you hear the low chuckle that escapes his lips, you find your heart swelling at the sound of his laugh.

"Seriously, let's just share, alright? Look, I'll even stay up with you! I won't talk if you don't want me to, though."

Renjun finally gives in, sitting at the other end of the couch. "When has that ever stopped you?"

Noting the lack of bite in his voice, you grin. "Touché."

Eventually, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and for the first time in a while, you don't feel the need to make conversation. You've never been one to be able to stay quiet for very long; clearly, Renjun is someone who does, and today, you learn that it really isn't all that bad.

Renjun steals a glance towards you, but you have your eyes fixed on the rain outside, a small smile still tugged on your lips. It looks like you're watching a movie, the floor-length windows a giant movie screen, and the flashes of lightning the different scenes bouncing off your features. He must have missed the thunder that comes afterwards, only realising it when you turn to him with that stupid, pretty smile still on your lips.

"Uh," Renjun stutters, having been caught off-guard at the sudden eye contact. He quickly looks away. "You don't have to do this."

You tilt your head. "Do what?"

"Stay up with me. You should get some rest."

You laugh, and Renjun wonders if it's always sounded this beautiful. "Don't be silly! I don't mind. I know you're gonna chide me for saying this, but it's kinda nice. I can't remember the last time I stayed up to watch the rain," you pause before turning to him. "You're probably gonna hate me forever for making you endure both a thunderstorm and my chatter in one night," you say teasingly.

"That's not true," he says quietly, only belatedly hoping that you hadn't heard him. Clearing his throat, Renjun turns to his right where his messenger bag lies, taking out his sketchbook he had haphazardly stuffed inside earlier. He flips it open, feeling your curious eyes on him as he looks for the page he had been working on.

"The rain looks better on paper for me," he explains awkwardly. "You know, since we're on the topic of likes and dislikes."

Renjun feels you scoot towards him, and he hates that he could feel the warmth emitting from your side even despite the blanket that envelops your shoulders.

"That's so pretty," you say in awe as you study the drawing. Despite it being so simple, nothing but a rough sketch of a window pane covered with rain drops, you still find yourself marvelling at the intricacy of it all. You could barely even write a whole essay legibly, yet here Renjun is, crafting a whole masterpiece with nothing but a blue ballpoint pen. "I wish I had an ounce of your talent. You're amazing, Renjun."

Even though he's no stranger to getting compliments for his works, it somehow feels different coming from you. It's probably because of how intimate it is— you and him, cramped on a couch in a barely-lit café with your arm pressing into his side— that's all there is to it, right?

But as he turns to you, taking in the stars that seem to dance in your eyes and the pink hue that dusts your cheeks even in the dark, Renjun starts to wonder if maybe, it's more than that. If maybe, the way his heart is stuttering isn't because of the setting, but you— only you.

With the way Donghyuck's question from earlier still plays in the back of his head like a broken record, Renjun knows that it's the truth.

✦ ✦ ✦

With it being late into the night, the two of you lapse into silence, too tired to keep a conversation going, but still very much awake— as though under an unspoken agreement to not fall asleep.

The rain has reduced significantly and the thunder has lessened, nothing but an occasional low rumble in the distance, but every now and then you'd still feel Renjun tensing from next to you.

“You know, statistically, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than win the lottery,” you mumble sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Renjun lets out a soft chuckle. “Comforting,” he replies, though there’s no real edge to his voice. “So, basically, I’m doomed.”

“Not while I’m here,” you say through a yawn. “Consider me your good luck charm.”

Renjun shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his expression now, something warm and unspoken passing between you. The couch creaks slightly as you both shift to get more comfortable. Your cheek brushes slightly against his arm, but Renjun doesn't pull away. In your half-conscious state, you barely feel his arm circle behind you, pulling you closer towards him as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Then I guess I'd have to keep you around for every storm."

Click.

That's the sound you wake to, the sun that hits your eyelids being the second thing to rouse you from your slumber. You stir, your cheek brushing against something soft that only makes you want to sleep even more, but the sound of suspicious giggling causes you to open your eyes.

Your bleary vision lands on Donghyuck, who's currently standing before you with a cheshire-like grin, his phone in his hands.

"Don't you two look cozy?" He coos, tapping on his screen once more before his phone produces another click.

Finally registering what's happening, you jolt awake, only belatedly realising the oh-so-soft material to be Renjun's clothed chest. You must have fallen asleep on him sometime during the middle of the night, and you can't figure out what's more embarrassing: that, or the fact that Donghyuck has proof of said... intimacy.

"Lee Donghyuck! You better not post that!" You yelp, jumping off the couch to reach for his phone, only to fail as he waves his arm in the air, cackling manically.

Renjun finally stirs at the noise. “What’s going on?” he mumbles groggily, only to frown when he registers what you and Donghyuck are doing.

You whip to turn to Renjun, almost tripping in the process, throwing him an apologetic glance. “N-Nothing! Just- uh, a little misunderstanding!”

Donghyuck lowers his arm, tongue poking out of his lips as he types rapidly on his phone. “Oh, I’m definitely sharing this. Aw, you two are so adorable!”

Renjun groans. "Fuck off, Hyuck, seriously." He stands up, picking up his bag before stuffing all his belongings inside. "Ignore him. Let's go."

You giggle, your own embarrassment seeping away when you realise just how flustered he is. "Renjun, wait-"

"Nope, not waiting," he mutters, the tip of his ears noticeably pink as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "We're leaving before this asshole gets anymore material." He shoots Donghyuck a glare, who only waves a hand mindlessly.

"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not delusional. Seriously, guys, it's painful watching you pretend like you're not into each other!" He cries dramatically, and Renjun's eyes widen before he forces another warning stare to his friend.

"Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Hyuck," he mutters, hoping his voice didn't waver too much, before quickly grabbing your arm and leading you to the door. "We're leaving."

"Have a good day, lovebirds!" Donghyuck sings, and Renjun flashes him a middle finger with his free hand without turning around.

You couldn't help but to laugh as you let him drag you out to the sidewalk, the cold outside air hitting your skin for the first time since yesterday. It's no longer raining, but the streets are still wet from the overnight storm, and it helps in cooling your own burning cheeks.

Renjun finally releases you when you're a little further away from the café, turning to face you with a sigh. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles, his cheek still painted red, and you wonder how it's possible for him to be this cute, grumpiness and all.

"It's okay." You bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin, and Renjun smiles at you weakly.

There's a moment of silence between you two before Renjun clears his throat awkwardly. "He's right, you know?"

"Hm? About what?" You ask, slightly taken aback by his sudden soft tone.

Renjun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his voice quiet. “About… me being into you. Wait, that came out weird." He stumbles over his words, and you merely beam at him as you give him time to compose himself.

"It's just— I know I haven't been the nicest to you, and I know it may sound crazy, but I had this whole revelation yesterday that I do have feelings for you— and I promise this isn't just a fleeting thing because of the storm— I genuinely think you're really cool."

You don't say anything, only a soft smile playing on your lips, and that causes Renjun to panic.

"I mean, I know I've been a jerk to you, and I know this isn't an excuse, but I just didn't know how to-"

You cut him off by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, effectively halting his words. His mouth hangs open slightly, eyes wide as he stares at you in disbelief, his face flushing.

When you pull back, you couldn't help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “You're rambling,” you tease with a playful smile.

He coughs out a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry. Guess I was." The smile stays on his face this time as he meets your eyes. "So... does that mean you're not compelled to the idea of going on a date with me?"

"Nope. Not at all." You rock between your heels and toes, already feeling the excitement bubbling in your chest. You like to think that you're doing a much better job at keeping your composure, but you're sure anyone could see just how bright red you are. "I think I'd really like that, actually."

Renjun's eyebrows raise before his expression eases into one of relief, and for the first time, a large smile graces his lips. You think you might just have a new favourite thing now— one that easily tops the rain.

"Yeah? Good. Because I think I'd really like that, too."

[razztazzel]

Dandys

SOOO… I’m now realizing I’ve never told anyone about this au!! I don’t even know if you guys know this is an au… LORE DROP!!! I usually call this au the marketable plushie au since it doesn’t have an exact name, but it’s still “Dandy’s World” regardless

So Basically, The main toons look differently than their canon looks which are kid friendly for marketing and TV shows, The handlers sometimes make the Original variant mains watch the smaller toons, Marketable dandy gets to run the shop with the Original (to the au) dandy but he’s too small to fit over the counter… hehe he’s so cute, anyway there’s no scary stuff no ichor problems no dandy fucking everything up and killing everyone, so to cut it short the ichor operation hasn’t happened yet

Dandy’s actually really strict with them, He wears gloves not only because he’s a gardener but because his claws are actually really sharp and he doesn’t want to hurt someone, And because every time he takes his gloves off toons are quick to ask omg do you paint ur nails… besides the point He’s keeping the little ones safe, Isn’t that cute!!! his gloves are like those thick rubber ones so he can’t accidentally break them.. I imagine the marketable toons are somewhere around 3 feet and the The original variants about 5 feet or a tad taller than that, like Astro and sprout is, For specific’s Astro is 5’6 and sprout is 5’4

So they’re not technically taller than grown adults but most likely taller than some short ones that’s for sure.. Their heights are lowkey the reasons why the marketable plush toons were made, And because sprout is too sarcastic for his own good…And they can’t even do anything about it because he purposely taught marketable sprout how to be just as sarcastic

The marketable variants are like the exact same as they are in the game! — And the mains are the only ones with an original variant, everyone else without the main rarity, besides dandy look the exact same as if they do canonically!

I draw this au ALLLLLLLL the time :3 I even drew an updated version of their older redesigns, though I’m too lazy to color it meeehhhhh, some changed a lot, some changed a little, and some didn’t change at all

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults. 

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard. 

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like. 

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow. 

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you. 

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady." 

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes. 

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance. 

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times. 

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock. 

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?" 

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in." 

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them. 

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?" 

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury. 

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all. 

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him. 

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout. 

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips. 

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing. 

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes. 

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep. 

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job. 

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then. 

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?" 

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up. 

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two. 

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

[starzblvd]

Me Espresso.ᐟ

Ellie thinks coffee tastes disgusting, but you taste delicious. Do u guys get my fire references in here, hope you babes enjoy 🍽️ Band!Ellie Bsf!ellie college!au

Hot summer nights while having your knees digging your weight into the carpet floor of your best friends small dorm room was starting to become weekly routine. Making band tees with cheap markers for her band that had its fair amount of supporters, somehow they’d sell out every time they performed. It was probably because there’d only be like 20 shirts that actually looked good enough to put out for sale.

Sitting next to you was Ellie with half of a bun she struggled to keep it together had some strands fall out and onto the back of her neck. You could smell the perfume on her, you convinced her to buy it that one time she’d agreed to come shopping with you. Wanting to be helpful you had to show her the right way to wear it, by spraying it on your wrist to then rubbing it into her collarbone, just to be helpful of course.

Holding up a finished shirt Ellie grins into the cocky face you’ve gotten to love the look of,

“Oh they’re gonna love this,”

“what your 300 Spotify listeners?”

“Ouch,” Ellie looks at you playing heartbroken to then throw the shirt right at your face. It was always banter like this, with the very few times the lines almost blurred to get somewhere further. Staying away gets harder when being with her was so natural.

“Just for that I’m so not coming to your concert tomorrow.”

“Hey hey hey I need my number one fan there, plus we’re getting ice cream after.”

You’d become a groupie to her, always front lining to every concert she was able to catch a venue in, which were basically all bars. When she’d look below to you under the neon lights playing guitar it felt like such a special moment only between you and Ellie. No crowd no other band mates, as if you knew what she was thinking of and that she wanted you too. Some of your plans started to circle around her now that she was being a bit more discovered.

”You aren’t going to talk to your fan girls?”

“Nah, I’d rather spend my time with you. You know?” Staring at each other awkwardly stopped being so awkward when they’d happen so much, it’s was perfectly normal.

And with opportunity you got to be with Ellie you already knew you’d take it. As little as you knew she was wrapped around with whatever you had been involved in too, stuck and feeding off your sweetness like a bee.

June.21.24

Just like every concert you shared your special moment, no one else can say they had Ellie’s direct attention during multiple songs. This time it was more of an outside stage with sand below you. Yellow hued string lights draped above the stage and more along the audience area. The heat was really getting to Ellie, making her glow from sweat. The black T-shirt she picked out only made her condition worse. The face framing bangs she cut herself were sticking to the side of her face.

She wasn’t even singing, but being under your watch scorched her hotter. To save herself from embarrassment she mainly looked down to her guitar playing notes, but she made a mistake looking at you when a lyric of a song she made with you in thought came up.

Tell me you never wanna lose me

Cuz I know when you call you call for me

She might’ve been a little out of it when helping writing the song, but it became too late when Dina saw the scrunched up paper and kept insisting on making it an official song for a newer album.

To you it was just another lyric that was written by anyone but Ellie. If only you knew how much she relates to your desperation to be with you in every way and any position she could. Whether your batting of eyelashes at her was intentional or not her finger slipped making an unplanned squeak slip through.

‘Fuck this is so bad she probably thinks I’m shit at playing now’

Lucky for Ellie it was the final song anyways and she could get far away from the crowd and you. Other people clapped upon their leave and when they finished their set list you knew exactly where to meet her.

”You ever going to do more than eye her when we’re up there?” Dina was putting away the instruments back to take home with help from Jessie.

“What are you even saying I don’t do that,” Ellie scoffs then sits down on a blue deflated bean bag that who knows how long it’s been in this back room.

“Oh you know what I’m talking about, your friend zone is taking longer than your time with Cat.” She crossed her arms waiting for another excuse to why she hasn’t done anything after a continued semi dating friendship since freshman year.

“She’s nothing like Cat that’s why, if I lose feelings for her after getting rejected that’s one thing but losing her completely because I fucked it up is different.” Her constant fear of never getting to be near you again because of some feelings she couldn’t stop screwed her over with overthinking everything.

In her journal it was the same thing, “She liked my shirt today, I don’t want to look weird and over wear it now, but not under wear it now. Unless she’d like to see it more often or maybe she likes my style in general she’d like me in anything?? Fucking hate this gay stuff and whys it so hard.”

One of the two large metal doors swings open with you appearing, with the smile you wore she had engraved into her mind with a hot rod of metal after sketching you a few more times she’d probably ever admit. Ellie got up and cut the short distance and accepted you into her arms trying to not look like a desperate looser that flushes over a simple hug. Her ears clammy hands didn’t make her look exactly so hot and relaxed though.

“You did amazing El’s,”

“You think so?” She lit up into a smile under your praise, no matter how many times you give it to her mind melts.

“Except for the part where she messed up on the bridge.” Ellie shot a quick mean look at Jessie, but he just turned a cold shoulder before turning away.

“At least I didn’t bump into Dina’s drums 10 times,”

While Ellie kept bickering back and forth with Jessie she still held onto you, this felt like an opening to try at doing something.

A kiss on the check seemed harmless and innocent enough to take back in the case Ellie thought it was totally disgusting. Raising your head up towards her cheek nearing the corners of her smile, pressing your lips to a pout Ellie brought her face back in your direction landing the small peck on her lips. Ellie locked in place while you pulled away, not that you wanted to, but felt too embarrassed to start a kiss you didn’t know how to finish.

“El’s ‘m so sorry, you just moved out of nowhere and-“

“No, yeah mistakes happen, it’s chill or whatever,”

Her shit faced expression wasn’t helping the full pink flush saturating deeper on her face. Ellie lowered her head to wipe the bottom of her nose trying to forget the way your lips felt, your lipgloss was still sweet on her and so was the taste of it on her tongue wiping her lips clean.

Now it was your turn to feel scared and conflicted. It was too silent in the room even with the chatter of everyone else doing their own things outside. Taking back the small kiss wasn’t so easy now that it was done and got taken up a notch further.

She dropped her arms from both of your sides, looking away from you because looking at you right now felt like looking directly into the sun.

“Ellie you should start up the car we’re done here,” Jessie throws the keys at her giving her a slight knowing look to let her go and collect herself back together.

She didn’t even say anything, walked away without a goodbye or convincing enough reassurance that would calm your nerves.

“I’m gonna go home too, see you guys.” You were left with only your actions to think about. Ellie’s response to an accidental kiss made her ran away in the other away how could’ve you imagined it going any of other way? Feeling guilt and shame were the only emotions you could feel, rethinking the crush you’ve denied yourself from paying attention to and that it should’ve stayed that way.

Instead of paying attention to the kiss Ellie let her actions drive themself, not wanting to think at all. Until she hit herself with the car door, why did I act so grossed out? Making different scenarios of how it could’ve played out a million times better she thrust the keys into the ignition.

She dug out her cracked old red iPhone from her butt pocket and threw it into the passenger side. It hit something else than the leather seat, one of the lipglosses you always carry around abandoned alone. Ellie reached for it and saw the shade label, Glassy Expresso.

It sounded like the taste in her mouth from earlier, a taste you stole from her too soon. Unscrewing the lid she contemplated just trying it on. My lips are dry anyways, she swiped the applicator across her lips twice to get an even coat and rubbed it in with her lips. Some of it slipped onto her tongue, again. If only the taste of you could come along with the gloss.

Lmk if you guys want a pt.2♡🍒

[bitchlessdino]

nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre:  smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting. 

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart. 

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers. 

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine. 

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?” 

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.” 

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground. 

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.” 

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious. 

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside. 

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought. 

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously. 

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace. 

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?” 

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side. 

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

[bunny-jpeg]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.

you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.

he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.

while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.

you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"

max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"

you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.

"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.

max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.

you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.

the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.

you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.

he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.

you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.

you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.

you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.

he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount

you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."

he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.

you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."

he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.

[citrinae]

forgive me, for i love being bad for you.

sanji x reader (ft. platonic!zoro)

summary; everyone agrees that you and roronoa zoro are like two peas in a pod: cool, unbothered, hitting pubs on the regular. everyone, except your boyfriend sanji—who’d try anything to distract you from your visibly chaotic lifestyle. even visiting a potion shop. or: sanji needs to get out of his head in four acts. 

contents; angsty vibes, lowkey love triangle, miscommunication™, abandonment issues, drinking, sex pollen, a little dubcon tbh, piv, oral sex (both receiving), facesitting, multiple orgasms, creampie, college/modern!AU, witch!sanji, jealous!sanji, afab!reader, wc: 7.3k (wheezes), mdni. spooky carnival is still in town, go catch it if you’re in for a bad time.

masterlist.

i. 

Zoro sets his glass back on the table with a forceful clink. There’s liquor rolling to the corner of his lips. 

“I still don’t get it,” annoyance hangs from his voice as he speaks. “How the fuck you put up with him?”

Your reflection looks back at you from the amber in your glass. 

“He’s sweet and he cooks for me,” you mean it. Despite Zoro’s lack of trust in your newfound romance, slightly taking to repulse, Sanji has been nothing but a dream to you. Resting his cheek on yours as you were watching some movie you borrowed for the night, swinging hands as he took you grocery shopping. Everything about him buzzes with the type of comfortable affection one meets in magazines, or in Christmas commercials, and you’re sure to fall harder for him by the day. “Have you taken the time to cook for someone you dated?”

“Yeah?” Zoro washes the accusation away with another sip. “You into cooks?”

“Apparently.”

“‘s he a good cook?”

A smile, prideful. “Nothing but a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Christ, you’re even starting to sound like him,” he teases further. “Putting random words together and expecting to make sense.”

“He’s a good cook, Zoro,” you tell him again. 

There’s a pause. 

“No kidding.”

At a loss of what to say, you clumsily try to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

“As long as you like him or whatever,” defeated, waving his hand. “Just keep him outta my sight, will you?”

“Deal,” you say, downing your drink as you do. Bitterness lingers on the roof of your mouth, throat burned and numbed out. Suddenly your mind wanders somewhere else. “Care for another round?”

Zoro’s smirk is sly, devilish. “Now that’s more like my language.”

So you get yourselves a second refill that turns into a third, and a forth, until there’s no more use to bother about keeping count. Your surroundings seem to start whirling for a second. You close your eyes, then open them. And everything gets back into place.

On the day you met him, somewhere around campus, basking in the sun like a stray cat on trim lawn, you and Zoro hit off immediately. Scruffy hair, bomber jackets, eyes looking like he’s about to fall asleep any minute, Zoro is the type to never dwell on things for longer they’re worth. Always a guy of instinct, speaking truths others might opt to stay away from. On the other hand you have a knack for chaos he easily complements, so for over a year now he’s been a good and loyal friend to you, your time together something neither of you would regret or give up on.

He’s the one who introduced you to Sanji. Now it’s clearer to you that Sanji had most probably asked him to. Neither of them expected it when you agreed to go out with him, “It’s just a fucking date, chill out. Free meal you know?”; and to your own surprise, your heart skipped a good beat when you saw him that night.

Sanji. Annoying, perverted, absolutely fucking delusional Sanji, lighting up a cigarette in front of his car. Light fell nicely on his rings as he kept a hand around a flower bouquet—the pretentious kind, with a wrapper and ribbon and all. Red button-up, black jeans, coat. Heart-warming smile. 

Everything about the scene felt like something taken from those really sugary rom-coms you and Zoro make fun of when drunk. Yet somehow you admired Sanji for putting in the effort. His hand quivered on the door handle, “You look sensational, my dear.” Adjusting your seat belt, you told him that he didn’t look so bad himself, and by the pink crossing his face as you did, you deduced he might not be used to having flattery thrown his way. 

At dinner he told you he was raised in a small restaurant down east, and that they sold soy wax candles and herbs right next door. Wiping up your mouth with a handkerchief, you tried to come up with a quip around it, “And you stocked healing crystals and runes as well, right?” But then he just propped his hand in a palm, a wide smile blooming on his face that made you unsure whether he was playing along with the narrative or simply felt happy to talk about his past. “Sometimes we did, yeah. But we were more into the culinary side of things.”

When, a couple days later, you told Zoro that you and Sanji had spent the night together, he didn’t hesitate to let you know that he thought it a bad idea. He warned that Sanji was weird—not in the sense that he had a wandering eye or spent a rent-worth on cigarettes. He was simply weird. Fingers drumming on wood, “Caught him mustering some nonsense crap to a jar once. Like he was enchanting it or something.” Soon you were reliving the conversation you had on your first date. “You mean he’s, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Zoro didn’t catch it. “Who?” he said, and you waved him off. “Nevermind.”

The sneer he wore back then was similar to the one he makes now, seeing the blue light of your phone fill the room with a notification. 

“It’s him,” you say, fingers instinctively hovering to your lock screen. Neither can you help looking at the hour displayed in blinding white: 01:51 A.M. 

Zoro keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell him I’m bringing you to your dorm.”

You text; the reply comes in a beat. 

“He asks if you even know where my dorm is.”

“Of course I—” Zoro clicks his tongue. Then he snatches the phone from your hands and presses ‘record’. “Of course I know where to go you jackass,” he snarls, throat pulsing. 

Taking your phone back, you check the message popping in not long after. “He says he’s coming over.”

“Fine then. Whatever.” It’s low. He sounds irritated. “Let’s pay and we’ll wait for your princess outside.”

And that’s exactly what you do; take care of the bill, grab your jackets and throw yourselves out. Feeling the crisp air on your cheeks, you realise you’re so much drunker than you’ve felt inside. You’re light, feathery, persistently on the verge of being blown out. Concrete flounders around you and you have to put in some additional effort to maintain your balance. Time becomes harder for you to register or something Zoro has just said made you cackle for too long because here is Sanji, your sweet boyfriend Sanji, parking his car not too far away from your forms. You can tell he put on himself the first things he saw in the wardrobe. His hair is slightly disordered, his step heavy as he rushes to your direction. 

“Evening Angel,” Sanji chirps, pulling you into a hug, and you cannot help but dig your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing your eyes, glad to finally have something to lean your weight onto. His tone drops when he looks at Zoro. “Mosshead.”

Zoro’s hands are sunk into his pockets. “Told you I got everything under control.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t believe you.” Sanji is sardonic. “Looking at the state of this slump, seems like I was right not to.”

“Not my idea to come here, bitch,” Zoro drones. His breath fogs the air as he speaks. “Next time get your head outta your ass and listen to people before running your mouth.”

Some of Sanji’s cologne still hangs from the soft fabric. “This was the only place that allowed us to play cards,” you say against his chest.

“Aha,” he flattens his hand across your back. “At least tell me you played for money and bled this loser dry. Tomorrow will get yourself something pretty with stupid mosshead pocket change.”

“You done talking?” Zoro says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Sanji’s lips press into a thin line. He’s slowly urging you towards the car. “We’ll be off in a beat.”

“We didn’t play for money,” you tilt your head to look at him, trying to match his steps as you distance yourselves from the pub. 

“What a pity.” Between wry and affectionate. 

You raise a loose fist in the air. “Till the next one, Zoro!”

“See ya daredevil,” Zoro shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Tuck your princess in and give him a sweet goodnight’s kiss, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Sanji heaves, closes the door behind you. 

On the way to your dorm, he doesn’t ask about how many you had or lecture about being alone—with Zoro—late at night. Why would he? He’s aware this is a part of you, and he’d lie if he said he doesn’t melt watching the glimmer in your eye and your lips curling into a wicked smirk each time you tell him how much fun you had. Though he does worry about you, sometimes, when you willingly throw yourself in all kinds of dangerous shenanigans. Seeing your head slipping down the backrest, silently Sanji casts a spell on your eyelids to make sure you sleep unbothered until tomorrow morning. Tucks some strands of hair behind your ear, yet his eyes are still fixed on the road, and his hands are both rested on the steering wheel. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so exhibited with his magic had you been awake. But for now he takes the liberty to carry himself as if he were alone or in the company of the shitty bunch at the Baratie that taught him the craft to begin with. Foliage and plains and cottages move remotely in his wingspan while he continues to think of you. Your smile, your laughter, the nonchalant way you coil your arms around his own to show you around the places that you have so many stories to tell about. To him you are a bundle of new experiences and joy, something pleasant and airy he wishes to emanate himself someday. Always honest, always so easy to approach. Dandelion seeds whirling loosely in the wind. 

But the one thing he cannot seem to take his mind from is that having a bent for partying also means having a bent for Zoro. 

Lazy, shabby, perpetually absent-minded Zoro. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

Sanji has never really liked the guy, for reasons he doesn’t have the time or energy to list. Tolerance is perhaps too much to describe the compromise he’s willing to take; but he attempts it, for your sake. Because no matter how he tries looking at things Zoro adds something to this life of yours he certainly doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to make up for. No matter how well you fit in his arms, early in the morning with sleep still heavy on your lashes, throaty voice narrating a dream so bizarre it plucks a laughter from his lips, the nights will always be reserved to someone he wouldn’t even bother to understand. Because he doesn’t want to. 

Window rolls down; he lights up a cigarette. 

Moments pass. His car stops by a pair of victorian-esque gates he doesn’t take long to recognise. He carries you on his back all the way to your dorm room, putting to sleep everyone he stumbles upon as he does; he isn’t supposed to be here, and certainly you aren’t supposed to return this late at night. He’s thankful you chose to sleep in the bottom bed. With this thought in mind he arranges your pillow and places you under the covers, slowly, gently almost like you were made of glass. From his tote bag he picks out a flask and a piece of paper he scribbles on: “for your hangover—sanji <3” 

ii.

The sun bleeds through stained glass in dazzling shades of pink and blue and yellow. Wind chimes, cluttered shelves. Dusted books. The air is thick with the smell of wood and incense. Sanji picks at the fingers that he keeps tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He isn’t allowed to smoke in here, but fuck does he need a drag. Light catches across the variety of bottles and jars lined up in front of him, all displayed in eye-catching colours and labelled in alphabetical order. 

Would I? He tries his best not to pick up the light blue piece lingering a little too at hand not to be a work of fate. Should I? Sanji kisses his teeth; he takes the thing into his palm. 

There’s a piece of paper attached by lace ribbon. Writing is dainty, yet small and hardly intelligible.

Truth shows itself in wicked colours;

betrayal, freedom, promise.

For they who shall drink this wicked brew

take a night in their beloved’s embrace.

Is their bond seen pure and true,

the Garden sees no place for others.

Like the first lovers on Earth— 

runaways from Eden, they shall be.

Sanji takes a deep breath. Flips the flask on all sides, reading and rereading, biting his inner cheek. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. He does, with all his heart. And yet he cannot help but shamelessly wonder: if Zoro hadn’t introduced you, would you and him have ended up together? Does he stand in the way of something which is meant to be? “I’m pathetic, fuck.”

He tastes blood. 

Talking to you about this is out of the question, since that would mean admitting Zoro is a better match for you. Plus, honesty is one of the things he admires about you. He’s sure you wouldn’t cheat. To bring this up would only lead to conflict and the sort of disappointment he’d rather choke to death than see reflected in your eyes. 

“This shit is ridiculous.”

The flask makes a frail sound as Sanji throws it in his basket. Stomping the floor with his foot, a cold sweat bobbing at his nape, at checkout he’s greeted by a gorgeous woman dressed in a velvet dress and speaking with a faint voice he doesn’t care enough to pay attention to. There’s a black cat sleeping on a shelf behind her. 

“Is this everything you needed?” she asks, carefully placing the goods in a paper pag. 

Sanji drops some cash on the counter and leaves without saying a thing to her. 

iii. 

“What do you think, my dear?” Sanji asks you on the other side of the table. The potion he bought a week ago forms a bump inside the pocket of his dress pants. 

You want to be sure of your answer, so you take another forkful of your food, still steaming hot and methodically arranged on the plate. It’s good. No, it’s tremendously good, better than you imagined it to be. 

“Sanji, this is incredible,” you say, not allowing yourself the time to fully swallow. “And I’m not only saying this because I like complimenting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His face brightens, a mix of pride and the unpretentious joy he takes from cooking to other people. However he still looks to be preoccupied by something else you never find the right timing to ask about. 

Embarrassment hitching up your throat, you drag your fork across ceramic. Sanji stays silent for a moment; his plate is barely touched. In hopes to escape the tension, your eyes wander to look at his curtains, his shelves, an enframed picture with a gruff old man and a much younger Sanji cheerily holding out a slice of lemon cheesecake. The apartment is small, but tasteful, with decent flooring and a rent anyone your age can afford. White walls, light blue cushioning. A closed balcony where he grows basil and rosemary. 

You are going to sleep over tonight. It’s not that you've never done this before; have dinner together before deciding on a movie you’ll never get to watch because his hand grips on your thigh a little too tightly and your knee presses itself somewhere too bold to go unnoticed. But something feels different now, you cannot quite tell why. He feels different. With his avoidant eyes and stuttering words and index finger that frequently climbs to scratch an eyebrow. 

“If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve chosen a café, you know?” you hear yourself saying, arms folded. 

“What?” His chair scrapes the floor; he tries not to cringe from the sound.  “No, no.” It's ferm. It's rushed. “Why would you think that?” goes unsaid. 

Fingertips digging into the table, Sanji doesn't know how he ended up on his feet. He takes the opportunity to take the seat next to yours, plate and cutlery clanking along as he does. “No one's breaking up with anyone, sweetheart,” words fight their way through the knot in Sanji's throat. 

Sanji shoves his fork in his food which now looks less parmigiana and more like something a primary school kid would make for their art class assignment. Fuck, adding wasted food to his trainwreck fog of thoughts is the last thing he wants for tonight. After he swallows it down, his tone finally relaxes. 

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, now that we’re soon to move up to dessert. Something I'd like us to try,” he says. 

It registers quickly. “Like in bed?”

“It might sound a little weird, though.” Sanji avoids meeting your eyes. His chest rises and falls in a disjointed rhythm as he tries his best to empty his plate. 

“I like weird,” you say, propping your head on a fist, curiosity pushing your mouth a little higher. 

He cannot help but mimic your smile. “Well I bought us something.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Not wasting any more time, he pulls the flask out of his pocket, displays it on the dinner table—clear liquid bottled in cerulean crystal, ribbon unfastened and label removed. Your eyes widen. “I was doing some grocery shopping, and stumbled upon this,” Sanji explains. 

You take it in your hands, blinking, carefully not to damage the contents. “Is this an aphrodisiac?” 

“You can call it that,” he says. “It stimulates the senses, so everything should feel a little more intense than usual. I know I haven’t been necessarily adventurous with you, dear,” looking into his plate, then at you. Inevitably he starts thinking of Zoro. “Thought maybe I can start from somewhere.”

Your hand reaches his. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. You’re perfect for me, yeah? And I have fun with you. Lots of it, actually.”

“I know—” heat rising in throat, he reaches to loosen his shirt collar. “I mean, you’re perfect for me, too, hell I cherish each and every moment we spend together. Kind of felt intrigued to experience this with you, is all. However it’s definitely ok and understandable if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

Inspecting the flask in your hands, you give it a second of thought. You know the kind of shops Sanji frequents: equipped with dust and smoke and mysteries. The between-buildings types you have asked about before, and received a response either too vague or too straightforward to be taken seriously. Even still, trust has never been an obstacle. You trust Sanji; he has trustworthy eyes and a soothing voice that feels like a kiss on one’s eyelids. He’s good to you, always has been, when he cradles your face in his palms and calls you his sun and moon and stars, stardust dripping from his eyes as he assures you’re the best he’s had. 

“Does this have any side effect or some sort?” you look up to search for his gaze, and like pulled by a magnet Sanji returns it. 

“No,” he says. “Wears off in the morning. Like nothing happened.”

If you don’t end up running to Zoro, that is. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as the thought snipes through his mind. He’s not sure how to feel about lying to you, either. But maybe it’s for the best; if it turns out he isn’t your meant-to-be after all.  

Decisive, “Fuck it. Let’s do it, then.”

Sanji’s smirk fades out the anxiety. “In this case our next course will consist of one more secret ingredient.”

Feet swinging, tapping against the floor. Walls drifting apart and closing in. Moments have passed through you like sequences from a dream, and you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater as Sanji sets the dessert on the table—two delicate things, like they were long intended to play the highlight of your night, light pink and beautifully decorated with dried rose petals and pomegranate seeds. For a minute you marvel at Sanji’s attention to detail, the love he puts into any dish as he turns them into something special and palatable. 

“Baby,” your laugh is a casual play at fragrancy Sanji takes in with a one-sided smile. “There’s no way I can run my teaspoon into this.”

He takes the seat to your right. “The real deal happens when you taste it, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a teaspoon of his own, strands of blonde hair brushing one cheek as he does. 

And when you eventually do it, run tableware through moulded cream, you relish the sweetness that melts on the roof of your mouth. Sanji asks if you can tell the other thing apart from the dish. You say no, I don’t, do you? I think it’s the pomegranate, he acts like he’s uncertain even though you’re sure it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I only used some as decor. But here it’s rather pungent, not that I’m complaining. Child’s play. Halfway through your tasting, a second question comes. 

Do you feel anything? 

I don’t. 

Do you?

No.

Sanji’s heart clutches in his chest. He’s impatient, laughable even, he knows he is, since spells like this should take longer to surface. Three times he mouthed the chant and the potion gracefully vanished into steam as it poured down the servings, no drops left. By the look of that, Sanji might at least expect something to happen. Either bad or reassuring. 

Yet you stay your familiar comfortable selves even after you’ve eaten the whole thing, carrying on as such when you help him—at least attempting to, he never lets you lift a finger—clean the table and watch him washing the dishes from one of his counters. Sleeves pushed to elbows, fingers sunk into the sponge, hair pushed into concentrated, concentrating eyes. Water rolls off his wrists—drip, drop. He tells you something, but you cannot hear him. It hovers towards the ceiling and in the back of your head, a muffled sound engulfing you not less like the numbing feeling of being underwater. Shamelessly you ask him to repeat. 

Okay, maybe you do start feeling some way. 

Sanji turns off the tap. A crushing silence. 

“I was wondering if you thought of something to watch tonight,” he turns to look at you, and stops. 

He cannot tell if it’s your eyes, suddenly looking bigger, or your collarbones, stretching in and out in anticipation, wet lips looking wetter, slightly parted as you breathe, but he feels helplessly drawn to you, like you’ve been tied up by some invisible rope that keeps rolling up, more and more, thinning the space between your bodies. Air catches in his lungs as he lets himself be torn apart by his awe and not knowing what to do with it. 

Just as indiscreetly you wrap your eyes around his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, looking so much more strained under his shirt. Watching him make a step towards you, it seems like his eyes have gotten brighter, cheeks catching a faint tinge of pink, and you have to fight the impulse to dip a hand under your sweater and see how those long fingers of his would feel on you. 

Your fingertips bite into the front edges of the counter. “Not yet, no,” you say, a little disconnected from yourself. Sanji’s scent is an intoxicating mix of rosemary and sandalwood. “Guess we’ll have to browse and see what comes our way.”

“Sure. We’ll look.” Stepping forward, Sanji is the most relaxed he’s felt in days, his limbs and shoulders so much lighter as he moves, comfortably numb in the absence of a thought which has weighted on his back like a fiend draining him of his life force. He knows he has been waiting for something tonight, an answer, you calling a name he cannot bring himself to remember, and yet his mind is blank with nothing but the image of his lips crashing on yours. 

His presence radiates need, and it sends an electric shiver down your spine as he comes closer to you, fingers running over your knuckles. When your eyes align with his, you find it impossible to look anywhere else. So you sink into the blue and drown. Sanji leans further in, and his breath is sultry against your earshell as he speaks. 

“Fuck knows what’s happening to me, dear,” he says, a hoarse sound that makes your thighs squeeze together. “But please tell me you’ll ride my face before anything else.”

But he sure knows what’s going on. He put a spell on you; or something along these lines. 

Your body moves by its own as you push forward, biting your bottom lip, pressing your chest against his. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty?” your tone echoes the urgency of his request. 

His lips trail down your ear and across your neck. Suddenly your legs are wrapped around his torso. “Oh, and even more,” he tells you. “I want you to cream on my mouth so much that you’ll never find any other to please you just as good.”

“Then why am I not in your bed yet?” It comes out more desperate than it should. Without realising your fingers have unfastened at least two of his shirt buttons, and now they seem to cling onto his collar for dear life. 

Something flares in him; powerful, primal, which he hasn’t been aware he’s had before, sliding a hand under your hips and picking you up before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is deep, all tongue. You return it with closed eyes and a breathy moan that pulls Sanji in a frenzied daze. Hands curled at his nape, you lose yourself in the taste of nicotine and pomegranates as you let him carry you past dim lit walls and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. When he hurls you in bed, it’s with a deliberate movement, careful not to bruise you in any way but not the less forceful altogether. 

Then you take care of the rest of his buttons and belt, and he moves his focus to your pants, tugging them off while your mouths can’t gather the resolve to leave each other. Your fingers rake themselves through his hair. Smoothing the skin under your sweater, his hands stop to flatten around your breast. As Sanji presses his weight on you, it becomes impossible not to notice how fucking hard he is, greedy and throbbing against your soaked panties. He’s at his most unbridled tonight, and yet he touches you with the ritualistic devotion of a priest, mouthing syrup into your ear like lighting candles on an altar. The full moon spills in her light through the window, blue and delicate, and for a moment there you are sure Sanji’s contours have caught a prismatic glow, colourful flashes whirling in your vision, wavering around him like some sort of aura. 

After he breaks away, you are still tied together by a thin thread of saliva. He pushes your panties aside, and your back arches when he slides a digit, and then a second one, into your slit. There’s lust in his eyes, the kind you’ve never seen on him before, drinking in the sweet faces you make while his fingers press in and out of you in circling motions, rubbing your clit just so sweetly as he does. 

“Look how wet you are, dearest,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Always such a lovely mess for me.”

“I want you, Sanji,” you say, aware that you cannot hide the way he makes you feel by looking at him alone. 

It’s you, Sanji.

Your voice echoes in his heart like water dripping in a cave, let it melt inside him with something close to relief. He wants to thank you; and yet he cannot tell exactly what for. What he does instead is pull you into another kiss, less vicious and more affectionate, keeping you close with a hand flattened on your nape. 

The more you kiss him the brighter the room looks. Spectral rainbow fading behind his form. 

“Could you shift your hips for me?” Sanji eventually suggests. “Let me taste you, honey.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out what he means by that. Like a thing of habit, you let Sanji take your spot on the bed, then climb your way onto his face. You take yourself a moment before starting to move, but all wariness disappears the moment he drags a flat tongue across your slit. His voice vibrates into your core as your taste has him mumbling seared praises against your folds. Further you drop yourself on his mouth, and more he laps at your pussy, wet and desperate, coaxing you those sounds that fill the room and blend in with the moonlight. 

Sanji’s tongue has always managed to make you shiver. But this time is different, because you can feel everything; nose and beard and lips, drenched in your slick, white-hot as they rub themselves against your favourite spots. You can feel it when his eyes close and open, taking his time to savour the moment, and when he lets out a pleasured sigh to let you know how grateful he is to be allowed the luxury of tasting you, there is a delirious sensation rushing from your heat and climbing to your back like an electrical shock. It makes you thrust your hips harder against his mouth, call out his name with the urgent solemnity you didn’t know your voice could be able to reproduce. 

Looking at the way Sanji’s lower body tries to helplessly grind against nothing, cock straining in the confines of his boxers, bulging and stained with precum, you come to realise he must be feeling the same as you do. Oh, but Sanji revels in seeing how sweet you can be for him, and how good he can make you feel when he eats you out. He doesn’t mind the pain as long as he gets to lick you off his chin after he’s done. Never someone to dismiss your pleasure over his own. And yet. 

As his mouth diligently works on the heat that is now building in your stomach, and your movements pick up in pace to reach the high, you cannot help not to stare at his cock, thrusting the air to catch up with your rhythm. Hands running a touch across his stomach, you lick your lips. Sanji moans into you when you lean down to tug at his boxers. 

“Angel, what—” you hear him saying. 

Not allowing him the time to protest, you press yourself onto his face. “I’m so close, please,” you inform him, in a voice you don’t recognise. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, running his tongue around your clit, not letting a single drop go to waste. You’re almost there. 

“Good goddess, fuck,” he huffs, feeling your hands on his balls, and shortly after your mouth kissing him at the tip. 

He comes that instant; let heat shoot in your mouth and down your throat as you wrap your lips around him, swallowing and licking off everything you can. There is something wrecked in his voice as he’s taken through his crescendo, something like a prayer sent to an all-mighty, and even then he continues to kiss your folds and drag his tongue across you until you come to climb a peak of your own. With Sanji’s taste lingering on the roof of your mouth, tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you call for him, over and over again, enveloped in pleasures you never thought that existed. 

Only when you’re brought back, a panting mess, you realise Sanji remained just as hard as you left him—something only that weird sex drink could’ve made it happen. You take the opportunity to lift your hips from his mouth and better adjust yourself at his crotch; he starts shifting awkwardly the moment you do. 

“There’s no need to, really.” Sanji is hesitant as he looks down at you, lips red and goatee still soaked with your slick. 

“But I want my meal,” you say, already licking at the tip. “It’s only fair you let me have one too.”

He’s having a hard time saying no to you; but how can he, when you talk with that voice, and when you look at him with those pleading eyes that reflect the gates to Heaven and more? Your mouth takes a little more of him, hot tongue trailing up and down his cock, and his eyes roll back into his head in visible defeat. 

Sanji runs his fingers through your hair. His tone takes to yearning, “So my precious darling is hungry, huh? Cute and silly for my cock?”

“Mhm,” bottom lip rolling up, wetly.

Half smug, half dazed. “Then it’d be cruel of me not to keep you fed.” 

Deeper you push your mouth around him, until he’s twitching in your throat and you start to gag. Sanji’s thumb finds your cheek—please don’t do anything you don’t want to. But you wouldn’t stop. You cannot stop. Not when you get to hear the whimpers he makes as your lips press around the skin ever so slightly, when you look up at his heaving chest, his parted lips, pushing out a broken exhale, the eyes that now flood with wavering reflections of the moonlight and tears threatening to wet his lashes. 

“Oh, my angel.” It’s coarse, struggling for air. His eyes shut close. “My sun, my everything. Yeah, like that. So fucking good.”

Hands coated in spit, you reach to give his balls a gentle squeeze, continue to fill your throat. Once praises have started to spill from Sanji’s mouth, they don’t stop, and they touch a point at which the words feel like no more than babbling, trashed and incoherent, with his hair blown in both of his eyes. His hand sometimes runs to his forehead, other times he uses it to caress your face and pet your hair, but no matter what Sanji stays loud in letting you know how good whatever you’re doing to him feels.

The moment he sets both of his hands on your head, you know it’s because he’s getting close. With a fearful thrust of his cock into your mouth a growl leaves him, and soon after his second release spills down your throat, warm, somehow sweet. You swallow; his chest expands and contracts in attempt to catch his breath. 

Specks of light dash off Sanji’s lips. Pulling you at his level, he clashes them against yours into yet another kiss, sloppy and greedy as he runs his hand down your curves, sinks his fingers into your skin. The touch sears everywhere it reaches; and you cannot do anything but melt in his arms, let yourself be moulded by this growing need that somehow can never quite satiate you. 

“Hope you don’t think you won’t be rewarded for that,” Sanji breathes into your mouth. 

Your lips rolling to his jaw, you say, “Hope you don’t think I’ve had enough of you.”

“I’m here for you to take,” with a quivering hand Sanji squeezes your pussy. “Will always be.”

His fingers send a delightful shock throughout your body. Something close to a moan tears from your throat. “You're such a whore for me, Sanji.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sanji rubs his tip against your inner thigh. “Darling, please look at yourself.”

“For the love of god—” wet and breathless against his ear. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

Your impatience endears him, has his heart beating so much faster than it already does. Still he starts slowly, pushing you onto the pillows, taking his time to relish your expression as he lifts your legs and lovingly sets them atop his shoulders. Sanji almost laughs at himself, because even under the influence of this potion that brings out anything wild and viscerally troublesome he has in him, nothing delights him more than getting to unravel you with the same care one deseeds a pomegranate in the kitchen. 

Placing a kiss on your calf, he croons, “Say, sweetheart, what about you? Who do you crave for just so?” 

Not wasting a beat, “You, Sanji.” It’s you. 

He could get off by these words alone. 

“And what do you want from me?” he starts to coat himself in your slick, pressing the tip on your clit every now and then. “Do you want me to fuck you, maybe? Fill you up and call you beautiful?”

You can only nod, legs coiling around his neck in anticipation. “Yeah, yeah. Please fuck me.”

Then you can feel him burying himself into you, and it rips a sound from your mouth as soon as he does. Your hips lift to increase the friction. You accommodate him easily, trembling under him and through the persistent knot in your stomach that has you wanting for more. 

When he bottoms out, his voice is low, hypnotic. “Like this?”

“Like this,” you echo, drowning yourself in the wild glimmer flaring in his eyes.

Fingers dug into your legs, his temples sweaty, Sanji pulls out, then drops himself back in, each motion steadier than the other. Wet sounds fill the sheets as your bodies coil and flatten together like nothing matters in this world but you and this moment and the moon capturing your contours in ethereal glow. Nothing, no one. Sanji speeds his hips, chest flushed and sweltering. Usually you’re not as permissive with your sounds as he is, but tonight they seem to just pour themselves out of your mouth, every sigh and moan and whimper, sugar waterfalls thickening the air as Sanji moves you into each thrust. 

“Ah,” you hear him say, a man aflame. “Refresh my memory, would you, angel? Who did you want to fuck again?”

Through an exhale, “You—” a pause. “Only you.”

“You feel so good,” he whines, collapses with a slapping sound. “So sweet, so perfect for me.”

Blue and pink and yellow; just as vivid when you close your eyes. He goes in deep, deeper, and your thighs are shivering against his torso. 

“Yeah? You like that?” legs tightening their grip around him. “Like it when I take you good and confess?”

“More than that,” Sanji is breathless. “Makes me insane. You’re making me go insane.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but you know how it feels. To have your sanity run scarce by a voice telling you how faultless you are, that no matter how you see yourself you will always be a cosmos in someone else’s eyes. If anything, you should know this better than anyone else, the maddening feeling of being fed honey and sugar glaze as your thoughts are pressed against body heat. Lost in his trance Sanji picks up the pace, and there’s a wet, debauched mewl that overrides even the careless crash of your skins. 

Lip caught under your teeth, “Want to, mh—wanna hear another confession, baby?” 

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Sanji’s lips ghost over your calf. 

“Think I—” with a thrust your eyes are hurled to the ceiling. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Vulnerable. 

Suddenly his chest drops against yours, a chance for your legs to flatten across his back, pulling him the closest you can. His fingers interlace with yours as he sinks into the crook of your neck. 

Reckless. 

The pace doesn’t slow down, but you can very well tell it’s become sloppier than before. A lost rhythm. When you look at him again, you are quick to notice the dampness pushing at the corners of his eyes. 

“I love you too,” glad to finally word it this way. “I love you so much.” 

Then he continues to rut into you, shaky voice fogging your neck the moment your nails pierce into his back. Your hips thrust themselves up, desperate for tandem. Heat erupts inside you. Another peak you’re yearning to chase. 

“‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come,” you tell him, cheek brushing over his hair. 

“Let go, my dear,” in a frail tone. “Let me hear you.”

With a squeeze of your hand Sanji fucks you the way you need him to—viciously. 

He could try. He could at least try to make you fall so hard for him that you will keep your words even after the spell wears off. 

You pull at his hair, mean and senseless as a sudden burst of pleasure tears through you. Your lips move without being able to hear the words. There must’ve been something you said, though, you’re sure there was, because Sanji’s soon chasing after, hung on a mournful vowel, flooding you through his end. 

The moon soaks into your bodies.

iv. 

Sanji wakes up with tinnitus. He blinks, once, twice, waiting for the specks of colour before his eyes to rearrange into furniture. The next thing he recognises is your breathing, small and lukewarm on his chest. Instinctively his arms wrap themselves around you, and there’s a long exhale when they do. You’re naked, both of you. His head becomes heavy with flashes of last night, lips pressed together, bending sternum, and soon they are replaced with the sound of a name he thought he couldn’t remember. Sentiments he thought he discarded. 

He thought he would lose you. 

But you are still here. 

Before knowing it, his arms are shaking, and like he’s done many times when he finds it impossible to contain himself, he covers his eyes with an elbow. 

He starts crying. 

Muffled, subtle, more worried about waking you up than about having to figure out an excuse for his tears. Droplets roll off his cheeks and onto his collarbone. His chest jerks up and down in a pathetic staccato. He wishes he were someone with more control over his emotions, sometimes, during moments like this. But he isn’t, and he cannot change, just like he cannot be many other things. 

A soft rustle beneath the sheets. Arms squeezing his torso. 

“Sanji, hey.” The words come out rasp, still filled with sleep. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a thumb wiping across his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage. 

Warmly, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.”

Because he doubted you. Because he cannot fucking stop doubting himself. Heaven knows he’d tell you all these things, were he a braver man. Instead there’s only one thing that seems to be coming out of him, a broken record.

“I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t want to pressure him. Without saying anything else you keep Sanji in your arms, squeeze him tighter as his tears blend with your hair and your fingers move to soothe his frantic shoulders. Salt pours on his bottom lip. Sanji accepts the comfort despite his better judgement, burying his face into your neck, trying to focus on the sound of your breathing. You stay like this for a while. 

There are so many things he’d want to tell you; the kind of things that eat through his guts and tear him apart. Silly images of him taking you to the Baratie, teaching you the way around potions, topping your hand as you sign your name in blood and knowledge, are you to feel rebellious enough. 

And he will, one day; talk to you about everything he’s ever seen and touched. Now, however, he closes his eyes and hopes you will somehow catch a flicker of all the love he has in him; everything that makes him foolish. 

by far the longest thing i've written in years & it's a boring au. now excuse me but i need to go lie down for a while.

[stellar-constellations]

i see u pleading for an andrew request so IM GONNA DELIVER 😼 what if. academic to lovers college au where y/n and andrew get assigned to a group project or smth (ion get how college works YET) and it’s actually really fluffy?? like maybe slightly yandere andrew where’s he’s a lil possessive but nothing too toxic that would scare a girl away irl.,.. okay that’s my idea good luck 🤧

Yandere! Andrew Graves x Reader (College AU)

Wordcount: 1,500+ words

Andrew and you had the same history class and your professor paired the two of you up to research about WWI and create a presentation for class. You couldn’t use the internet for research, so you had to resort to digging around the city's library.

Andrew was a bit annoyed at first for this project. He preferred working alone, it made it so others wouldn’t get in his way while working and so he could have all his work credited for. 

Andrew quickly grew to respect you when you actually took the project serious instead of placing the work on him because he was smart, or just goofing off and not contributing. He respected that you could work efficiently at a decent-pace, but also you could have fun too. You could crack harmless jokes, and you could make something as boring as studying entertaining and fun while still taking your deadline and work seriously. 

Andrew quickly breaks out of his shell with you. You just have some sort of aura that draws him to you, he can't help but laugh at your jokes or guide you through the books with him. 

By the end of the first study session, Andrew leaves feeling happy to spend his time researching with you, and a bit sad that he has to wait until tomorrow to see you again.

The next day, you both go back to the library to research some more material for your project. You gather up what books you want to dissect today, sitting down at a table with Andrew to study, but he seems a bit distracted now.

Andrew's eyes drift from the pages to you repeatedly, he couldn't read a full page without looking at you twice, which made your work less efficient.

        "Are you okay?" you finally questioned.          Andrew seemed surprised that you caught him, his green eyes flickering in surprise, before he cleared his throat.         "Um... yeah. I'm just thirsty." He lied. "Hey, do you want a drink? There's a coffee shop not too far from the here. We can continue studying there?" he suggested.          "Sure." You smiled, seeing no harm in it.

        Andrew looked relieved that you accepted his proposal. You both gathered your materials and books, walking together to the library. Andrew stayed walking on the side of the road, a silent act of chivalry that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't observing him to see if he was alright.

        When you got to the coffee shop and ordered your drinks, Andrew sat next to you in the same booth, your shoulders as he claimed it would be easier to point out what one another is talking about and to hear each other better in this crowded place. 

        Even though you both had gotten your drinks, Andrew's mind was still somewhere else. He was too busy staring at you, thinking of how pretty you looked with how your hair was done, or how your eyes looked in this coffee shop's lighting, or how you bit your lip slightly when you started to daydream while reading about the boring events going on for your project.

By the end of your second day together, you both had to leave the coffee shop because of how late it got. Andrew was disappointed he had to leave you, but he knew he'd see you tomorrow. 

On day three, Andrew woke up early and stopped at the library to check out some books for today's study session. He dropped them off at his apartment, cleaning up his apartment some before walking to class. He sees you and sits next to you during the lecture, making small talk with you before class started. 

Andrew and you goofed off a bit during class, but were still pretty productive helping each other out and not being too distracting to your other peers, so your professor allowed you two to stay seated together.

When class was over, Andrew mentioned how he picked up books earlier this morning during a grocery run since the library was just around the corner from him (liar). He said the books were at his apartment and that you both can study at his place.

You agreed. It'd be easier to study someplace where you wouldn't get kicked out for staying too long or for being too loud, and it's also helpful for if you get thirsty or hungry. You and Andrew walked to his apartment together as he walked on the side traffic was. 

Andrew almost wrapped his arm around your waist, but felt that it would be too intimate for now (he didn't want to scare you after all!) He instead placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 

When you questioned what he was doing, Andrew leaned down into your ear and spoke: "it's loud out here with the traffic and all, this just makes it easier to hear you."

You ignored it, following him back to his apartment. He unlocked the door and allowed you to step inside, before closing it behind you and locking it. Andrew took you to his bedroom, saying the books were in there. 

The books were on his bed as Andrew sat down on it, looking up at you, as if telling you to join him in bed. You did, sitting down next to him and picking up a book to start analyzing. Andrew had a bit of a hard time focusing with you in his room, on his bed, alone with his company. He was able to manage, reading and going over the topics with you. 

Andrew played soft jazz music in the background, claiming that the music was around the same time period as the project, so perhaps it'd get them in the mood to keep studying or maybe the lyrics could have something mentioning the project. Either way, the music and all this reading was starting to make you sleepy.

Andrew noticed how your eyes drooped, and how your head started to bounce up and down as you tried to keep yourself away. He hid his smile by hiding his face with his book. Before you could try leaving, you fell asleep on his bed next to him. Andrew noticed, and after a few minutes of making sure you were completely asleep, he placed both of your books down on his dresser, writing today's research papers for the two of you since you were asleep.

Andrew curled up next to you, wrapping his arms around you as he admired your sleeping figure. He kept the jazz music playing in the background, just in case you woke up from him turning it off and so it looked like he fell asleep too when you would eventually wake up.

When you woke up, you were fairly confused and flustered that you had fallen asleep in Andrew's room, and even more flustered once you realized you not only fell asleep in his bed, but his arms too. Andrew stirred awake when you tried to move out of his grasp, realizing you woke up. He apologized (fake, of course) and said that when he sleeps he usually hugs a pillow, so he must've thought you were his pillow when he fell asleep.

It was a reasonable answer, so you accepted the apology and moved on, getting ready for class. In the next few days, you and Andrew were able to finish your project and presentation together, getting a perfect score with each other's help. 

Andrew was disappointed that you two couldn't work together on the project together, so he proposed that you two become study buddies and help each other study. You accepted, making Andrew happy that he still got to see you and hang out with you after school alone. 

When Andrew left to go back to his parent's apartment, he made sure to call you about the situation at home, the contaminated water and the quarantine and all. He called you everyday, for hours at a time as you both fell asleep on the phone lines. 

When Andrew's calls faded all of a sudden, you were pretty concerned for him. He still wasn't in class, and he hadn't called you in almost a week despite your phone calls every day. 

It wasn't until you got a knock on your apartment that you saw him. When you opened the door, Andrew rushed in and immediately picked you up, spinning you around in the air as he smiled. 

"(Y/N)!" he smiled brightly, his hands on your hips as he spun you in the air happily. "Andrew!" you gasped, a smile making way on your face as you couldn't help but laugh as his actions. "Where have you been? Why haven't you been calling me?" you questioned, your face turning in confusion when you caught the whiff of something metallic on his clothing.  "That doesn't matter." He smiled, setting you down on the ground as he looked at you adoringly.  You noticed something on his cheek and used your thumb to wipe it off. It was a small blotch of red. Strange... "That doesn't matter anymore. She tried to keep us apart, but I wouldn't let that happen." He spoke, his eyes half-lidded as he stared into your pretty ones. "Nothing matters anymore. I'm here with you now." 

        Thank you for the request! I'm a huge simp for Andrew (especially yandere) so I had such fun writing this!

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