#urgent garage door fix | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orshii · 3 months ago

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Highway to Cloud Nine

🏍️ Pairing: biker! Kim Hongjoong x mechanic! female reader 🏍️ Word count: 12,8 k 🏍️ Warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol use, smoking, shotgun, cheating (not by Hongjoong), angst, suggestive 🏍️Trope: Brother's best friend

🏍️ Summary: The car service you run with your brother, Jongho, is rather challenging, especially in his absence when you must manage everything on your own. Kim Hongjoong, your brother’s best friend, needs urgent repairs for his bike only complicating everything more for you, however, some tension also arises between the two of you as you notice a shift in your dynamic.

San, who is your ex, only makes everything more complicated when he reappears in your life. You’re faced with two choices now: you navigate your life the way you want it or you let the fear of disappointing your brother consume you.

🏍️ A/N: Hello there! Here I am again because suddenly I became obsessed with biker Hongjoong and I can't get over it. Nice! And I just love the brother's best friend trope. This story popped up in my mind in like 15 minutes and I don't know when I was able to write this much only in two days, lol. So yeah, I hope I managed to convert what I wanted, (sorry Sannie), and I hope you enjoy hehet! (this Hongjoong is so HOT I want to be the MC.) Byee! (divider)

The loud banging on the door coming from the garage under our flat disturbed my evening as I watched a TV show, tired of the day full of chaos. I stood up annoyed, thinking who was coming at this hour when we were closed for the day. I went to the stairs that led down to the car service we ran with my brother Jongho, who was away for a trip with his girlfriend. We named our service, Limitless and it has been almost ten years since we led this business. I grew up with cars and bikes and fell in love with fixing the machines and just admiring some expensive collections that some rich people owned. I already finished college and until I found what I wanted to do for a living, I decided I was going to help my brother out for a while as he was capable of overworking himself. I convinced him to get some rest because he needed a little break from the nonstop work in the garage. Our parents were long gone out of our lives. Our mom died and our dad was nowhere to be seen since then. We remained alone and Jongho took care of me since then. And I couldn't be more grateful for him, so this is why I told him I could manage the garage for a few days and he didn't need to worry about a thing. It was hard managing alone but I needed to do this for my beloved brother because he deserved a break.

I went downstairs as it led to the garage, the familiar smell of oil and steel hit my nose and the banging on the garage door did not stop.

"Coming!" I said annoyed by the loud noise.

I unlocked the door and saw a frustrated Kim Hongjoong standing in front of the garage. His biker helmet in his hands, his dark red hair falling onto his forehead a little wet from sweating, his undercut barely in sight. He was wearing his black leather jacket a white T-shirt under it, his pumped-up chest on the sight, paired with black skinny jeans that were ripped on the knees. As I saw it was him, I rolled my eyes annoyed, because I hated this guy. He was a walking red flag with his red hair that screamed he was a bad guy from far away. He was Jongho's best friend and he was a daily guest in our service. He always annoyed the shit out of me and he seemed he did not like me as much as I didn't like him.

"We are closed Hongjoong, what do you want?" I asked still holding the door, ready to slam it into his face.

"Where is Jongho? He didn't answer my calls." He asked running his fingers through his wet hair.

"He is on a trip with his girlfriend so don't disturb him." I deadpanned as I was ready to slam the door. But Hongjoong's hands prevented it.

"When is he coming back?" He seemed desperate.

"Tomorrow night."

"Fuck!" He shouted out loud stressed as he buried his face into his hands.

I sighed annoyed. I did not start to pity him; I was just curious. "Why?"

"Something happened with my bike and I have an important race tonight. I pushed my bike all the way here because it won't start no matter what I do. But now I'm fucked." His gaze bored into mine as he sighed.

I looked behind him, where his big dark red motorbike was standing waiting for a hand to repair it. "It doesn't get fuel?"

"I don’t know, I'm not a mechanic." He said looking over his shoulders at his beloved bike. "But I really need it for tonight."

I sighed for the thousandth time this evening. "Bring it in. I can fix it." I mumbled annoyed. Yes, I might have pitied Hongjoong, because he seemed so desperate and it seemed it was really important for him. Fixing cars—and bikes apparently—was my job and I just couldn't resist my passion, which helped me through tough times. Fixing cars helped me organize my thoughts and to even not think at all. So, I offered my help.

Hongjoong seemed quite surprised at that as he raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Come before I change my mind."

Hongjoong did as told and pushed the bike into the garage as I lifted the door up. His bike was a shade of dark red, with some black colors appearing on the sharp features, the lamp on the front was sharp and it looked like sharp eyes, which reminded me of Hongjoong’s eyes. I prepared some tools I needed to fix the bike. As I analyzed it a little and tried to start the engine, I already knew what was the problem and it wasn't that big of a deal. The fuel just couldn't reach the engine, because a part of the engine was slacked and it didn't let the fuel flow into the engine. I felt Hongjoong's gaze on me the whole time as I crouched down next to the bike so I could repair it.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked a little embarrassed as he scratched the back of his nape.

"No, just sit and let me work." I deadpanned as I looked up at him as he was standing next to me.

So, he sat down and silence fell over us. I was curious so I asked. "So, again those illegal races? I thought you stopped."

"I need money." He stated.

"For what?"

"It's none of your business."

I scoffed as I tried to screw a clamp into its place. "Okay, big boy."

"Can you just do your work?" His voice came out frustrated.

I stopped, as I looked at him in disbelief. I couldn't believe this guy. "I'm making a favor for you, so shut the fuck up!" I started to get angry.

He laughed. "Oh sorry, princess for disturbing you." His voice sounded sarcastic and annoyed.

I really tried to stay calm, it was in both of our favor. "Don't call me a princess!"

"Don't be mad, princess." He always did this, to annoy my shit out and today was not the day when I let him do it.

So, I stopped what I did and stood up with a scoff. "You know what? Go fuck yourself and your bike. It's not my business as you told me. The door is that way." I pointed towards the door as I dropped the spanner on the dusty concrete floor and turned away to leave him there. I just lost my patience and was under pressure the whole day, he needed to step over it, because he didn’t care.

Then he grabbed my wrist and whirled me around to look into his eyes. He was hovering over me with a deadly stare, his lips in a thin line, his red hair messy. "No, you fucking get that spanner and fix my bike, because I need it!" His face was close to mine, I felt his heavy breathing on my cheeks.

"Fix it yourself, the tools are there." I pointed at the ground towards his bike.

"Stop this shitty attitude of yours, Y/N! I really need to win this race tonight, please!" He seemed like he was near dropping to his knees and begging for me.

"Oh, you can say such things as well like, please? I'm surprised" I said as I pushed him away from my face, with my hands on his chest. I needed to show him, that he couldn't just control me and to be unrespectable with me. I couldn’t let that, I fixed his beloved bike so he was going to disappear as quickly as I wanted because I did not want to see his face.

And when I finished his bike and started the engine, it lighted up and it was ready to race for whatever reason it needed to. When Hongjoong left he mumbled something that sounded like a thank you and that he was going to arrange the price with Jongho. Like my brother fixed it…

Then I went upstairs, the quiet of our flat reminding me of how tired I was from working all day. So, after a short shower, I collapsed into my bed, trying to compose myself for another tiring day without Jongho as I fell asleep finally, an annoying face with red hair popped up in my dream that turned out to be a nightmare.

It was the middle of the night when I got a call. I groaned in frustration as I hated it when I couldn't get my well-deserved beauty sleep. It was still dark outside as my room was in complete darkness, my phone on the nightstand the only light in it. I reached for my phone; I just couldn't imagine what was so important that couldn't wait until the morning. When I grabbed my phone, it lit my face and I squinted my eyes from the sudden brightness, couldn't even read who was calling me, I just answered.

"Y/N! Thank God you picked up!" Comes a familiar and annoying voice from the phone.

I looked at my phone to check the time and I grew more annoyed when I saw that Hongjoong's name was looking back at me. "Hongjoong, it's 3 in the morning what the hell do you want?"

"I know, I'm sorry. But I think I need a little help." His voice seemed a little sheepish. Like he was embarrassed for calling me—as he should be.

"What the hell happened now?"

"I crashed with my bike…I need help in carrying it away…Please, I swear I'mma pay you back, but the police can't find me, I'mma be in big trouble if they do."

I squeezed the bridge of my nose in frustration as I shot my eyes closed. "Where are you?"

He mumbled something about being next to a factory on the edge of the city and thanked me at least a thousand times. I sat up with a groan, I couldn't believe myself, why couldn't I just say no to him? I was even surprised by myself. Then I sat up in the black Jeep we bought with Jongho together, the trailer hanging from behind as I was on the way to save Hongjoong's ass, the second time in like 10 hours—he was going to pay for this for the rest of his life I'm going to make sure about it.

When I was reaching Hongjoong's location my eyes averted around the surroundings, trying to find him. It seemed it rained a few hours before because the asphalt was wet and slippery. Then suddenly he appeared in front of my car and I almost hit him, I stepped on the brakes quickly and cursed. The sight in front of me was like in the movies. Hongjoong was standing on the road, the car's lights illuminating his face, some shadows lurking on it, making his features sharper, where some blood was flowing down from his temple. His red hair was damp I assumed from the rain, it was sticking to his forehead, some red wet drops flowing down his face that came from the red dye, mixing with his blood. He was wearing blue jeans that were ripped but not intentionally as his knees were bloody as well. On top, he was wearing a colorful shirt unbuttoned and a white T-shirt under it. I saw his bike which was lying on the ground crushed. It was a miracle it didn't catch on fire.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself as I stepped out of my car.

"What the hell happened Joong?" I walked towards him, as his expression told me nothing.

"The road was a little slippery from the rain and the police came after the race ended. I needed to get away from there quickly. And this happened." He pointed at his motorbike which was nothing like a few hours before.

"Oh my God Joong…" I ran my hands through my face frustrated, the sleepiness long gone from my eyes.

"Let's just get this shit away from here." He walked towards his bike in pieces, almost mourning his beloved bike.

Then we somehow managed to lift the bike to the trailer, collecting the broken pieces from the ground, and with that I drove back to our car service with Hongjoong sitting on the passenger seat.

“Did you at least win the race?” I broke the deafening silence in the car as I looked at the road ahead.

“Of course I did.” He leaned back against the headboard and looked out the window looking sad.

When I parked in the garage, it was already 5 in the morning. Hongjoong sighed as we both stepped out of the car and he sat on the old couch that was pushed against the wall, serving perfectly when we needed a little break from work. I closed the garage door and sat next to him, my head on the back of the couch as I closed my eyes with a sigh.

"Don't tell anything to your brother, please." I heard Hongjoong's tired voice from my side. "He is going to fucking kill me."

"I bet," I said with my eyes still closed. Then silence and I opened my eyes to look at Hongjoong whose eyes were already on me. His eyes were sharp and looked at me a little angry.

"Okay, I won't tell him anything." I lifted my hands giving up. "But what about the bike?"

He sighed as he leaned forward supporting his head on his arms. "I have no fucking idea." He buried his face into his hands, he seemed a little panicked. I just looked at his figure that seemed lost and little now, and there it was again. The feeling I hated so much. I just wanted to help him again, and I truly hated this feeling.

"I can't believe myself," I mumbled to myself as I sighed. Hongjoong looked up at me with a confused look. "Jongho is coming back tomorrow night…I guess we can fix that shit until he arrives."

I had never seen Hongjoong this surprised as his eyebrows disappeared from how high they were. "Seriously?"

"Yes, but I'm gonna need your help too."

He set up straight as he turned towards me on the couch. "I'm here, whatever you need, princess." He smirked as he leaned closer to me. I rolled my eyes and stood up waking to a cabinet where we held the first-aid kit.

"But first put yourself together, because you look like shit." I threw the box towards him and he caught it immediately, looking down at it with a frown as he opened it. He looked up at me with child-like eyes. Then I looked at him with my eyebrows furrowed.

"You are seriously like a child," I stated as I sat next to him growing more annoyed as he just didn't know what to do with the thing, I just gave him.

Kim Hongjoong then pouted—I say it again pouted at me—as I grabbed the box from his hands and took the cotton from it with the alcoholic liquid—at least this is going to hurt. His face was full of blood strings that flew from the wound on his temple, his lips were also cut somehow just like his right cheek. I reached the cotton with the liquid towards his temple, where a serious-looking wound was. "Did you drive without your helmet or how did you manage to do this?" He hissed when the cotton touched his temple.

"Nah, the visor of my helmet broke when I crashed and it cut me. I didn't even notice…" He mumbled as he grabbed my wrist, trying to prevent me from touching the cotton to his skin again.

"Stop, it's going to infect you if you won't let me do it," I stated as Hongjoong was looking at my concentrating face from close. Then his lips were the next, the bottom of it cut as the blood was already dry. He parted his thin lips when I traced the cotton slowly on his lips. He hissed at that again but grabbed my waist squeezing it as the liquid stung his lip. I looked up into his eyes and I saw something unusual of Hongjoong. It was something like caring and something I couldn't recognize. I couldn’t read much into it, because he came back to his senses and let my waist as he took the cotton from my hand and started to trace the cotton on his face looking at the little mirror from the box. I was stunned for a moment; I couldn’t process what just happened but I just let it go. It was Kim Hongjoong after all, and he made my next day miserable.

We didn't even sleep as we worked from there, trying to put the puzzles of the motorbike together. It seemed like a mission impossible; the bike was almost a dead duck. But there wasn't something I couldn’t fix, at least if it came to fixing machines. Fixing my problems, however, was beyond my capability. Just as the next problem came in line. We managed to put the pieces of the bike together somehow, working on it without stopping, only when we were too hungry to even lift something. But the engine was completely gone. And it needed a replacement. Was there anywhere you could find a brand-new engine in just a few hours?

Sadly, there was. And it was my ex-boyfriend's workshop, where he sold parts of motorbikes and cars. He was my only way of finding a new engine in a few hours, for this specific motorbike and it sounded like the worst of my nightmares. Asking for a favor from my ex whom I broke up with six months ago was shit. I didn’t want to do it, but it was already midday and Jongho was coming back at night.

My ex-boyfriend was Choi San. We were in a happy relationship, we really did. I thought we were going to be together for good. I already imagined my life with him, marrying him and having kids. I loved him, truly. But six months ago, it turned out he cheated on me. And it hurt. It broke me, I didn't even recognize myself back then. My worst nightmare came to life, which was not knowing San by my side anymore. He was the pillar I needed in my life to keep going. But when that pillar collapses into ashes, what was the reason to keep going with life?

I even considered letting it go and just forgetting about what happened and letting San come back to me because I didn't want him out of my life. But my brother was by my side the whole time and helped me through it, he hit some sanity into me—not literally—and talked me off of going back to him. San was Jongho's best friend. It was difficult for him too, having to choose between us, but he chose me. I knew Jongho was hurt by losing a friend, especially since he had warned me from the start that he didn't want to be forced to pick sides if we ever fought. In the end, he had to, and I felt guilty about it. I never imagined that San and I might break up one day.

He didn't even have a normal explanation. He just said it happened he was drunk and he can't go back in time to undo it. It was so disappointing hearing those words from him and more heartbreaking when I broke up with him but still loved him. It was already six months ago but I couldn't state that I didn't love him anymore. So, this was the reason it was hard for me to call him. But it needed to be done.

"It's Choi San's workshop, what can I do for you?" I heard his voice and I hoped it wouldn't make me feel anything, but it certainly made my heart beat faster. I was leaning against the receptionist's table in the garage, and Hongjoong sitting on the couch as he was smoking a cigarette.

"Hey, San. I'm Y/N. I need a favor from you." I said to the phone without any emotions.

"Oh, Y/N, hi. It's a surprise hearing from you." His voice was low and sweet like the San I knew from the beginning. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, I just need a favor it's important."

"Okay…what can I help you with?"

"I need a Honda CBR engine as soon as possible," I stated.

"How much is as soon as possible?"

"Like…right now?"

"Mhmm…" He hummed at that. "I don't know babe, what are you going to give me in exchange?"

My heart was beating faster as I grew angrier. "Money? What else could I give you San? Please don't make it harder, I just want to do business with you nothing else."

I saw as Hongjoong snapped his head up as he was still smoking his cigarette. I just averted my gaze from him as I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, okay relax babe. I'mma need at least an hour to bring it to you." San said through the phone as I ignored him calling me like that on purpose, I just wanted to get over it as soon as possible but I felt a little scared because of seeing him again after a long time.

"Thank you," I said before ending the call abruptly.

"The new engine is gonna be here in an hour. I think we can fix it until Jongho arrives." I said looking at Hongjoong a little frustrated from the call.

Hongjoong just nodded and he just stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, but I saw on his face something was bothering him.

One hour later as promised San came into the garage with the engine on his blue truck. "It's good to see you, Y/N." He welcomed me sweetly as he walked to the rear of the car and opened the door so we could lift the engine off. I hated seeing him but it made my stomach twist without me wanting it. He hadn't really changed since I last saw him, his hair was still black, his muscles were still pumped, and he was wearing a black sleeveless top paired with beige oversized pants and his working black gloves. He was the same yet, everything changed between us.

Hongjoong helped him lift the engine out of the car, and together they carried it into the garage. As they stood next to the bike, Hongjoong and San made small talk about what had happened to it. They knew each other well—we were all part of the same friend group—but San had stopped showing up when we invited him, for obvious reasons. Hongjoong was the only one who still kept in touch with him. Watching them chat, I couldn’t help but think, What the hell? We don’t have time for chit-chat.

"Okay, we don't have time for chatting, thank you San I'm going to send you the money." I stood in front of them folding my arms as they both looked at me surprised, I was there.

"Chill, babe I was just curious about what happened to Hongjoong." San walked closer to me and placed his hands on my waist, leaving a sweet kiss on my cheeks. I hated him so much; I could've punched him in the face. "You look good, Y/N, I hope to see you again." He whispered into my ears as goosebumps ran through my body, but it was because of the disgust I felt towards him. Yet, I couldn't do anything just stand there and let him kiss me and brush my cheeks after. I wanted to throw up. Then for my luck, he disappeared after shaking hands with Hongjoong.

I was just standing there a little stunned. I hated myself for letting him crawl into my head again. I hated him for behaving like nothing bad happened between us. And I hated Hongjoong for witnessing all of that.

"Is he still bothering you?" Hongjoong asked sheepishly as he looked at me.

"It's none of your business, yeah? Let's finish this up, 'cause I'm tired." I started without any emotions. Hongjoong was the last person I wanted to talk to about my feelings towards San. Everyone knew the story of ours, but the details were a mystery for everyone. He had secrets. So, did I.

With that, we worked all day to somehow put that engine in its place, without saying any words to each other, because I just wanted to finish this and be alone a little. I started to feel overwhelmed and the only solution for this was being alone on my own and somehow organizing my thoughts, or letting them drown me. It was whatever.

Then we finally finished and I collapsed on the couch when we heard the bike's engine fire alive. I was kind of proud of myself, I never really fixed motorbikes, my knowledge stopped at cars but I assumed they were similar so I had no problem in doing it.

"Thank you so much Y/N," Hongjoong said as he was sitting on his bike the helmet on already, a few strings of his red hair falling onto his forehead. "I really own you one…or two. I'mma pay you back I promise." He said as he closed the visor on his helmet. I just couldn’t say anything as I just watched him rolling out of the garage, the sound of the bike hearable even when he was long gone. The tiredness hit me at that moment as I was barely capable of going upstairs after closing the garage and collapsed into my soft bed like somebody just knocked me out.

Jongho returned and I was so glad to know him by my side again. Managing Limitless without him was tough but I knew I would do it again if it meant him resting a little. And I thought it was time for a little partying for myself as well after this tiring week. My best friend called me and told me her boyfriend, Seonghwa was holding a party at his house, as the end of summer was near. So, I accepted the invitation gladly because I really needed a break from everything.

I quickly got ready for the party, dressed up in my black leather jacket a white top under it, with a black skirt and black boots, along with some silver accessories and I made a black eyeshadow as makeup. I was quite satisfied with my appearance when I heard a honk coming from my best friend's car, as he said she was going to pick me up so I could drink.

When we arrived at Seonghwa's house, it was already full of people that I knew from college or from Limitless as the majority of the city came to us to repair their machines. It was great for our finances, which we definitely needed. We were heading straight to the drinks as we walked through the people somehow the music throbbing loudly in my heart, almost deafening. The living room was lit with different colors, making the dancing people disappear into the mixture of colors.

After pouring some drinks for ourselves we walked back to the backyard, where our friends were sitting. They were sitting next to a table with only a few seats available. Everyone was there, my brother, and his girlfriend who was sitting next to him leaning on his shoulder. Seonghwa, my best friend's boyfriend as she sat straight into his lap without thinking. And there was Wooyoung, my other best friend who was a goofy person, we always bickered or made fun of the others together. Then there was Mingi and Yunho, the boyfriends as they had been together for almost five years. I always envied their relationship because it was so honest and just looking at them made my heart beat with happiness. They beamed happiness all the time. And there was Hongjoong, wearing his usual biker jacket, his red hair now pulled back a few strings on his forehead only. Our eyes met and I quickly averted my eyes off him as I sat next to Wooyoung hugging him comfortably.

We haven’t met with Hongjoong since I fixed his bike, he just sent me the money for the service and the engine and that was all. I wondered if he told Jongho what happened.

Then lastly San was the only one who was missing from our friend circle and yes it was my fault, I did feel guilty, but it wasn't only my fault. He played a part in it as well, everyone started to hate him after what he did with me. They wanted to apologize to San, and they waited for an apology from him as well, but he simply never showed up when they invited him and slowly, they just let him go.

As the night got deeper and chillier, a lot of drinks came to our table as well, and we just chatted with the others, not bothering to dance inside. The host was with us the whole time as well, not even caring what was happening inside his house. It was a habit of ours as we went to house parties. We just needed a table to sit at and a few drinks and the night was gone with us having fun and bickering around. The alcohol slowly started to get up into my mind and I started to feel a little drunk, but it was a good drunk. I just felt happy being around my friends.

When we got bored of sitting in one place everyone seemed to disappear. The couples needed their own time as well—disgusting—and I found myself on the backyard bench alone as I looked up at the sky, where the moon was shining back at me in its full form in a shade of light blue. It was mesmerizing, I could look up at it for hours as I sipped from my drink occasionally, my legs pulled up to my chest. I didn't even notice how much time passed by as I was wandering around my thoughts when someone sat next to me. I looked to my side when I saw Hongjoong sitting next to me, the last person I was thinking about. Then I just ignored him and sipped from my drink looking up at the sky again. His gaze followed mine.

"The moon looks beautiful tonight." He started looking up at the sky.

"I know," I mumbled a little annoyed.

Then he didn't say anything and just pulled out his cigarette from his pocket and lit one up. He reached the pack towards me offering me one as I shook my head. He just shrugged and pocketed the rest of the cigarettes with the lighter. He leaned back on the bench and sighed as I looked at him, his eyes were closed facing the sky. The moon lit up his features, the shadows lurking on his face, making it look more intimidating, sharper. His eyelashes touched his face, the cigarette between his thin lips as he inhaled it, then exhaled it and it into the chilly air, as it flew up towards the blue moon.

"What are you doing here by yourself?" He broke the silence as he opened his eyes and met mine that were already on him. I quickly narrowed my gaze away from him as I got caught.

I just shrugged. "Drinking, thinking about life."

"What are you drinking?" He asked taking the alcohol from my hands as he sipped from it without my permission. He squinted at the taste of it as I watched him struggle. "Ew, how can you drink this?" He handed back the glass.

"It's like water for me, dude," I said sipping from it again.

I saw as he furrowed his brows. "Dude?" He gasped as he acted surprised his hands on his heart.

"So, we are friends now?" He asked.

"No, dude, we are not."

"What a shame, you have no idea what you're missing out on," he said with a slight giggle. He seemed drunk too.

"Trust me I do know." I looked at him with a knowing smile. "Is your bike working still?" I asked him curious.

"Yes, it's better than before. I won already a few races with it." He said proudly. It was obvious how passionate he was about his bike and racing.

"Why do you race?” I asked suddenly.

"I fell in love with bikes a long time ago, and when I discovered racing, I just couldn’t stop. Also, I need the money too.” He said his gaze on his hands.

"Will you tell me why? Or it’s still not my business?” I looked at him tilting my head.

His gaze remained averted as he said sincerely, “My mom needs it. The company she worked for let her go due to having too many employees. I want to support her until she finds a new job."

"That's really kind of you," I said sincerely. I would never have guessed that he needed the money for such reasons, rather than trouble with the law or something like that.

He just nodded as a comfortable silence fell on us. That I would've never imagined besides Kim Hongjoong.

"Do you want to shotgun?" He broke the silence again as I looked at him frowning. He seemed serious with his unserious question.

"Yeah, why not?" I answered and it surprised the both of us. I was just drunk and I was curious how his lips felt against mine.

Hongjoong chuckled at that, not waiting for agreement as an answer. He studied me thoughtfully, as if unsure whether I was serious. "Are you scared or something?" I teased, raising my eyebrows.

"Not at all." Then I watched as he reached the cigarette between his fingers to his lips that slightly parted and inhaled the toxic smoke deeply, as it went straight into his lungs. Then he quickly leaned forward and cupped one side of my face under my jaw as his lips were almost touching mine. My heart rate was as high as the sky as I looked straight into his eyes when the smoke came out from his lips as he exhaled it straight into my parted mouth, his lips brushing against mine slightly.

At that moment I felt like my heart might just stop. Might just say “Hello I'm moving out because I can't handle this guy.” Something was weird in my chest, something that I couldn't name, couldn't compare. The smoke was long gone as I inhaled it deeply into my lungs as it disappeared there. But Hongjoong did not pull away and neither did I. We were just frozen as we were still looking into each other's eyes like we were locked there into a framed picture. Then Hongjoong's eyes narrowed from my eyes to my still parted lips as I breathed out, a barely visible smoke coming out. I saw in his eyes he was thinking about his next move a lot as he tried to close the distance between our lips and I just couldn't insist. Just until this weird bubble of ours exploded.

"Hongjoong." I heard a familiar voice coming from Hongjoong's side. It was my brother and I just wanted to dig myself deep into the soil. I wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. Jongho approached us with a smile, his focus solely on Hongjoong. "Oh, you're not alone—sorry for interrupting," he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of apology. But as he took in the scene, he noticed me sitting next to Hongjoong. His expression shifted as he recognized me, his sister who had already played this game with him. I felt ashamed. Embarrassed. Jongho's smile just vanished, like it was never there. "You've got to be kidding me." He scoffed and then turned away from us walking towards the house madly.

"Fuck," I said standing up from the bench, where a frustrated Hongjoong was still sitting like he didn't know what to do.

"Go tell him that there's nothing between us and nothing ever will be," Hongjoong said his voice going quiet at the end. I won't say it didn't hurt. It did, but it was nothing compared to what I felt because of Jongho. Because he was disappointed in me again. My plan was not to make his life harder than it is. But I always failed and failed.

I chased after him, stumbling through a sea of unfamiliar and familiar faces, desperately trying to locate Jongho in the crowd. I felt like I was in a dark and all-the-time-changing maze. Then I went out the front door and I just saw Jongho heading towards his car.

"Jongho!" I screamed his name to stop. He did not stop.

"Jongho, please hear me out! It's not what it looks like!" I shouted after him, my voice breaking slightly.

Then he stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me with a furious expression his brows furrowed. "Don't tell me it's nothing when you just can't do other things than fucking with my best friends. So, when they are going to break your heart, I have to fucking choose between you or them. I'm sick. I'm sick of your games, Y/N.

I thought after San you learned your lesson, but I guess you are just into this shit of getting together with my best friends so in the end they are going to fucking disappear from my life for good after breaking your heart. I had enough of this shit. I won't repeat this scenario again…" Meanwhile, he spoke I was just frozen in place as tears rolled down my cheeks. I wanted to say a lot of things to him, to scream at him, Hongjoong meant nothing to me. But words just couldn't leave my mouth they were stuck in there, almost not letting me breathe.

"There's…there's nothing between Hongjoong and I, Jongho. I swear to God there's nothing." My voice came out weak as I somehow managed to let those words out that hurt like hell but history simply just couldn’t repeat itself.

He just looked at me like he couldn't believe me anymore but seemed like he accepted it for now. "Let's just go home." He sighed as he said.

I just nodded and sat in the back seat of his car as Jongho went back to get his girlfriend as well. The way home was silent as the only noise was the night radio that was playing some romantic melodies and my eyes averted in front where Jongho was holding his girlfriend's hands on the gear stick as they looked at each other sweetly for a moment. A few tears just flew down my cheeks because I thought I was never going to experience love that is not only one-sided. Love that is on the same level as mine. A partner in crime who calms you down in this cruel world. Love, love, love. I couldn't believe in experiencing true love for the rest of my life. I just simply gave up and signed up for the dark side.

Since that night, Jongho's behavior wasn’t the same. He was cold and barely talked to me. I couldn't blame him, because I truly deserved the silent treatment. Hongjoong did the same. He hadn't even come to Limitless since then and pretended like he wasn't about to kiss me that night. It was shit and I just wanted to forget it. Everything was good a few weeks ago. But Hongjoong needed to appear at my door to help him, then I needed to call my ex-boyfriend.

It seemed he took it as a sign that I might let him back. Because he was constantly annoying me, calling me at night drunk and telling me he was still loving me and shit. If he would've said this four months ago, I would've let him come back to me without any thought. But now it was different and I didn't even want to hear from him. Yes, I was scared a few weeks ago when I called him, because I was terrified, I might feel something for him still. I have to admit perhaps a part of me will always love him, it's the curse of a first love. But talking to him and even meeting with him, kind of led me to the conclusion that I was ready to let him go for good. It was for the better.

I was in the garage, sweeping the dusty concrete floor, ready to close Limitless for the night, when I heard a car's engine sound that stopped, then a knock on the garage door. I sighed again as I was the only one home for the night. I opened the door and I saw Choi San standing in the door with a flower bucket in his hands.

"San?" I was so confused, what the hell did he want from me?

"Hey, babe, brought you some flowers." He said casually leaving the flowers in my hands, as he stepped closer to me pecking my cheeks and letting himself inside. I was just too stunned by his actions; I scoffed in disbelief turning towards him where he plopped down on the couch.

"San what are you doing?"

"I came to see you. Is that a problem?" He asked like there wasn't a single problem with it.

"Yes! It is, what the hell are you thinking right now? I called you to do me a favor and now we are back together? Are you delusional?" I asked him getting more and more angry as I threw the flowers from my hands at the floor.

He looked down at the flowers and he seemed hurt at that. He stood up and started to walk slowly towards me. His expression changed entirely; it became serious like no one was allowed to speak to him like that. "I know you still love me, Y/N." His fingertips traced through my cheeks, looking almost psychotically at me.

"No, I don't love you anymore! Just get the fuck out of here I don't want to see you San!" My voice raised as I pointed towards the door putting a little distance between us.

He tilted his head to the side still looking at me. He looked like a tiger that was going to hunt you down in a blink of an eye. He started to step closer to me as I stepped back. We played this game until I was pushed against the wall, his broad figure hovering over me. That was the moment I felt terrified. I was caged in between his arms; I had no way out of there.

"Stop lying to yourself and come back to me, babe." His fingertips were tracing down my neck, then up to my lips, my cheeks, like I was an art in a museum and I was allowed to be touched. My body started to tremble.

"San, please just go away!" I sounded desperate like I would've done anything for him to leave.

"What if I don’t want to, my love?" He smiled at me with an evil smile I just couldn't think anymore.

"Get your hands off her, San!" A familiar voice came from behind San when all I saw was him being dragged away from me, as I finally was able to breathe. I saw Hongjoong's figure as he held San by the collar of his shirt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hongjoong hissed through his teeth.

"It's none of your fucking business, Hongjoong. What? Did you two fuck? Does Jongho know?" San sneered his only intent to provoke. The words struck a nerve in Hongjoong, and before I knew it, he landed a punch squarely on San's face, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Fuck you, San. You're a fucking nobody. Why can't you just leave Y/N alone? Hasn't she suffered enough because of you?" Hongjoong spat, pointing at me as if I were just an object, devoid of emotions. But his words hit home, and I was taken aback by how much he seemed to understand my feelings.

San just spat blood on the floor as he lurked forward and sent Hongjoong to the floor and he started to punch him. But Hongjoong was quick and prevented San from hitting him more in the face and quickly turned them around, so now Hongjoong was on top, hitting San in the face with his full power. "You fucking bastard, Jongho trusted you but you betrayed him. What is wrong with you? I don't recognize you anymore." Hongjoong mumbled in between hitting San, then he just held down San's arms strongly and looked down at him with a furious expression. Then San taking advantage of this, tried to hit Hongjoong again, but he dodged quickly.

"You guys left me alone, I knew I wasn't welcomed there, so I didn't go." San gritted through his bloody teeth as he dodged one of Hongjoong's hits.

I knew the fight wasn't just about me. They were friends as well, but San became so arrogant everyone started to leave him.

Along the way, everything happened so quickly I couldn't react in time. When I realized what was happening, I went next to them and yelled as much as I could. "Stop fighting for fuck's sake!" I pleaded. "Please, Hongjoong…" My voice became softer as I placed a hand on his shoulder. His fist hung in the air, but he froze, glancing up at me. The skin around his left eye was already reddening, a cut had opened on his right brow, and blood began to trickle down, matching the wound on his lower lip. I just couldn’t look at San's face because I knew he was covered in blood just like Hongjoong's fist that was full of San's blood.

Hongjoong stood up and lifted San. "Get the fuck out of here and I don't want to hear from you again!" Hongjoong stated to his once best friend as San just left without any words, but I saw in his face a burning desire for revenge in his eyes. And I knew it wasn't the last time we saw him.

"Are you okay?" Hongjoong then suddenly cupped my face, his sweet scent embracing me. My body was still shaking, I just couldn't believe that was the man I loved so deeply. San showed a new side of him and I just couldn't recognize him anymore.

I breathed out slowly as I closed my eyes for a second, taking in the warmth of Hongjoong's hands. "Yeah…" I whispered as I held his hands to push him away. I walked to the closet again, like we were at the beginning, and took the first aid kit. Hongjoong was just looking at me the whole time and when I signaled him to sit down on the couch, he obeyed without a word. He leaned down on the way to take his black cap from the ground that he lost between fighting with San, he wore the cap backward, pushing his red hair back from his forehead. He was wearing a black and white T-shirt with grey sweatpants and white sneakers. He sat down and I followed him as I opened the box. History repeats itself.

We were quiet the whole time as I traced the cotton with the liquid on his eyebrows as he just stared into my eyes the whole time not even hissing from the pain. Then I went down to his thin rosy lips the blood already dried.

"You always take such good care of me..." Hongjoong whispered, his gaze locked on mine, his red hair damp and clinging to his forehead.

"Because you need to be taken care of. You're like a child," I teased, a small smile forming on my lips as he pouted slightly in response.

Then I looked down at his hands and lifted it between us as I traced the cotton on his bloody knuckles as well. The air between us was thick and the tension was growing higher and higher.

Hongjoong looked down at our hands and without any thought he took the cotton from my hands, putting it down, then his hands traveled to my waist and lifted me to straddle his lap. My body felt hot and as I looked into his eyes, I felt woozy like I was drunk suddenly. I couldn't think clearly, my hands were on his shoulders and the eye contact was so deep I found myself in Hongjoong's mind and him in mine. Then I bit my lips because I felt so nervous I felt like it was the first time someone ever touched me. His eyes averted to my lips then his hands on my waist that pulled me closer to him left burning flames behind, making my body catch on fire from the sudden desire I felt. Then he leaned his forehead against mine as we both breathed heavily. Both our desires were blocked by an important reason. We both closed our eyes taking the other's presence in.

"We can't do this Joong," I whispered as my lips almost brushed his.

"I know," His lips were even closer as he almost whispered it into my mouth.

We breathed heavily against each other's lips, our chests moving in synchrony, our eyes taking in the other as we both saw the burning desire in each other's eyes. I fought so hard against this feeling, and so did Hongjoong. But…

"Fuck it!" He said as his lips crashed against mine suddenly and the air from my lungs was suddenly knocked out as I started to move my lips against his. It was rushed, harsh, teeth and tongue tangling with each other, as his hands traveled down my thighs, tracing them slowly as they went back to my ass, as he pushed me closer to himself.

My breath caught in my throat as he groaned, sinking his teeth into my already bruised lips from the rough kisses. My sanity just left my body and I gave in to the desire I felt towards him. But then…something hit me in the gut a feeling that was called guilt. And I pushed Hongjoong away my hands on his chest.

"Let's stop, please. I can't do this." Suddenly my eyes watered from the emotions that were bombarding my already breaking walls. I knew I wanted him, but I just couldn’t. The thought of seeing the disappointment in Jongho's eyes again held me back.

"Y/N…" He whispered as he leaned his head against mine.

"No, Hongjoong. I don't want to run through the same road once again…" I said as I stood up from his lap, it felt like I left a part of me with him.

He stood up too and took my hands into his. "I want you, Y/N. You have no idea how much..." His voice seemed desperate and honest.

"You were the one who told me to tell Jongho that there's nothing between us and never will be," I said, pulling my hands away from his. "And you were right—there is nothing, and there never will be. We both knew it; we just didn’t want to admit it."

"Jongho would understand it." Hongjoong seemed hopeful, but I long lost my hope along the way.

"No, he wouldn't. He is just afraid he might lose another friend because of me. And he is right. It might be that just desire speaks from you…" I looked down at my hands, not daring to look into his sharp eyes that changed all of a sudden.

"How the hell do you know what I feel when I didn't even have the chance to tell you?" Hongjoong stepped closer to me and lifted my head holding my chin. "Look at me and tell me you don't feel anything towards me and I'm walking out of that door." He stated as my eyes locked with his. I wanted to cry so bad, he couldn't say that, he couldn't just tell me to choose between him and my brother. I just looked at him as my eyes watered.

"Or do you still love that fucker who hurt you?" His expression turned furious as his fingers around my chin tightened.

I simply couldn't say anything, I tried, I tried to say anything, to say no I hated San with my whole heart, and yes, I felt something whenever I looked at him. I felt my stomach twist and like my heart wanted to stop all the time. But I just couldn't say anything, I went silent as he read my eyes that probably didn't say the things that I wanted to tell him, because he scoffed, his eyes dark with fury as he looked into mine one last time. "You're a fucking coward." Then, he turned and slammed the door shut.

Those words pierced right into my heart, reopening the cracks that had just begun to heal. My heart shattered again into pieces of hopelessness because he was right. I was a coward.

I felt like I was a robot that was programmed to do some things. My feelings were long gone and I wasn't myself these past days. Jongho was still kind of ignoring me, we were working together but the communication was shallow between us. Hongjoong was in the garage a lot recently. It turned out he was working in the garage, helping for Jongho, so I didn't have to help that much. It seemed like they both wanted to close me out and it hurt. So much I couldn't even think. Hongjoong didn't even look at me whenever I was in the garage like I didn't even exist. So, I just let it go, I figured they didn't need me in their life as their friendship was so much more important than me. I accepted it, I let them be and I started to deal with my own problems. For example, studying. My dream was always to be a doctor after my mother died from a cruel disease. But as our father left us, Limitless was left for us to handle. So, I left my dreams behind and started to work in the garage. Working on cars is a lot like being a doctor. As a car mechanic, I diagnose and fix problems with vehicles, much like a doctor diagnosing and treating diseases. It's about diagnosing the issue, repairing the damage, and putting everything back together.

I started to go to a class that trained nurses. I had to start somewhere and I liked it. Jongho didn't even know about it. I started to question his behavior. We didn't even speak with Hongjoong yet he still closed me out like I wasn't even his beloved sister.

Weeks later I had enough of Jongho ignoring me so I had to speak with him. I went downstairs on a Friday night when I saw Jongho and Hongjoong fixing a black Maserati, that was lifted to the air.

I approached them. "Jongho, can we talk?" He looked surprised by the voice coming from behind. He was wearing a blue overall, his chubby cheeks a little smashed with oil. Then I narrowed my eyes at Hongjoong who was wearing the same blue overall with a black T-shirt, his face full of black patches, the usual black cap on his head turned backward.

"Yeah, give me five minutes." His hands were behind the car's tire as he was searching for something behind.

I just nodded and sat on the couch to wait for him. I just wanted to tell him that to stop this childish behavior because I won't steal his best friend, and it was supposed to be clear for now.

As I was sitting on the couch lost in my thoughts, I felt as if someone had come into the garage. I lifted my head and it was San. My heart started to beat fast as my body shivered remembering the last time I saw San. His face seemed normal; it didn't seem like he came to get some revenge because of what happened. His face screamed that he felt guilty about it.

"Y/N, can we talk?" He asked as he didn't even dare to come close to me.

Two heads peeped out under the car hearing the voice of someone. When Hongjoong saw who was it, he quickly swooped forward and pushed San against the wall grabbing the collar of his shirt. "How the fuck do you dare to come back here?" He hissed through his teeth his face close to San's.

"Fuck off you dog!" San pushed him away by the chest. Then I quickly slipped between them facing San.

"What do you want San?" My voice came out straightforward not even trembling for a second.

"I want to talk to you and apologize, please Y/N." His eyes were soft and he seemed desperate.

"What the hell is happening here?" Jongho's voice came from behind as he wiped his hands with a used cloth.

San's gaze locked with Jongho's. The once best friends were now at the same place and I felt like I shouldn't be there. "I just want to talk with Y/N, that's all," San said his voice low and determined as his gaze never left Jongho's.

"She’s not going with you!" Jongho stated firmly.

"That’s not up to you," San retorted flatly.

"She won’t go with you," Hongjoong’s voice cut in sharply.

"Stop talking like I'm not fucking here," I snapped, glaring at the three of them. "You all need to sort this out because you're acting like children. It's pathetic." I pointed at them, my frustration growing. "Let’s go, San!" I grabbed his hands and tugged him away.

"Y/N! Don't you fucking dare to go with him!" To my surprise, it was Hongjoong's voice. I stopped in my tracks at that.

"Or what? What are you going to do?" I looked at him questioningly. "Are you going to beat him again?" Jongho's brows furrowed at that.

Hongjoong looked speechless. "That is what I thought," Then I turned to leave him there with Jongho so he could explain what he did.

I sat in San's car and told him to take me away from there. I was just so mad at my brother, at Hongjoong, I couldn't even look at their faces anymore.

San took me to a random park, we didn't even have any connection with the place. He could've taken me to the place that was our favorite to go together, but he didn't. The reason was because we both sought closure and it needed a new place. So, we sat down on a bench and we talked about how we felt. He asked for an apology from me and I accepted it because there was no point in tiring the other out. We both needed to move on and this talk helped us go through it. It wasn't good when we broke up and it affected our friends too. I wanted San back in our friend group because he deserved to be there. And I knew the others wanted him to come back as well. Lastly, I hugged San and we both agreed on a distanced friendship. As I prepared to step out of his car, parked in front of Limitless, I noted that it was already late into the night. I suggested to San to talk with Jongho and even Hongjoong because their friendship needed fixing—these guys could fix any cars and bikes but they couldn't fix their friendship…

After talking with San, I headed upstairs, passing by a concerned Hongjoong who scanned me with his eyes, checking for any signs of injury. Then I encountered a furious Jongho, who I assumed was aware of the confrontation between San and Hongjoong. I chose to ignore both of them, closing the door behind me with a weary sigh.

After speaking with San my head was a little clearer as I finally felt like I could think clearly and analyze the emotions I felt. My feelings towards San were deep but I could find the bottom of it, it was clear to me now that it had an ending. We just weren't meant to be and it had to happen like this. We can learn even from the heartbreaks; it makes us stronger and more experienced if we get into a new relationship.

Then Hongjoong came into my mind and I wanted to face the fact I did feel something for him, I couldn't deny that. It's hard to say but these emotions towards Hongjoong were deeper than what I felt for San, it almost felt endless, like it had no bottom. And I would've never imagined one day I'm going to say something like this.

But I might have fallen for Kim Hongjoong.

After what felt like an eternity, being drowned in my thoughts, I heard a low knock on my door as I was sitting in my bed and Jongho's head peeped into my room.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," He sat down on my bed and started to adjust the sheets carefully avoiding my eyes.

"Hongjoong told me some things…" He started. "Why didn't you tell me about San?" His brown eyes met mine.

"There was no point, Hongjoong was there at the right time, it happened and that's all. You ignored me anyway so…" I shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I was just so frustrated at the thought we have to go through the same road as half a month ago." His eyes were sincere and emotional.

"I get it, seriously. But after you saw we didn't even talk with Hongjoong you still ignored me. Why?"

He just shrugged. "I still thought something was happening behind my back…even though you didn't show it in front of me, I just felt it."

Guilt crept up my body. "Actually—" I wanted to tell him. No more secrets.

"I know. Hongjoong told me everything." He didn’t let me say anything.

My heart started to race I analyzed his face, searching for some signs of anger. But there was none. "Aren't you like…mad?"

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his brown hair. "No, I—Look I'm not mad, Y/N, I never was. I just wanted to protect you from another heartbreak. I just wanted to act like your big brother who protects you from anything…" He looked down at his hands, he looked so small like this.

"Jongho…" I reached for his hands and took it into mine. "I know you want to protect me; you really did our whole life and I am so grateful for that. But…you can't save me from the feelings I feel and the heartbreaks that are written for me. And I know that your friends are in this story and that is also a sensitive topic. But I didn't mean to fall in love with both of your best friends." Tears welled up in my eyes as this sentence sounded too deep and fragile. "I—I never said you had to choose between me and your friends and I would never ask you that. I would be glad if San would come back to our friend group like in the old days. It would be weird but it's not like I can't be in the same place with him.

"Okay, not anymore…but we talked and we are fine now. At least we can tolerate each other."

Jongho seemed like he was proud of me for being so collected.

"I'm going to talk with San, I promise," he said earnestly. "And about Hongjoong… I won’t get in your way. If you two have feelings for each other, then I shouldn’t stop you just because I’m afraid of losing you and my friends." Jongho spoke with a vulnerability that made his eyes well up, revealing his emotional struggle.

"You won't lose us. We are always going to be by your side, this way or another but you can't get rid of us." I pulled him closer as I hugged him strongly.

"I would never want to. I love you!" Jongho whispered as the room slowly embraced in darkness.

"I love you too, and thank you!"

"You should talk to him."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"He has an important race and he was so stressed when he left. I didn't want to admit it but I think he needs you." Jongho said as his lips curved up a little as I stood up. I quickly walked towards my closet to get my black leather jacket as I was wearing black ripped jeans with a black top.

I hugged Jongho one last time before I stepped out of my room to run to my car and get to Hongjoong before he started the race.

When I arrived at the location Jongho told me the race was going to be held, it was full of people. It was at the top of a huge parking lot in the heart of the city, where they could easily run speeding races. I was amused by how they held something illegal in this part of the city. We were late into the night already as the city lights were shining from up above. Colorful and upgraded cars were parked, and people looking at them like they were a work of art as I passed by them. Then there was a part where only motorbikes were and after parking my car, I walked towards it as I took my surroundings in. The music was beating through my heart as I walked past a car that had installed subwoofers. Everything was strange for me but I always wanted to come to races like these, it had a quite good atmosphere, and everyone seemed excited for the upcoming race.

I reached the motorbikes, there were a few types of bikes standing. They were so beautifully shaped and the colors highlighted its sharp features. I was searching for Hongjoong's red Honda in the eternity of bikes. I looked around, my eyes narrowing through the people who passed by me when someone grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I saw Hongjoong in front of me as he led us to a quieter place, which was the end of the parking lot.

He stopped and turned to face me. "What are you doing here?" He looked stressed like he didn't know where his head was. "You have to get away from here, it's dangerous here Y/N!" He snapped his head from the crowd back to me, looking like a maniac with his wide pupils and eyes nearly completely black. He wore ripped blue jeans and a leather jacket, his red hair disheveled from frequent, stressed attempts to comb it through.

"I came to watch you race and I wanted to talk to you." I stepped closer to him. I needed to calm him down.

He froze at that. "About what?"

"About us."

The crowd was cheering loudly when he said. "I have to go." He looked behind me at the crowd and then back at me like he didn't know what to do.

"Then go!" I nudged him.

He still wasn't himself as he just nodded his lips in a thin line. I stepped closer to him and looked up at him my eyes beaming sincerity. I brushed a red hair string away from his forehead as I whispered close to his lips. "Win this for me." Then I leaned closer to his face and left a sealing kiss on his parted lips. This seemed to bring back Hongjoong to the real world because his eyes were now full of sincere emotions and the burning desire that almost lit his eyes up.

"I will." Then he grabbed me by my waist and pulled me close to his body, his other hand cupping one side of my face as he crushed our lips into a quick chaste kiss, as he kissed me passionately telling me everything, he couldn't with it. Then he slightly pulled away leaving one little peck on my lips as he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N…the things I said…" He whispered against my lips.

"Go, Hongjoong!" I chuckled and pushed him by his chest as he didn't want to release me.

"Okay," He left one last kiss on my mouth. "Wait for me, I have a race to win for my princess." He smiled at me, and there was the Hongjoong that finally didn't seem lost. He was full of life and that made my heart full with fuel that is never going to run out.

I stood beside the starting line, watching as Hongjoong pulled up on his dark red bike. His black helmet was on, but I could still feel his intense gaze piercing through it as he twisted the throttle, preparing to race against the competitor beside him. Then the guy in the middle counted back and all I saw was smoke that came from their tires. Whoever was faster won. It seemed like the guy was faster than Hongjoong at first and my heart was racing along with Hongjoong as I prayed for him to win this. Then it seemed this was all the guy could pull out from his bike because Hongjoong flew through the finish line in a blink of an eye.

I saw as he stopped and bumped his fist into the air. I smiled he looked so cool from far away. As Hongjoong turned to come back to me on his bike, red and blue lights started to blind the people who were standing on the roof of a parking lot. The police were here.

I started to look around because I lost Hongjoong as the crowd started to run haphazardly panicking not to be caught by the police. Then a familiar bike pulled next to me and I felt relieved as Hongjoong offered his hand with a helmet. I saw his sharp eyes as he lifted the visor of his helmet, the red and blue lights dancing on his face.

"Come on, princess," He mumbled through his helmet. I accepted his inviting hand and took the helmet as I settled behind him on the bike. Hongjoong took my hand and pulled me close to his back as I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head on his shoulder. I smiled even though we probably needed to get away from there as soon as we could. But it was an adventure just as everything with Hongjoong. I knew if he was there with me, life just couldn't be boring.

Hongjoong rolled through the people carefully and when we managed to get out of the parking lot where I saw the police caught a few people, we finally speeded through the highway. The city lights faded into one thin line as we passed by the big buildings. I never felt this free, I suddenly understood why was Hongjoong so passionate about biking. It gave you the free will, the power to just disappear between the city lights. As we speeded through the highway, I raised one of my hands into the chilly air and chuckled. I just felt so happy the world just stopped for a moment and it was just only us; Hongjoong, the bike, and me. I looked up at the sky, where one side of it was black as the night and the other side was a shade of orange as the sun just started to rise. It was so beautiful.

When Hongjoong stopped at a parking lot as we passed some mountains and drove through some windings the view was more beautiful. Mesmerizing if I may say so. It's hard to describe something like this. We were in the middle of a mountain and at the edge of it all I could see were clouds. The city was covered in white clouds, the sky still painted bright yellow and orange, with a little hint of red that reminded me of Hongjoong's hair. It was like we were three meters above the sky.

We were still sitting on Hongjoong's bike both of us were just mesmerized by the view, only bothered to take off the helmet as we switched places and Hongjoong hugged me from behind, his head on top of mine as I leaned against his chest, his legs were balancing the both of us on the bike. We were sitting there in a comfortable silence as we took in the view in from of us, melting into each other’s presence. Hongjoong nudged me to get off the bike, helping me dismount before stepping off himself. He took my hands in his, lifting them to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

"Forgive me for being an asshole. I just—after our kiss…but to be honest way before that…I just couldn't get you out of my mind." He stated sincerely as his eyes sparkled with hope. "When I saw, what San was doing to you, I could have killed him right there. But even after everything, you still went with him yesterday. I'm not going to pretend it didn’t hurt, but I guess I deserved it..." He looked down at our hands, gently tracing my knuckles with his fingers.

"I needed closure, Joong. I couldn’t move on until everything with San was cleared up. That’s why I needed to talk with him. It’s done now." Hongjoong lifted his head, a sense of relief evident on his face. "And about Jongho…"

"I talked with him, I told everything to him, about the fight with San, about our kiss afterward, that I have feelings for you, I told everything and he understood it." He seemed desperate, afraid of me stepping back again because of my brother.

"I talked with him too. He told me to go to your race because you needed me." I smiled sheepishly looking at our hands. Suddenly I felt as my cheeks started to blush.

"He was right. My mind was a mess. I wasn’t sure if I could win this." He admitted.

"Did you like it?" He asked with a beaming smile, his perfect-white teeth showing.

"Very much," I said feeling excited as I smiled. "But it was better riding with you through the city."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer to me as he hovered over me, his hands on my waist as he turned me to lean against his bike that was standing still. "Do you want to repeat it?" He asked as he leaned down his lips brushing slightly against mine.

"Definitely," I started looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Anything for my princess." His lips curled up as I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but I didn't have the time to complain as his lips were on mine in no time. It felt so good and so right. The passion I felt towards Hongjoong was beyond the universe. His lips moved against mine as I wrapped my hands around his neck, my fingers traveling up on his nape into his red strings as I brushed my fingers through it. He deepened the kiss by cupping one side of my face into his hand and lifting my head so he had better access. Sudden fireworks erupted in my chest, the burning desire igniting and exploding within my heart. Then his hands traveled down to my thighs as he traced his hands through them, then to the back of my thighs as he slowly lifted me to his bike so I was at the same height level as him. I wrapped my legs around his torso as his lips still moved against mine. I couldn't breathe anymore but I just couldn't stop because it was addicting kissing him, I felt like I never wanted to stop because if I did, I might disappear. It didn't feel real. He groaned lowly when his tongue got free access into my mouth, discovering every inch of my mouth. His hands were on my waist holding me still, afraid of falling off his bike. When he finally pulled away, after what felt like an eternity but still wasn’t long enough, he rested his forehead against mine and whispered.

"Let me take care of you now. Let me give you what you deserve."

(Ateez masterlist)

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earlysunshines · 8 months ago

Text

watch me take my time

park jihyo x fem!reader ; fluff, smut ; read tutor perks first! this is pt. 2

synopsis: surprising the woman you're dating with tea and pastries turns into a steamy evening, and a more sentimental morning after

warnings: mommy kink ; jihyo receving, reader giving ; jihyo in control for the most part ; smut! ; smut :3 ; and smut ; cursing ; fucking on the couch!!! ; face riding ; yeaahh anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread, as always lol

a/n: hey! i wasn't sure what to do for a part two, i never know. i didn't really expect tutor perks to get THAT much attention. anyway, I just went with whatever I felt like, i hope you guys like it. lmk what you think!

the parking garage was quite mesmerizing, adorned with lush greenery and meticulously planned layouts. it was a stark contrast to the parking spot on campus that was a fifteen-minute walk from the main campus. compared to the $225 spot at your university, this was undeniably better.

“is this the right place?” sarah, your roommate, asks. “because if it is... you coined a whole sugar mommy.”

“oh shut up.” you say, blushing. sarah laughs at you, then gives you a little hug.

“whatever, get out my car. i have to go see my girlfriend.” sarah says jokingly, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

“yeah yeah, see you, love you, bye.” you mutter before getting out the car and shutting the door, watching sarah wave at you teasingly.

walking towards the actual building — littered with plants and the beauty of the exterior catching you off guard — just the sight of it was enough to make you nervous. still, you manage to open the door and step in, feeling intimidated almost immediately just from seeing everyone inside the lobby.

the corporate image time ten was right in front of you: men in suits tailored to perfection exuded an air of confidence as they made way through the bustling lobby, their attention divided between important phone calls and firm handshakes with other mirror images of themselves. meanwhile, women clad in sleek blazers formed clusters, their conversations punctuated by polite laughter and the occasional sip of coffee.

it was safe to assume that you didn’t really fit in, you couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water in the moment. so, while clutching a bag of pastries and a cup of iced tea from your shift at work, you made a conscious effort to blend into the background as you walked up to the lady behind the desk up front. thankfully, that wasn’t too hard given everyone had been occupied with their own things.

the lady, a shorter looking woman with hair tied up professionally, looked at you unamusingly. she raised a brow as you looked at her, putting a finger up to pause you in place since she looked like she was preoccupied with a phone call.

you balanced the small brown bag of pastries and iced tea in one hand, then moved over to fix the tote bag on your shoulder. the lady finished her call, then turned to you and spoke in a monotoned, uninterested tone.

“hi, how can i help you?”

“hi, um, is jihyo here? she’s still working, right?”

“and who are you?” she asks, looking offended that you even asked that question.

taken aback, you grow a little bashful and respond, “y/n l/n, i'm a...” you clear your throat, “friend of hers. she said if i wanted to stop by, now would be a good time.”

“yeah, alright. you expect me to believe you that miss park said you could stop by?”

“excuse me?” you say, immediately feeling belittled by her tone and look at you. “what do you mean by me? is there something wrong?”

the lady lets out a noise thats a mix of a laugh and a scoff. she sighs, looking down at her desk and pointing down at a paper before responding.

“miss park is a very busy woman, you know that, right? i have to make sure that this is an urgent thing, otherwise, you can see yourself out the door.”

the condescending tone in the desk lady's voice grates on your nerves, sparking irritation within you. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead fixing her with a steely gaze as you suppress the retort bubbling up inside you.

"i get that jihyo is busy, seriously," you reply evenly, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. "i'll call her right now if you need confirmation. i have her number and everything. she even texted me—"

"she what?" the desk lady interrupts, her expression shifting from dismissive to incredulous. "you-- you have her personal number?"

"of course i do, it's jihyo we're talking about," you respond matter-of-factly, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the surprise evident in the woman's reaction.

"i didn't think—wow," the desk lady stammers, clearly caught off guard. she clears her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "miss park doesn’t give anyone here her personal number. s-sorry, i'm a bit taken aback. i'll have someone escort you. i'm sorry for the inconvenience, miss—"

"it's y/n," you interject, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the sudden shift in demeanor from the desk lady. it's almost amusing how quickly she seems to have changed her tune, now treating you with an unexpected level of deference.

the desk lady nods and begins making arrangements for your escort, you can't help but feel a sense of validation at the realization of just how highly regarded jihyo must be. the fact that you have her personal number suddenly feels like some sort of badge of honor, you must be lucky to just know her or interact with her casually—especially in bed, that must be better than any trophy or award. maybe even better than a grammy or something.

a tall, frail older man is by your side in the next minute. before you leave, the lady smiles at you – maybe a little forced given the unnatrual expression – then picks up the phone again, seemingly dialing a number.

the man leads you to an elevator and presses the second to last button, indicating the 11th floor. as the elevator ascends, you stand beside him, taking note of his impeccable posture and the condition of his suit. not a single crease in the fabric, he had to be some kind of perfectionist.

when the elevator doors slide open on the 11th floor, the man steps aside and gestures for you to exit first. his actions are formal, almost ceremonial, and you can't help but feel a sense of significance in the gesture. despite being just a girl who's clocked off work, you find yourself appreciating the unexpected treatment. you’re not against any of this treatment, however.

once you step out of the elevator, the man gestures for you to follow him down the corridor. as you walk, you can't help but be captivated by your surroundings. the corridor is lined with large windows that offer expansive views of the city, bathing the space in natural light and providing a breathtaking backdrop as you continue through the building.

the floor itself is decorated with tasteful elegance, oozing an air of professionalism and refinement. everything is thoroughly arranged, from the sleek furniture to the artful accents that adorn the walls. it's a space that balances functionality and cliche professionalism with an aesthetic appeal, creating an atmosphere that feels both welcoming and authoritative. if this is just one of the floors, you can’t even imagine how wonderful the rest of the building is. maybe jihyo will get to show it to you sometime.

passing by the employees that type away or take calls, he leads you to a room that has large windows, displaying the blinds that block whatever – or whoever – is inside. a sign is plastered on it that says park jihyo, indicating that this is right where you wanted to be.

he knocks on the door three times – somehow sophisticated and professional – then says in his deep voice,

“miss park, i'm sorry to interrupt. you have a visitor.”

silence takes over for a bit before the door is opened, revealing a tired looking jihyo in her blazer and slacks. she doesn’t see you at first, sending daggers at the man covering you before saying in a stern tone,

"chang, you know i'm busy with emails—" jihyo begins, her voice trailing off as she catches sight of you standing in the doorway. immediately, her demeanor softens, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

clearing her throat, she regains her composure and gestures for you to enter her office. "ah, y/n, come in," she says, her voice warm and welcoming. turning to the man, chang, she nods in appreciation. "chang, you're dismissed. thank you for escorting her."

chang nods respectfully and takes his leave, leaving you alone with jihyo in her office. as the door closes behind him. jihyo wastes no time in closing the distance between you as soon as the coast is clear.

her hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you close with a gentle yet firm touch. you feel a rush of warmth as her lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. her smile is evident even in the midst of the kiss, and you can't help but mirror her expression, returning the affection with the curve of your own lips.

you pull away, lips inches apart. jihyo smiles at you sweetly.

“what are you doing here?”

“you said you would be relatively free, i just got off work. i got you something to eat, figured you’d be hungry and... i wanted to see you.”

it's been almost three months since your first – very intimate – night with jihyo. the two of you continue to see each other, both intimately and regularly. dating jihyo has been pretty nice, though both of you have times where you don’t have time to see each other, so it’s nice to have moments like these.

as the weeks turn into almost three months, your relationship with jihyo continues to evolve. jihyo asked you out on proper dates, rather than her eating you out, she wanted to eat something else and get to know you better.

despite the demands of your respective schedules, the two of you make a concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. whether it's her inviting you over when her nephew isn’t around to evenings spent curled up together on the couch or having wine and a conversation. every moment shared with jihyo was precious

dating jihyo has brought a sense of joy into your life, a feeling of being understood and cherished in a way that you've never experienced before, none of your high school relationships made you feel this way. and while there are times when conflicting schedules and obligations pulled you apart, those moments only serve to make the time you spend together even more precious.

“you’re so sweet honey, come, sit.” jihyo says thankfully, guiding you to the large couch that gives you an even better view of the city.

you sit next to her and place the goods on the table, then immediately. she rests her head against your shoulder. a smile plays across your lips, and slight worry seeps into your skin. jihyo must be tired, judging from how limp she is against you, so you grab her hands and hold them gently, rubbing her knuckles and letting her relax a bit.

as you sit down next to jihyo and place the goods on the table, you can't help but notice the fatigue etched into her features. she leans her head against your shoulder, a smile plays across your lips as you feel her weight against you, but a slight twinge of worry creeps into your heart. jihyo must be exhausted, judging from how limp she is against you. without a word, you reach out and gently take her hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with hers.

you begin to rub her knuckles soothingly, hoping to ease some of the tension that seems to have taken hold of her. her fingers are a little bonier, hands noticeably more mature given the slight age gap between the two of you. a ring is around the base of her middle finger, something expensive looking with a small apricot-colored gem in it. in the warmth of your touch seems to relax her, and you can feel the tension slowly melting away as she leans into your embrace.

“you seem drained, was work exhausting?” you ask, turning to face her.

“just some really incompetent men and everything has been getting on my nerves. lots of deadlines that need to be met and some of my employees have been slacking.” jihyo sighs, “things are getting better, though. i made some... arrangements that should have things back in order.”

“i see.” you say, playing with her fingers. you press a kiss to the top of her head and reach for the iced tea, moving the straw to her mouth. “this should give you some energy, it’s the house tea, something peachy and sweet.”

“aw, you’re too kind, doll.” she says, pouting her lower lip before taking a sip. she takes a few more sips before grabbing the drink from your hand and setting it down on the table, then pecks your lips. “you’re seriously a gift, darling.”

almost three months and her little petnames still make your heart race, you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to them.

“sweetheart, if it’s not too much, could you massage my upper back? there's a lot of tension, god, it’s killing me.”

“of course.”

jihyo turns away from you so that her back faces you, and you place your hands on her tense shoulders. squeezing lightly to get her accustomed, she immediately relaxes into your touch, sighing as you massage her. she moves her head down so you can reach more of the stiff areas, and once your thumbs add more pressure, she lets out a louder sigh, more of a groan that makes you giggle, and leaving some room for imagination to other ways that can make her sound like that.

as jihyo turns away, her back facing you, you instinctively place your hands on her tense shoulders. with gentle pressure, you begin to massage her muscles, hoping to provide some relief from the tension that has accumulated there from whatever she’s been up to all day.

at first, jihyo tenses slightly at your touch, but as you continue to knead her shoulders, she gradually relaxes into your hands. a soft sigh escapes her lips as she leans into your touch, allowing you better access to the stiff areas of her muscles.

you adjust your position slightly, moving your hands to target the areas of greatest tension. with firm yet gentle pressure, you work your thumbs into the knots, eliciting a deeper sigh from jihyo's lips. the sound is more of a groan, and it sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a playful giggle.

“good?”

“ah- great.” she says through gritted teeth. she moves her hair over to once side, then asks, “can you get this side for me?” to which you respond with a hum.

as you continue to massage her shoulders, you can't help but let your mind wander, imagining other ways to draw out this genre of sounds from her. but for now, you're content to focus on the task at hand, providing jihyo with the comfort and relaxation she so desperately needs. and as you feel her muscles begin to loosen beneath your touch, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you're able to provide her with some relief.

however, this doesn’t necessarily mean that your mind is completely free of other intimate scenarios.

jihyo gets a little louder, failing to suppress the groans that slip past her lips. your hands slow down, instead, you start to slide your hands down her back and around her waist, gently placing them on the sides. leaning closer, you place a chaste kiss on the skin that isn’t covered by her hair, smirking into her.

“what are you doing honey?” she asks softly, turning her head just barely to catch you in her peripheral.

instead of responding verbally, you press longer, lingering kisses along jihyo's neck. with each gentle caress of your lips, she begins to relax further, her body responding to the intimacy of your affection.

sensing her movement, you feel her hand come to rest lightly on your head, her fingers tangling softly in your hair. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth spreads throughout your body as you continue to place kisses along her neck.

slowly, almost imperceptibly, jihyo begins to turn toward you, her movements guided by the gentle coaxing of your lips against her skin. as she shifts, her hand remains on your head, the gentle pressure of her touch grounding you in the moment. with each kiss, you feel the tension melting away from jihyo's body.

finally, when she’s turned towards you, you catch her lips with your own. jihyo hums into the kiss, her hand moving from your head to the base of your neck, then to your shoulder.

you pull away briefly to mutter, “feeling better?” to which jihyo responds by pulling you in by the hem of your jacket, closing the distance again.

as the kisses between you and jihyo grow soft and slow, a familiar heat begins to build between you. your tongues meet again, this wouldn’t be the first time for sure.

feeling a surge of need coursing through you, you subtly shift your position, guiding jihyo down until she's reclining on the couch. with a smooth, fluid motion, you position yourself on top of her, your body pressing against hers, heat radiating off the two of you.

in this moment, you find yourself taking control – in contrast to how it usually goes. as you deepen the kiss, your hands roam freely over jihyo's body, tracing the curves of her figure before sliding your hands under the edge of her shirt. she gasps at the feeling of your fingers on her skin, leaving you to kiss the corner of her mouth and trail down.

with jihyo beneath you, her body yielding to your touch as you trail kisses down to her neck, you feel a sense of power and satisfaction wash over. you nip gently at her neck – careful not to make any noticeable marks – while she claws at your clothing.

“baby-- darling, god,” she groans as you nip at the right spot with your teeth. she lets you indulge for a few minutes more, clearly enjoying it as much as you do before halting your actions as you slide your hands up closer to her chest under her shirt.

you pause, pulling away and looking at her with confusion, “sorry, too much?”

“never too much,” jihyo assures, placing a hand on your cheek while she catches her breath. “my employees are outside.”

your eyes widen, then you get the message and mutter, “oh.”

jihyo giggles at your response before lifting her head up to kiss you deeply again, pulling away with a noticeable sound made from your lips parting. “you’re adorable.” she says before grabbing your phone out your pocket and checking the time briefly. “my nephew isn’t home, so how about we get situated at my place? i should’ve left the office thirty minutes ago.”

“anything you’d like.”

with jihyo’s purse in your hand, you follow her into the house. the lights are off and it’s clear that no one’s home, leaving many possible opportunities for the two of you and even more scenarios to run through your head.

“have you had dinner? and don’t say you’ve had those pastries, that’s not enough darling.” jihyo says lightheartedly, though stern enough to let you know she’s serious. she places her purse on the counter and takes off her blazer, which reveals the shirt hugging her figure neatly. she's looking through the purse now, back faced you and you can’t help but check her out briefly. “if not, i'll order takeout.”

“that’s perfect.” you respond. jihyo turns towards you and grins, walking over and pecking your lips.

“yeah, i'll grab us some wine. order anything you’d like, love.”

“i’ve been craving bento bowls, is something japanese fine?”

“anything is fine, i'm starving even after that scone.” jihyo giggles, “also, it’s almost six. i have a little work call to answer, but after that we have the rest of tonight and the weekend if you’re not occupied with classes.”

“perfect, i'll just order for pick up then and then i'll be back in time for us to eat and whatnot. sound okay?” “that’s lovely, then i'll have to find my favorite wine for us. the best for the best.”

you giggle before pressing your lips against hers again, pulling away just barely before she closes the distance again. her arms rest on her shoulders as she pushes you closer, then she deepens the kiss.

without thinking, you move yourselves over so that jihyo’s against the counter, your hands sliding under her shirt yet again and lips sliding down to the soft skin on her neck. she groans at the feeling, tilting her head back to give you more access to her as she tightens her hold on your shoulder.

“later tonight,” you mutter in between kisses, rubbing circles on her skin under her shirt. “let me help you relax, yeah?” you nip at her skin lightly and she lets out a sharp breath, hand moving to the side of your neck. “let me do the work this time, you deserve to sit back for once.”

“y/n--” jihyo begins, but is cut off by the sound of a phone ringing against the counter. she groans in frustration; this is the angriest you’ve seen her. her brows furrow and she tenses her jaw as she picks up the phone, then looks at you apologetically.

“you should take that.”

jihyo sighs, then kisses your nose. “you should order dinner.”

“mhm.” you mumble before kissing her jawline, removing your hands from under her shirt and jihyo whines just barely. her skin seems colder now that your hands aren’t on them, tracing patterns and rubbing up and down the landmarks.

jihyo gave you the keys before you had left, so you didn’t have to ring the doorbell or anything – you assumed she’d still be on that work call.

as you enter the room, you find jihyo standing against the counter, her posture tense and her expression drawn with frustration. she's wearing something different: a cropped t-shirt and comfy sweatpants instead of her work attire. with one hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose, while the other holds a phone to her ear. she listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she navigates the seemingly irritating conversation on the other end of the line.

one arm crosses defensively while her gaze remains fixed on some distant point on the wood floor. to her left, on the smooth marble countertop, you notice two glasses and an unopened bottle of white wine.

“yes, i already have my employees on it.” you hear her say, tone stern yet level. “look, according to the results and feedback we’re doing fine, so i don’t understand why this meeting is still in session. i know you want to be secure, but doubting me won’t secure what’s already set. everything is fine, so go talk to samuel if you really want to bicker with someone who can’t do their job. he's been slacking with his unit; i've seen the data. goodbye.”

a small “ugh” is muttered under her breath before she places the phone down, then looks over to see you standing in the entrance of the hallway. a smile tugs at her lips immediately upon seeing you.

“two teriyaki salmon bentos for the struggling college student and her beautiful, older, hardworking, hot older woman.”

jihyo snickers, laughing at your stupid little titles. “calling me old?”

“well maybe... i’m into that though, so stay old.”

jihyo rolls her eyes at you, then watches you pull out the to go bowls out onto the table nearby. she walks over herself and brings the glasses and the wine bottle over. before she takes out the cork with her tool, she places a kiss on your cheek and mumbles against you a soft, “thank you.”

you grin and kiss her back before going back to the kitchen to grab utensils, and then back to the table to sit down next to your lover.

grabbing the boxes and handing jihyo a spoon, you ask, “how was your day? work seemed rough.”

a sigh leaves her lips, her aura radiating exhaustion and irriation, yet she stays calm and content before your eyes.

“just a lot of deadlines and dreadful people to deal with today, but it’s over and you made me feel better.”

“i’m glad.” you say, putting a hand on her thigh. “let’s eat, maybe you’ll be less exhausted.” to which jihyo responds with a nod and a kiss to your knuckles.

the sliding door in front of you two gave a great view of the setting sun, which made dinner quite romantic. jihyo shared more about her day, though it was mostly complaints mixed with frustrated grunts and groans when bringing up the men she had to face. you on the other hand, shared some small anecdotes from your shift and your roommate's own drama to jihyo, which she enjoyed listening to. before you knew it, dinner was finished – bowls clean and all, barely any remnants of the food left – which urged you two to throw away the plastic containers and head to the couch to sit and sip on wine.

jihyo sat beside you and swirled her wine around before sniffing, then took a small sip. you did the same, eyes lighting up from how good it was, which made jihyo laugh. and then the two of you went on to talk about more small things, ranging from what annoyed each of you during the day and things you both looked forward to.

the next thing you knew, your head was against jihyo’s shoulder, and your now empty glass was set on the table with hers.

“at least the day is over, hyo.”

she snickers upon hearing the name, then turns to you with a smile.

“hyo?”

“sorry, don’t like that name?”

“no, i love it. it's cute.” she assures, “adorable.”

“yeah?” you say, grinning. shifting yourself up to sit up right, you brush a strand of hair behind jihyo’s ear. “any plans tomorrow?” you ask, staring at her lips blatantly.

“no, what are you up to darling?”

you giggle and run your hand down to her jaw, placing your thumb on her lip and applying subtle pressure.

“let me help you relax tonight.” you simply answer, smirking devilishly. “seems like you need it.”

in no time, your lips make their way over to hers, you kiss her slowly and savor her. she places her hand on your shoulder, gripping slightly as you deepen the kiss.

your hands find their way under jihyo’s shirt again in no time, though at first, your fingers simply brush against her skin before doing anything big. you're taking your time exploring her, finding out which area on her rib makes her kiss sloppier or her breath shorter. you feel her responding to your touch, her movements becoming more urgent, more fervent.

jihyo's hands roam over your body in tandem with your own explorations, one hand in your hair and the other on the base of your wrist. you're both consumed by the heat of the moment, kisses with more tongue, breaths heavier, and jihyo’s groans getting louder. it's perfect.

you create a gap between the two of you after pulling away, your own breath heavy. jihyo looks at you: red, puffy lips and peach colored cheeks from the intimacy.

looking down at the edge of jihyo’s shirt, you silently ask to take it off by playing with the edge of the fabric.

“take it off.” she says lowly, almost an order.

nodding, you slip the shirt off, gazing at her clad chest.

you've seen her naked before – more than you can count on one hand – yet, she still manages to leave you in awe.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” you sigh, immediately making your way over to her neck. “i could have you like this all day.” you groan against her skin, right before sucking near her pulse point so harshly to the point where she moans your name out, subconsciously gripping your hair and tugging so roughly it hurts your scalp.

blindly, you start to unclasp her bra, discarding it somewhere in the room – you could care less where it landed – and tending to the new area exposed.

a brush of your finger on her nipple already has it perked up, making her groan loudly. saying it’s music to your ears would be an understatement, it’s better than any symphony.

“y/n, baby,” jihyo moans, feeling a wetness pooling down in between her legs. “ah-”

your mouth lands on her chest, then down to her tits. you press a chaste kiss to her tits, making her look down at you with furrowed brows and parted lips. with full eye contact, you travel to the swell of her breast, finding your way to her nipple and swirling your tongue around. the way you suck on her sensitivity is enough to make her groan right in front of your face. the way her mouth gapes and oh, how lovely she sounds; you could get used to this for sure.

and later you pay attention to her other breast, treating it with the same care and evoking more lewd sounds from the older woman. the way she folds under your touch, twitching and slowly losing herself while she’s weak to you; jihyo could use more rest days, especially ones that have hours dedicated to you indulging in her.

moments later, after earning at least a song’s duration of jihyo’s indescribable pleasure seeping from her lips, you decide to look at the mess you’ve made.

marks of pink ranging to a darker red – even a near purple – are littered all over her skin, from her neck to all over her chest area. you bite your lip at the sight, rubbing your finger along a few of the hickeys.

“y/n, baby,” jihyo starts, looking at you intensely. “shirt off, down on the couch now. don't make me ask twice.” she orders breathlessly, narrowing her eyes and expecting immediate obedience – which she receives without question.

despite how much you’ve riled up and left her, she still has that natural authority. there's absolutely no way you could disobey her, at the end of the day, no matter what you’ve done to her; you belong to jihyo now, no doubt.

“yes ma’am.”

as you slip the shirt off in one motion, jihyo uses that short duration of time to slip off her comfortable pants, discarding them and slipping her panties off. she watches you – who's watching her in return – you're propped up by your elbows as you watch her sit on your lap, feeling your pussy throb just from the feeling of her bare cunt on the denim covering your heat.

“good girl, always. you know how to listen to me, glad you know your place.”

“of course.” you say, looking at her with desperate eyes.

“you know how i've told you about today, yeah? it was so difficult, so many incompetent people. you’re going to listen to me, okay? you're gonna let mommy use you just like the good girl you are, got it?”

taken aback by the new title, you hesitate to respond, too entranced by the sight in front of you: jihyo completely naked, on your nap, with her hands resting on your abdomen to hold herself up. when she doesn’t get a response from you, she grinds harshly against your lap, earning a pathetic whine from you.

she presses her hand down on your abdomen harder, earning a sharp breath from your lips.

“you answer me when i talk to you, i won’t say this again.”

“y-yes, sorry.”

she leans closer, her face above yours and gaze sharp. “yes who?”

with no hesitation, you correct yourself. “yes mommy, i'm sorry, i'll be a good girl from now on.”

jihyo smiles, pleased to say the least.

“down on the couch then honey, on your back.” she says gently, though there’s still that stern tone.

you gulp, then nod. jihyo smiles as you set your head down, putting your arms off to the side so your hands can gently caress her thighs. she gets up on her knees, repositioning herself so that her cunt is hovering above your chin, then stroking your cheek lightly. you look at her with puppy eyes, silently begging for her to let you get a taste; she gets the message almost immediately, then sets her cunt right above your mouth.

your hands reach for the sides of her waist, moving her down just an inch so you can get a taste of her arousal.

she groans again, throwing her head back before looking back at you with creased brows: your cheeks are red, your eyes are closed, and you’re humming against her while you eat her out ravenously. the last time you had eaten someone out had been a while ago, and jihyo’s been the one fucking you to oblivion since the first night with her. you're following her body, sliding your tongue up her folds and sucking on her clit once you reach. she gasps and grips your hair the way you like it, rough and demanding. her nails dig into your scalp, and you let out a little moan yourself, turned on just as much as you are when she’s doing everything to you.

attentive to the sounds she’s making, you keep doing what earns the more pleasing reactions. she's griding against the flat of your tongue, forcibly pushing your mouth into her wetness the more you indulge. she's moaning louder, her deep, mature voice growing breathy and higher pitched the more you please her.

and then she shifts your lips over to the left side of her clit, so you suck and lick and groan until the living room is filled with the sound of squelches of her pussy and your mouth coming into contact mixed with moans that fade into nothing as they’re caught in throats. jihyo's cursing more and more, holding you in one spot with that one hand gripping onto your hair like there’s no tomorrow whilst she grinds herself on your tongue and completely uses you.

“y/n, y/n darling, honey, fuck, ah-!” she cries out, shaking until she isn’t, propping herself up with one hand on your hip bone and the other loosening her grip on your now disheveled hair. she grinds slowly now, still stimulating the aching between her legs whilst you clean up all her climax with your tongue.

slowly, you take your time licking up her folds, savoring her. a press to her clit later and you're pressing more on her inner thigh until she shifts herself off your face and back to your lap.

she runs a hand through her hair – some strands sticking to her forehead.

you catch your breath, then sit up a little bit, jihyo still in your lap.

“feeling better?” you ask, your hand settling on her explosed ribcage before moving up to cup the bottom of her tit.

“much better.” she grins, fixing the hair she’s ruined. strands fall over your face, she runs a few fingers through to fix it up again.

laughing, you lean closer to press a kiss to her lips, smirking once you part away.

“y/n,” jihyo begins, twirling a piece of hair with her fingers. “you’ll be a good girl, right?”

you nod.

“good, because the night isn’t over.” she says menacingly, looking at you with darkened pupils. “on the ground, on your knees. you're gonna eat mommy out until she’s satisfied, got it?”

“yes ma’am, yes mommy.” you say, immediately switching positions.

jihyo watches you move over to the ground, the visible patch of arousal apparent on your denim as you kneel. she traces down the grooves of your torso, indulging in the sight before sitting back and spreading her legs.

seeing her like this, you lick your lips. you're like an obedient puppy, eager to receive her approval and eager to serve her in any way she sees fit.

jihyo raises her brows at the sight and smiles devilishly at how pathetic you look. she gives you the green light after relishing your submission.

“eat.”

just like every other morning, you’re stuck in jihyo’s bed half naked. some sports bra covers the upper half of your body, and boy shorts hug the skin just below your waist. the older woman’s hands are wrapped around your waist, one hand sitting on the exposed hip bone that pops out, and she’s warm against you, her chest rising and falling against your back.

shifting subtly in your place, you turn over to face her.

her face is bare, no makeup on and it’s just jihyo before you. she's rubbing her hands on the exposed skin on your hip, mumbling something groggily under her breath. it's been a while since you’ve seen her like this – it's been a bit since you’ve been alone with her, really alone, just the two of you and no one else or worry of interruption.

“mm, honey,” jihyo mumbles, and you can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep while saying this. “closer.”

“okay.”

you find your nose in the crook of her neck, smelling faint hints of lavender while you press closing. she rubs your shoulder with her thumb, tracing patterns and shapes you can’t really put a name on. the sun hits her eyes, you hear a little groan, and then a little yawn that gives you the hint that she’s fully awake.

a hand finds itself tangled in your hair, then massages your scalp. “did you sleep alright?” jihyo asks, voice gentle and caring as she holds you.

“i slept great, you?”

“wonderfully.”

a kiss is pressed to your forehead and fingers play with the rim of your boy shorts. a soft smile plays across your face, you close your eyes and breathe out.

“sweetheart.” jihyo hums, tapping your shoulder.

“hm?”

“i realized i've never really, fully expressed how thankful i am for you.”

upon hearing jihyo’s sentimental words, you pull away from where your face had been nestled, face to face with jihyo now.

“what?”

“i haven’t been that, well--” jihyo’s face flushes – to oyur surprise – she looks down at your clad chest, then back at your eyes. “relaxed. you helped me unwind, thank you.”

you can’t help but giggle, finidng all of this so cute. jihyo had been ordering you around last night, moaning so loud the neighbors probably heard. you can still feel a little ache in your scalp from how roughly she was pulling at your hair; everything about the night before was so lewd. it's funny how vulnerable and cute jihyo’s being right now, letting her heart do the talking.

“you’re adorable, hyo.” you sigh, looking at her with admiration. “i’m glad i was there to help, and i'm looking forward to helping out whenever you want.”

“y/n.” jihyo begins, placing her hand on your cheek and looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “will you be my girlfriend?”

giggling again upon hearing the seriousness in her voice and the adorable look on her face, you nod.

“of course.”

at the end of the weekend – a beautiful sunday evening, the sky painted hues of pink and purple – you’re in your desginated spot: the passenger’s side of jihyo’s car.

both of you sit in silence as jihyo exits the freeway, some pop song playing on the radio. her hand is intertwined with yours, elbows sitting on the little compartment that seperates the two seats. she's humming along and it’s music to your ears, you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch her.

sunglasses sit on the crown of her head, her side profile staying in its place while the scenery behind her flashes by as the car moves forward. she's beautiful.

once you reach your apartment complex, jihyo parks somewhere close.

“don’t move, just stay there.” you warn her, sounding all serious and looking at her with raised brows.

“darling, what?” she asks, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she giggles once you leave the car hurriedly, rushing towards the other side to open her door.

“miss park.” you say, putting your hand out. jihyo laughs, amused at your little gesture. she takes your hand and steps out, rolling her eyes at you.

“you’re unbelieveable.”

“well, after seeing how scared everyone was at your work place the other day, i feel like i should treat you better.”

“you’re my girlfriend, not my employee y/n.” jihyo scoffs, then kisses the back of your hand.

once you make it to your apartment, you knock on the door, waiting for the familiar face to open the door for you.

sarah opens the door a few seconds later, eyes widnening upon seeing you and jihyo right in front of her – hands holding and all.

“oh my god you really did manage to get with her.” sarah says in disbelief, making you roll oyur eyes and the little comment making jihyo snicker. “you’re jihyo? wow, oh my god, you look so young – i mean, you are, like--”

“i get what you mean, thank you.” jihyo responds lightheartedly, smiling at the woman in front of her.

the two of you step in and sarah is still examining jihyo, baffled by how unreal she looks – and wow, your descriptions and rambles about this woman did not prepare her for this meeting. jihyo sets herself down on the couch and sarah pulls you to the side quickly before the two of you join her.

“oh my god when you said older woman i didn’t expect godly cheekbones, jawline sharper than a knife, and fucking luxury to show up holding your hand.”

“she’s amazing.”

“ugh, you’re drooling.” sarah sighs.

you smile at your roommate like a proud little kid, pushing her lightly before joining your now girlfriend on the couch.

maybe majoring in education was worth it, you think to yourself as you watch sarah grin at the two of you from across where you’re sitting. despite your dreadful research papers, essays, and mock lectures – all of it was worth it if it meant meeting jihyo.

sarah puts a leg over the other, leaning back against the smaller seat in your living room.

“you know, y/n has been gushing over you since like, the first time she tutored your nephew. she's kept me up at night just talking about--”

“sarah!”

#miinatozakiii #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #park jihyo #twice jihyo #jihyo imagines #jihyo x reader #park jihyo x reader

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writtenapoiogy · 4 months ago

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need you; jaime reyes

pairing: jaime reyes x f!reader

summary: you and jaime can’t keep your eyes and hands off each other at a cocktail party

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, groping, oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex, slight choking

a/n: i started writing this at the beginning of the year i just decided to finish it

You and Jaime were getting for a small cocktail party at Kord Industries to celebrate the new program Jenny is bringing to fruition.

Jaime was in an all-black outfit. Black slacks and a black button-up. He left the top two buttons loose.

You were wearing nothing special. A simple black dress. It hugged your curves perfectly. That, Jaime definitely appreciated.

He walked up to you as you were applying red lipstick to complete your look. He had to readjust himself looking at you in the mirror.

Your eyes meet his and you smiled as you finished applying your lipstick. Jaime wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” He mumbled into your neck before he placed a kiss to it.

He pulled you by your waist closer into him. You felt his hardness against your ass.

You spun around and placed your hands on his chest. “Jaime.” *add something here*

Jaime bit his lip and dropped his hands to your ass to pull you even more closer to him. His eyes were locked in on your lips.

There was something so mesmerizing to him about a red lip. Something about it that made all kinds of images flood his head.

Seeing your red lips wrapped around his cock. Or the lipstick being smudged from an intensely hot make out.

He leaned forward wishing to feel his lips against yours but you moved your head away just in time.

“C'mon, baby,” He whined. “Don’t be like that.”

You removed his hands from your ass and grabbed your purse. “We’re already late and I don’t feel like fixing my lipstick and scrubbing it off your mouth.”

You headed to the car leaving Jaime behind. He came outside and opened your door for you but made sure he laid a nice firm smack on your ass before you got in the car. He also made sure he whispered in your ear how good your ass looked in that dress.

From feeling how hard he was in the room and how drunk on you he looked when he was staring at your lips. You were starting to feel your stomach tie in a knot as you thought about him fucking you in your dress.

It wouldn’t be the first time Jaime was too impatient to take off your clothes. When he needed you, there was nothing getting in his way. Nothing.

On your way to the party, his hand stayed on your upper thigh dangerously close to where you were suddenly needing him most.

You unconsciously spread your legs slightly more. You saw Jaime smirk out of the corner of your eye. He then dragged his hand up till it was sitting in the crevice of your mound and your upper thigh.

“Jaime…” You gasped, barely audible.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, mami. Nah, remember what you told me? I thought we were late?” Jaime said as he pulled into the parking garage.

He lightly swiped his pinky against your clothed folds before he got out and made his way to your side of the car.

You groaned. This was either about to be the most excruciating night of your life or the most fun. However, two can play at that game.

Before he had the chance to open your door, you shimmed out of your underwear and threw it in the backseat.

When you guys went in you shook hands and hugged Jenny, got all the pleasantries done with.

It was nearly an hour into the event and you were having a conversation with a higher-up, someone who was under Jenny. And you were sending Jaime a look, a signal for help.

This conversation you were stuck in was boring you out of your mind. Jaime walked over to you and greeted the man you were speaking with and politely said he needed to steal you away and that it was urgent.

When he had finally got you away he whispered in your ear. “We won’t even be able to make it back to the house. I’m gonna fuck you in the back seat. You just look so good in that dress.” You felt his breath on your ear and shivered.

And for the next thirty minutes, Jaime left lingering touches upon your skin and kept teasing you till you had enough.

“You gonna be all talk tonight hm? Gonna finally do something about me and this dress? Or are you just gonna stand here making sly comments all night? Hm, baby?” You smirked at him as you pulled away from his ear.

He leaned down at you. “You know I want that more than anything, mi amor.” He spoke as he tilted your chin up. “But there is still an hour left in this party.”

You frowned at his response. And just as you were about to speak again someone had called his name.

He was walking away but you knew you needed to say something or it was gonna be a long night before he fucked you.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards you, “I need you. Please, Jaime, I need you so bad. I need to feel you inside of me.” You said in a hushed whisper.

You literally saw his eyes darken as you finished speaking, mere inches away from his face.

“Head to the Blue Beetle HQ. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

Jaime came strutting into the room as soon as he could. He had told everyone you weren’t feeling well and that he was going to check on something in the office then you two would be heading home.

As soon as he walked through the door he placed his hands on your hips, gripping you, and spun you around. He forcefully pushed you against a wall and crashed his lips against yours.

You both had been wanting that all night and it was nothing but lips and tongue rubbing against each other.

Jaime grabbed your ass and ground himself against you while groaning into your mouth, all you could do was hum back as a response. His hard-on was rubbing against you, the thin fabric of your dress not dulling the feeling one bit.

You curved your fingers over the hem of his pants and pulled him close. Your hands moved speedily as you began to unbuckle his belt.

He feels his hard cock leak with precome. He threw his hands down to meet yours, trying to speed up the process.

This drove Jaime absolutely insane. All those images that had played in his head earlier playing in 4K right in front of him. He loved having your mouth around him. Loved to fuck your throat and see you struggle to take him.

As soon as his pants loosened you brought your hand down to his member and started to jerk him slowly.

He looked so so pretty in front of you right now. His hair stuck to his forehead. Looking down at you all out of breath from your make out. Your red lipstick smeared all over his lips and chin.

You kept going. Speeding up and slowing down your pace as you pleased. He began to bite his lip as he couldn’t keep himself from moaning any longer. You smirked at him and then dropped down to your knees.

You brought the tip of his penis into your mouth and started to tease him. He jutted his hips forward ever so slightly but you took the hint.

You started to suck his cock like you were in need to taste his come to survive. Jaime was a mess above you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was left agape as his breath sped up and he was letting out breathless gasps. Trying so hard not to moan and praise you right now.

He finally opened his eyes and looked down at you and he almost lost it. He wrapped his hand around your hair and removed your other hand from his dick. He shoved your mouth down on him completely then immediately pulled you off. You had a thick line of saliva connecting you and Jaime’s cock.

Jaime let out a small whine before he tugged on your hair lightly before you got up. He pulled you into a deep kiss and he shoved his tongue in your mouth and walked you over to his desk.

As soon as your back hit the desk, he reluctantly pulled away from your lips. He turned you around and leaned against you, pushing you slightly against the desk.

“That’s not where I plan on coming tonight,” Jaime said lowly in your ear, almost in a growl.

All you could do was gasp at his words. He smirked against your ear before he dropped down to lift your dress up and lay you flat on the desk so your entire lower half was exposed to him.

You could hear the cockiness in his voice when he saw that you ditched your underwear. After all the touching and making out and even sucking his dick being a turn-on for you; you were sure to be soaked.

“Shit, baby. You must be so ready for me, hmm?” He laid a light smack on your ass before he slid his index finger into your warmth. “So wet for me.”

You moaned as low as you possibly could, trying to be quiet. All of your senses were heightened due to the fact that you two could get caught at any second. The fact that you couldn’t see the door wasn’t doing much to help that either.

“I’m gonna fuck your right here I think,” Jaime said as he added another finger to continue pumping into you.

“Jaime, No. Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“W-what if someone comes up here?”

“No one’s gonna come up here, mi amor. Just trust me, baby. I got you.” He slid his cock in, eliciting a gasp from you as he caught you off guard. The feeling of his bare cock inside of you had you shivering for more of his touch.

He started slow. Fucking into you deeply. Jaime most of the time was a gently lover but when he needed you desperately like right now? All of his rationality flew out the window.

He had one hand wrapped around your hair and the other was gripping your shoulder. He used that as leverage to fuck you deeper. His thrusts were perfect. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew your body so well all the ways to make you scream.

“J-jaime..” You trailed off. This position always intense for you. The tip of his dick constantly hitting that spot deep inside of you, making that familiar knot in your stomach tighten.

“Hmm,” He leaned against your back, his thrusts never wavering. His mouth and warm breath were right next to your ear. “What do you need princesa.”

“I wanna come.” Nothing but a whimper leaving your mouth.

Jaime pants. His thrusts getting jerky. “Oh, is that what you want?”

“Yes, Oh fuck.” You let out a low mewl as Jaimes fingers found your clit. “Fuck Jaime please, please.”

His mouth was on the side of your neck muttering praises in Spanish against the soft skin.”Come for me baby. Scream if you need to, I got you.” He lifted himself off of you bringing his hand that wasn’t on your clit around your throat. He sped up his pace wanting you to cover his cock in your essence.

At his words your body began to shake and you felt your orgasm hit you, hard. You practically screamed, your walls clenching and moistening his cock. His hand flew from your throat to your mouth to muffle your screams.

All of Jaimes senses flew to 100 as he finished inside of you with a groan. When both of your highs came down, he pulled his softening dick out of you with a wince. He pulled his pants back up and laid a kiss to your back. He fixed your dress and slowly turned you around to face him and placed a kiss to your lips.

“I love you so much,.” You smiled at him feeling his load leak out of you.

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes smut #jaime reyes #blue beetle #xolo maridueña #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes fic

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casuallyimagining · 1 year ago

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Two Hours || myg

otter hybrid yoongi x female reader

Summary: Your neighbor invites you to a work picnic that he's nervous to attend. You promise to only stay for two hours. Word Count: 2,870 Genre: slice of life, fake dating, friends to ???, fluff Warnings: none

Notes: Thank you to @park-jimin-isnt-real for the moodboard above, and to @rec-me-bts for the moodboard below that I used in the teaser. I had so much trouble deciding which one to use where. Also many many thanks to @oddinary4bts and @madbutgloriouspond for beta-ing this for me and for their endless sympathies while I basically had an existential crisis in their dms. Thank you for not telling me I am annoying 💙

The elevator dings and you step onto your floor. Your arm stings from carrying the grocery bags from the garage–they aren’t particularly full, but it’s just heavy enough and just long enough to get your out of shape muscles angry at you. The closer you get to your apartment, the more you notice a banging noise. And when you finally round the corner, you see its source.

Your across-the-hall neighbor, Yoongi, stands outside of his own apartment rattling his door angrily.

“Stuck again?” you ask, fishing out your keys with your free hand.

Yoongi grunts, the small ears on the top of his head pressing into his hair in frustration. Silently, he takes the bags out of your hand while you open your door.

“You should call the landlord again,” you tell him. He follows you inside as if it’s natural. Which, really, it is. This is the fourth time this month his door has jammed, effectively locking him out of his home until a locksmith showed up.

“I’d fix it myself if he’d let me.” He sets the bags on your counter and starts to hand you items. Strawberries, a bottle of coffee creamer, cucumbers and celery. He picks up a box of frozen fish sticks and flips it around to read. “You know this stuff is garbage, right?”

You ignore his commentary on your groceries. “You know Krolmeir’s never going to let you fix it. He’d have to lower your rent.”

He hums, and you can hear the underlying ‘jackass’ in the tone.

“Do you want me to call him?” you asked. Krolmeir–your landlord–likes you way more than he seems to like Yoongi. You’re almost positive you can guess why. But you aren’t afraid to use his skeeviness to your advantage.

“I called him just before you showed up.”

“And he said…?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Yoongi imitates Krolmeir’s voice–a high-pitched nasally whine more than anything. He rolls his eyes. “So he’ll be here sometime between five minutes from now and next Tuesday.”

You hum sympathetically. “Hang out here until he comes? I’ll make dinner.”

“Are you making fish sticks?”

“Thought about it.” His face scrunches up in disgust, a massive frown parts his lips, revealing his longer than human canine teeth. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I was actually just going to order something. Want to get sushi?”

His eyes light up, but when he speaks, his tone doesn’t match how excited he looks. “Whatever you want to do. I’m the one crashing your evening.”

You wave him off. He should know by now that he’s not imposing. You’ve been neighbors for a few years now. You’d started off just going grocery shopping together–it’s easier to carry groceries when there are two of you–and quickly progressed to taking refuge in each other’s apartments when something went wrong in your own. First, it had been your air conditioning crapping out that had driven you to Yoongi’s apartment to avoid the late-summer heat. Then, his oven stopped working, and he’d hidden in your living room while the landlord and the handyman made the repairs. Back and forth until a friendship had formed.

The sushi arrives and you settle in together on your couch. You prop your door open so that you can hear if the landlord arrives. He takes two bites of his sashimi before Yoongi hums urgently, causing you to pause the show you’d turned on for background noise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “So we’re having a potluck picnic thing at work, and someone decided it would be a great idea to make it mandatory.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But I get a plus one, so I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me? Make it a little more tolerable?”

“You want me to go to your dumb company picnic with you?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Nervously, he pokes at a grain of rice that had fallen off one of his nigiri.

“Sounds like it’s going to be not a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.”

You shrug. “I’m in.”

Yoongi is a ball of nerves as you shift into park. You’re definitely not the first ones here–there’s like ten other cars in the gravel lot, and you can see a large-ish group of people milling about the pavilion just up the hill. He alternates between patting his thigh and picking at the skin around his thumbnail. His ears press into his hair so far you can’t even see them. You know he doesn’t care for his coworkers, but you didn’t know it was this bad. Maybe it’s the crowd, or the fact that so many of his coworkers will be here. You aren’t sure, but you don’t like how affected he is.

You reach over and gently cover his hands with your own. He freezes. “Let’s make a game plan,” you say softly. He hums. “We’ll stay for how long? Two hours? An hour and a half?”

“Two I think. Since it’s mandatory.”

You nod. “Stay for two hours. We’ll talk to people, but if it starts to be too much, let me know.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. But then, he nods. “Let’s do this.”

You carry the dessert Yoongi made–partially because you’re a little worried he might drop it from nerves–and he sticks by your side. He’s got one hand in his pocket, but he’s so close that the other brushes against you every few steps.

The closer you get, the more the people in the pavilion notice you. You watch as one by one, then a few at a time, they watch you approach. And suddenly, you understand why Yoongi’s uncomfortable. Eventually, someone comes scuttling toward you.

“Hi Yoongi!” she calls, waving enthusiastically as she approaches.

“Oh. Hey Liz.” He presses closer. “We uh… we brought tiramisu.”

The woman–Liz–takes the container out of your hands. You make a small noise of protest, but she’s already gone, back up the hill to the pavilion and everyone else.

“Yoongi and his girlfriend brought dessert,” you hear her announce.

“Oh, tiramisu? Nice!” someone else–you can’t see who–says.

“No way. I thought he was going to bring something fishy.” Someone else, you can see them and you make a note that you hate them, laughs. A few others chuckle, too, and you also hate them.

They’re still laughing when you get to the pavilion. You’re introduced to each of them by finding out what they brought, and honestly, you don’t remember most of their names. It’s David that made the comment about the fish, so you’re sure to memorize his name so you can hate him fully. David’s dating Yoongi’s manager, Marcus, who apparently brought chicken that is very good. There’s Alison, who brought naan, and Rabia who brought chutney to go with it. And Donghyun brought some sort of seven layer dip.

For the most part, none of them talk to you. It quickly becomes clear that these people aren’t friends. Certainly, they aren’t friends with Yoongi, but they aren’t friends at all. They talk to each other, but it’s clear that this is just another mandatory work thing for them, and they don’t want to be here. You’re honestly a little glad that they leave you alone. None of them seem particularly nice. Or interesting.

So you grab food. And you sit together at a table far away from where the rest of the group is lingering.

“One hour, 45 minutes to go,” Yoongi mumbles, and you snort in laughter, almost choking on the naan you’d just taken a bite of.

“Maybe it won’t be so-”

“Mind if I sit?” You’re interrupted by a bright voice, and when you look, Liz is standing beside Yoongi, holding a plate of food.

You look to Yoongi and he makes a face that says he really doesn’t want her to sit with you. But he says nothing, simply gestures to the other side of the table. Which, of course, she takes as an invitation to sit right beside him. He practically squeaks in distress and scoots slightly over so that there’s a bit of space between them.

“I have to be honest,” Liz begins, oblivious. “No one really expected you to bring anyone. We kind of all just assumed you were single, you know?” He hums, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge what she’s saying. Briefly, you consider correcting her–you aren’t dating–but she continues before you can even consider a polite way to address the situation. “How long have you known each other? How’d you meet?”

“Years.” He doesn’t even look at her to answer her, his focus on pushing his food around on his plate. His current victim is the seven layer dip he’s stabbing with a tortilla chip.

“We’re neighbors,” you add, hoping that maybe if you answer her questions, she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

Liz nods enthusiastically. “That’s so cute! You guys are cute.”

“I’m going to grab a drink,” Yoongi announces suddenly, standing up. “Do you want anything?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods and leaves you alone with Liz. “I’m serious,” she laughs. “When we were all told we could bring a plus-one, I don’t think anyone expected Yoongi to bring someone. He’s usually so quiet around everyone at work.”

You’ve lost patience with her quickly. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but every time she opens her mouth to speak, it grates on your nerves. “Sometimes, he only talks when he thinks it’s worth his time.” You shrug and make eye contact with her.

Her smile falters very briefly, but then she recovers and it’s like nothing changed. “He talks to me, though,” she continues, as if you’d said nothing. “Mostly about new album releases and stuff.” You work at a music store, you think. But you let her keep talking. “He knows so much about music. He played the piano for me once.”

You hum and say nothing, craning your neck so you can look around her to see where Yoongi’s gotten to. He’s at the end of the pavilion, distracted by Marcus, his manager.

“He’s really good,” Liz gushes. “Like, really good. He used to want to be a music teacher–did you know that? He told me-”

You tune her out. Of course, you know that he plays the piano. You’ve seen the brown upright that sits in his living room, never dusty because he plays it too much. You often hear the soft melodies that travel through the walls at night when he can’t sleep. He’d even told you about wanting to be a music teacher–a long-dead dream that he’d abandoned in his early 20s. You wish he hadn’t, he had the patience of a saint and he was one of the smartest people you knew. But you also understand how needlessly cruel the world can be sometimes.

Finally, Yoongi returns, balancing a plate and two bottles of beer. He sits one of the bottles in front of you and, with a flourish, places the plate between you. “Someone made hotteok,” he says gleefully, nudging a pancake in your direction. “They aren’t hot, but Marcus said they were really good.”

He picks one up, gives it a satisfied pat. A wide, gummy smile spreads across his lips and his eyes crinkle in delight. He pats the pancake again a few more times, before nudging the plate toward you. It’s got one more hotteok on it, and a scoop of the tiramisu trifle Yoongi’d made.

Liz makes a noise of annoyance, and the look on her face says that she’s not happy she’s being ignored. But she plasters on a smile when Yoongi looks over at her.

“Oh. Liz,” he says softly, one hand still gently patting his hotteok. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

Her face falls. “I was just leaving.”

She leaves her plate behind.

He watches after her, eyes wide as she goes to join the group currently surrounding a bluetooth speaker. It’s blasting some sort of 90s pop song–you assume they’ve got a playlist going on someone’s phone.

“That was weird,” Yoongi says finally. “She’s normally really nice.”

You hum and lie. “Maybe she’s having a bad day.”

And as tactless as you think Liz is, you want to believe that’s true. You’ve heard plenty of stories of her, how she’s the only coworker that Yoongi actually likes, how she’s nice to him, how she actually seems to be interested in what he has to say. You don’t trust her, but you hope for Yoongi’s sake that she’s just off her game today.

Maybe if he clarified that you weren’t dating, it would help.

He doesn’t make any effort to do that, though, not even when Rabia brings around a QR code for you to scan to add songs to the playlist they’ve got going.

“Thought maybe you and your girlfriend would want to add some songs,” she says, offering a small smile. She waits patiently while Yoongi scans the code on her phone, and then she disappears again, back to the group over by the speaker.

“She seems nice,” you say, watching as he types into his phone and picks a couple songs.

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve met her like twice? She works nights.”

After a second, he hands you his phone, open to some music website you’ve never heard of. You carefully consider what you might want to add. The site doesn’t let you see what else is in the playlist, so you aren’t sure what songs Yoongi picked, let alone what the others have queued up. But you pick two of your favorites that you think would be fun and hand him his phone back.

Apparently, the playlist is on shuffle, because a few songs later, you recognize the opening beats of one of the songs you chose. Immediately, Yoongi perks up, his little ears on alert as he listens. It takes all of about three seconds for him to break into a grin.

He’d introduced you to this band back when you first started grocery shopping together. You were driving, he was playing music on his phone. They were his favorite, a small hip-hop group made up of three dog hybrids. It wasn’t common for hybrids to make it in really any industry, so the fact that these guys did and their music was good? You couldn’t deny they had quickly become some of your favorite artists, too.

He sways a little with the music, his eyes closed. He looks content. You smile watching him, rest your chin on his hands. You’re happy you came, you determine.

Two hours fly faster than you thought they would. And when you point out that you’ve hit your promised limit and ask if Yoongi’s ready to go, he immediately nods. So you stand, say your goodbyes. His coworkers make a big deal of you leaving so soon. Liz tries to hug Yoongi before you leave, but he dodges her by grabbing another hotteok–though whether it was a purposeful deflection or just a happy accident, you aren’t sure.

He barely speaks until you’re in the car and halfway back to your apartment building. He shifts around in his seat, digging around in his pocket. He pulls out a rock–his favorite rock, you note–and rolls it around in his hand.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “For coming with me. I uh… I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t dating.”

You frown, and when you slow to a stop at the next redlight, you turn to look at him. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If it made the situation even a little easier, it’s totally fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean, when am I going to see these people again?” The light turns green and you hit the gas. “Let them think whatever they want. You wanna come back in eight months and tell them we’re married? Go for it.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

He nods. “I appreciate it.”

The car falls silent, the only sounds coming from the radio–Yoongi’s phone connected to the aux cord. He continues to toy with the rock, rubbing it between his fingers and tapping it against the armrest on the door. It takes only minutes to pull into the garage under your building, and even less to find a spot.

While you’re waiting for the elevator to return to the garage, he says your name so softly, you almost don’t hear it over the whirring of the cables and machinery.

“Here,” he says, reaching out and grabbing your hand. Carefully, he presses his rock into your palm.

You look at him, confused. “Yoongi, I…” He loves this rock. He’d never said exactly where he found it, but it’s a little round and very smooth, and you’ve seen him pat his pockets down on numerous occasions to make sure he has it with him.

“Take it. Please. I… As a thank you.” He doesn’t look at you, his face flushed a shade of light pink.

You nod and close your fingers around the rock. You’ll have to find somewhere nice to put it. And maybe, someday, you can find him a new one to replace it.

I'd love to know what you thought! I had been considering making this longer, but I thought leaving it open might be a little more fun. if you're interested, I may do a part two later? idk let me know if you're feeling a part two. thank you again to yav and jay for the moodboards. they're both so pretty.

#yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #hybrid min yoongi #hybrid min yoongi x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid bts x reader #bts hybrid au #yoongi hybrid au #yoongi hybrid #yoongi hybrid x reader

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37sommz · 2 months ago

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000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: soul's anthem [6.9k, angst]. ✼. view: masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis: michaela has a decision to make. ✼. notes: back to our regularly scheduled programming following the daniel news. angst bc i'm incapable of writing anything else <333 been on my writing grind recently and i'm starting to get attached to my babygirl mick <3 ✼. warnings: mattia binotto, general language, beginning of a breakup?, zak brown jump scare, free fred from breaking his favorite drivers' hearts </3

✼.⠀OCTOBER 30, 2020 — imola, italy › practice day.

Michaela leaned against the garage wall in her race suit, water bottle in hand with her eyes fixed on the busy paddock of the Imola circuit. The candy-apple red of her Alfa Romeo car gleamed under the Italian sun, starkly contrasting the sea of Ferrari fans dressed in their iconic Rosso Corsa. The air was buzzing with the scent of burnt rubber and racing fuel, the sound of running engines echoing through the grandstands as the second Free Practice session drew to a close. As the buzz grew louder, she found herself lost in thought.

Fred Vasseur, her team principal at Alfa Romeo, approached with a stride that seemed more determined than usual. His eyes met hers, and she knew the conversation they were about to have would be pivotal for her career. "Michaela, I know you're tired, but we need to talk." His French accent was soothing despite the tension in his voice. She nodded, pushing herself off the wall and disposing of the plastic bottle with a tired sigh.

They walked to the quietest corner of the garage, where the smell of oil and the distant chatter of mechanics couldn't intrude. Fred leaned in, his voice low and urgent. "Binotto wants to see you tonight after you've finished your press duties. It's about your future with Ferrari." The words hung in the air like a question she hadn't prepared for. She felt a mix of excitement and dread. This was the moment she had been waiting for, but she could not shake the nagging feeling that she was not truly ready for what the conversation would entail.

The rest of the day was a blur of interviews and autographs. Journalists whispered and focused on her movements as she passed, their eyes filled with curiosity. The tension grew with each step closer to Binotto's makeshift office on the Enzo e Dino Ferrari paddock. Her heart raced as she stepped into the sleek building, surrounded by the history and prestige of the Scuderia. The walls were adorned with trophies and photos of legendary drivers, their eyes seemingly watching her every move. The faces of Fangio, Lauda, Schumacher, and Raikkonen stared back at her as if taunting her with their tales of stories and successes for their adoring Tifosi.

Michaela took a deep breath, the air thick with anticipation as she waited for Mattia Binotto, Ferrari's Team Principal, to appear. The door swung open, revealing a man who looked more like a distant fan than a master of the motorsport world. His smile was warm, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. "Michaela, thank you for coming," He said in his flourished Italian, gesturing to a seat. She took it not before she wiped her sweaty palms against her blue jeans. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint tick of a clock that seemed to echo the beat of her heart.

Binotto sat across from her, leaning back in his chair with a confidence that made her nerves spark with anxiety. "We've noticed your progress this season," He began, his words measured. "Your podium in Tuscany was... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

There was a pause, a beat too long.

"But," He continued, "We're still not convinced you're ready for the pressure of a championship-contending seat." The room felt colder, the walls closing in around her.

Michaela's eyes widened in shock, her throat dry as she swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" She managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Binotto clasped his fingers, a gesture that seemed more suited to a boardroom than a Formula 1 garage. "You've shown potential, yes, but we need a driver who can handle the pressure of fighting for the title week in, week out." His eyes searched hers as if looking for something she was sure he wasn't going to find. "And frankly, we're considering other options."

Michaela felt the wind knocked out of her. Her mind raced with thoughts of the countless hours she had spent on the track, pushing herself beyond limits she never knew existed. All the sacrifices, the early mornings, the late nights in the simulator, the physical pain she'd endured - it all felt useless. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the armrests of the chair. She took a moment to compose herself, the sting of his words lingering like the taste of blood in her mouth.

"What other options?" She asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Who could be your other options?" She pleaded, eyes still wide in disbelief. Her fingers formed air quotations around the word 'options'.

Mattia's smile never wavered, a mark of his seasoned experience in the business of breaking bad news to talented drivers. "It's not for me to say right now, but rest assured, we are exploring all avenues." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But, don't get me wrong, you are a valuable asset to the Ferrari family. We just need to make sure that when we make our decision, it's the right one at the right time."

Michaela felt the weight of his words like a bomb strapped to her chest. Despite her historic podium finish, she was still seen as an 'if' and not a 'when'. She took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This wasn't the conversation she had hoped for, but she knew she had to keep her emotions in check if she wanted to leave this meeting with her reputation intact. "I understand," She said, her voice surprisingly calm, catching herself off guard. "But I'm not going to settle for anything less than what I know I can achieve."

Binotto nodded, his expression indiscernible. "That's the spirit," He said, his smile never reaching his eyes. Michaela could feel her world spin as she tried to keep herself from throwing up her last meal. "But you must understand that Ferrari is more than just a team. It's a legacy. A responsibility. And we don't take our decisions lightly."

Michaela nodded, the uneasiness in her belly swirled and rose to the point of nausea. "I'm aware," She replied, her voice laced with a rueful determination she hadn't felt in a long time. "I've worked my entire life for this moment. And I won't let anyone, not even Ferrari, tell me that I'm not ready."

Binotto leaned in, his eyes searching hers once more. "Your passion is commendable, Michaela. But passion alone does not win championships." His tone was softer now, almost patronizing. "You've proven you can handle a car, but the question still stands, can you handle the weight of the Ferrari suit?"

Michaela felt a flash of anger, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself of the stakes involved in a room with one other witness. "I know what it means to drive for Ferrari," She replied, her voice firm. "And I'm ready to prove it."

Binotto leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanged. "Good," He said. "Because if you wish to be considered for a seat next season, you'll need to prove it not just to me, but to the entire team, from the mechanics to the sponsors."

Michaela nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll do whatever it takes." She said with a conviction that she hoped was as convincing as it sounded.

The silence grew heavier before Fred Vasseur coughed gently. "Michaela, I think it's important to remember that your contract with Alfa Romeo is also ending this year," He reminded her, his voice a stark contrast to Binotto's coolness. "We've had a good season, and I know you're looking for a new challenge."

Michaela nodded, her eyes flicking to Fred, then back to Binotto. "But I thought Ferrari was the next step for me," She said, her voice filled with an unspoken question.

Fred cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Ferrari is a tough nut to crack, but you're not without options," He offered, trying to ease the tension in the room. "We are interested in retaining your talent for next season. You need to weigh your options carefully. If you leave us, there's no guarantee you'll ever get in a Ferrari seat."

Michaela felt the sting of his words pierce at her resolve. Was he hinting that she was being too ambitious? She took a moment to process the information, her eyes darting between the two men. The Ferrari dream was slipping through her fingers, but she knew she would never give up without a fight.

"What's the deal?" She asked, her voice still firm despite the doubt creeping in.

Fred leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Alfa Romeo is willing to offer you a multi-year contract. We believe in you, and we'll support you as you continue to grow as a driver. But if you want to drive for Ferrari, you may need to wait. And waiting could mean sacrificing your career trajectory." His words were a stark reminder of the cutthroat nature of Formula 1 for any driver, much less a driver trying to dispel any doubt about the potential of female drivers.

Michaela felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on her. Her mind raced with scenarios, each more daunting than the last. Could she really wait another season or two, hoping Ferrari would give her a chance? Or should she take the security of a contract with Alfa Romeo and continue to try to prove herself in a car that was intentionally uncompetitive? Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of her phone in her pocket. Guido Marotta, her manager, flashed across her screen like a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil. After receiving a 'go ahead' from Binotto and Vasseur to pick up the call, she answered with a tentative greeting.

"Michaela," He said urgently when she picked up. "I've got a call from Zak Brown with McLaren. They're interested in you for 2021. It's a seat with potential, and they're willing to pay big."

Michaela's heart skipped a beat at the mention of McLaren. The British team was on the rise, with young talent in Lando Norris, the very same Brit she had beaten to the Formula 2 champion two years ago. Regardless of her friendly rivalry with Lando, McLaren was a team that could offer her a real shot at fighting for victories, if not immediately, then certainly in the near future.

"What are they saying?" She managed to ask despite the wave of shock that settled over her. Her voice a curious mix of excitement and hesitation.

Guido's response was quick and to the point, a mark of his personality that made him such an efficient manager. "They're impressed with your performance, especially the podium in Tuscany. They think you're ready to step up to the next level. And they're willing to offer you a multi-year deal that would put you in a car capable of fighting for podiums."

Michaela's eyes widened as she processed the information, her heart racing faster than the Formula 1 cars she drove at top speed. A seat at McLaren would mean leaving the Ferrari family, but it was an opportunity she couldn't ignore. She could feel the eyes of both Binotto and Vasseur on her, each waiting for her to make a mistake, to show her hand. She took a deep breath, her racing heart pounding in her chest. "I need to think about it," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor of excitement.

Bintto nodded, his expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need, but remember, the paddock is a small place, and opportunities like this don't come around often." Guido's words were a warning, a subtle reminder that she was playing a game with very high stakes.

Michaela ended the call, the silence in the room thick with the unspoken tension. She looked up at the two men in front of her, their faces a map of the politics she had so long tried to navigate to no avail. "Thank you for the offer, but I need to consider all my options before making a decision," She said, her voice steady despite the tumultuous storm in her mind.

Fred nodded solemnly. "We understand," He said, his eyes reflecting a hint of disappointment. Binotto remained expressionless, his gaze unwavering as he studied her as if taken off guard.

Michaela stepped out of the office, her legs shaking beneath slightly. The cool evening air of Imola hit her like a slap in the face, jolting her back to the unfair reality. The paddock was alive with activity, teams, and drivers preparing for the final practice session of the weekend tomorrow morning. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, the noise of the surrounding environment fading into the background as she weighed her options. The decision before her was impossible: stay with the Ferrari family and hope for a chance that might never come, or take a leap into the unknown with McLaren, a team on the rise but without the guarantee of any tangible success.

Her phone buzzed again in her back pocket. This time, it was her boyfriend, Olivier. She had hoped he would be there for her, to help navigate the stormy waters of her career. But his texts had been sparse and unenthusiastic. Work had taken him away from the track more often than not, leaving her to face the pressures of Formula 1 alone.

Michaela took a moment to compose herself before reading the message. It was a simple question about her plans for the night. The distance between them had grown over the past few weeks, and his new job as a race analyst kept him busy and detached from her personal little racing world. The lack of support was palpable, and she found herself resenting him for it.

With a heavy heart, she texted back that she had an important call and needed some space to think. Olivier responded with a curt 'Okay', and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of anger. The callousness of his reply only further reminded her of Jenson's words during that night they shared in his hotel in Tuscany.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar engine roar, snapping her out of her brooding. The McLaren MCL35M, piloted by Lando Norris, was being looked at by a group of papaya-clad mechanics. The sight of the orange car brought a bitterness to her tongue, a taste of rivalry from their time in Formula 2. But now, the prospect of racing alongside him in the same team had an allure she hadn't anticipated.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the paddock as she made her way back to her own garage. Her mind was a tornado of thoughts and emotions. The podium finish in Tuscany had brought her career to a new level, but it had also exposed the cracks in her relationship with Olivier. The fight for the top was becoming as much about proving herself to the sport as it was about proving herself to him.

Michaela stepped into the Alfa Romeo garage, the starkness of the white walls contrasting sharply with the Ferrari red that had surrounded her just minutes before. Her team greeted her with nods of respect and understanding; they knew the stakes of her meeting with Binotto and Vasseur. She took a moment to appreciate their kindness before retreating to her personal space to call Travis.

She held her uncle's opinion in the highest regard. As she explained the dilemma presented to her by Binotto, Vasseur, and Brown, she could already feel Travis' incoming response.

"Michaela, I know you're going through a tough time," He said, his Australian twang cutting through the line. "But remember, you're worth more than any contract they throw at you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." His words echoed in her mind as she sat on the cold, metal floor, her back against the wall of her small driver's home.

Michaela nodded to herself, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She knew he was right. Her entire career had been about proving herself, about fighting against the odds. But this was different. This was Ferrari. The pinnacle of motorsport. The dream she had chased since she was a little girl watching her heroes race in the very same series. "I know," She murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "But it feels like no matter what I do, I'm never going to be enough for them."

Travis' voice grew stern. "You're more than enough, Mitch." The use of the childhood alias she would use to enter karting races when she was much younger drew a soft laugh from her. "You've got talent that could outshine anyone on that grid. Don't you dare let them tell you any bullshit otherwise." His crass words were a balm to her bruised ego, a reminder of the fire that had driven her to this point.

Michaela took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. "What should I do?" She asked, her voice shaky.

"You need to trust yourself," Travis said firmly. "You've come too far to let someone else dictate your future. If Ferrari doesn't see what you're capable of, then maybe it's time to show them what they're missing out on."

Michaela's eyes drifted to her reflection in the shiny Alfa Romeo emblem on the wall. She saw the little girl with her first go-kart, the teenager fighting tooth and nail in every race, the woman who had just earned her place on the podium. A sense of determination swelled within her. "You're right," she murmured, wiping a rogue tear from her cheek. "I can't wait around for them to decide my worth."

Her resolve strengthened with every beat of her heart. The decision was clear: she had to take the risk with McLaren. They were offering her a chance to prove herself in a competitive car, and she knew she could step up to the plate. The thrill of the challenge coursed through her veins like adrenaline. The very same adrenaline that filled her with anticipation every time she stepped into her car and onto the track.

With a newfound sense of decisiveness, she called Guido back, her voice clear and direct. "Set up the meeting with McLaren," she said. "I'm ready to explore my options."

Guido's response was swift and business-like. "Good call, Michaela. I'll get it sorted."

Michaela ended the call with a sense of relief as if she had just taken the first step in reclaiming control over her destiny. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet of the garage, the rhythmic buzz of tools, and the murmur of engineers discussing setup changes a comforting backdrop. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic storm of emotions playing out in her mind.

✼.⠀NOVEMBER 01, 2020 — imola, italy › race day.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, with a flurry of meetings and phone calls that left her little time to reflect on her personal life. The final practice session and qualifying passed in a blur, her focus solely on the job at hand: securing the best possible grid position for the upcoming race.

Michaela found solace in the roar of the engine, the vibration of the car beneath her, and the way the tires whispered secrets of grip and speed to her. It was the sweet hum of mechanical perfection that drowned out the rushes of doubt and anxiety. She pushed her Alfa Romeo to the limit, setting a time that was surprisingly close to the Ferrari of Sebastian Vettel.

The qualifying session was intense, with drivers jostling for the top position, but she remained focused. Her mind was a cage, shutting out everything but the track ahead. When she climbed out of the car, her heart was racing, not just from the exertion but from the thrill of the chase. The team congratulated her on outqualifying both her teammate Kimi, and Sebastian, their smiles genuine, but her thoughts were already racing to the next battle: the race itself.

The night before the Grand Prix, she lay in her hotel room, the TV playing the highlights of her podium finish in Tuscany as they discussed the future she wasn't any more sure about than they were. The commentators' voices grew distant as she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of Ferrari's elusive offer and the tantalizing prospect of McLaren. She picked up her phone, the screen lighting up the dark room. Olivier's face popped up on the screen, his expression one of forced cheerfulness. Michaela scoffed to herself as she remembered their one-year anniversary was approaching in less than three months without as much as an acknowledgment from the Frenchman.

Their relationship had been strained at best since her podium finish, his lack of support stinging more than any of the criticisms from the media or the whispers in the paddock. The distance between them was palpable, and the thought of their upcoming trip to Monaco, which was supposed to be romantic, now felt like a chore she couldn't escape.

Michaela's mind was a tumult of emotions as she stared at the screen. The text from Olivier was innocent, asking about her day and her preparations for the race. But it was his detachment that was eating away at her. Her historic podium finish in Tuscany should have been a celebration, a moment they shared together. Instead, he had been glued to his phone as he picked her up from the airport, congratulating her with a peck on the cheek before retreating to answer his emails.

Her thoughts drifted to Jenson, his words of support and understanding after the race resonated in her ears. The night they had shared was a brief escape from the pressure, a spark of comfort that had quickly turned into a fire of guilt and confusion. But as she sat in the quiet hotel room, she couldn't deny that his words had planted a seed of doubt in her heart. Was Olivier really the one for her? Or was she just clinging to the familiarity of their relationship out of fear of being alone in this high-stakes world?

Michaela threw her phone onto the bed, frustration building within her. She needed to focus on the race tomorrow, not the tangled mess of her love life. The pressure was immense, but she had faced worse. The race was her sanctuary, the one place where she could truly be herself, free from the scrutiny and expectations of others.

The next day, the grandstands were a sea of Ferrari red, the air thick with anticipation. As she stood out on the track in her Alfa Romeo racing suit, the Italian national anthem playing out, she felt a pang of regret for the dream that seemed to be slipping away. But she pushed it aside, reminding herself of her uncle's words. This race was about more than just points or positions; it was about making a statement.

The lights went out, and the engines roared to life. She dropped the clutch and the car leaped forward, her eyes fixed on the first corner. The opening laps were a dance of strategy and skill, pushing for position without making contact. As the race unfolded, she felt the car come alive beneath her, responding to her every input with a ferocity that matched her own.

Michaela's mind was singularly focused on the task at hand, the tire strategies, the car's setup, and the ever-changing track conditions. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles tightened with the intensity of her focus. She knew every inch of this circuit like the back of her hand, every bump, every nuance that could be taken advantage of to shave off a tenth of a second.

The race was a battleground of pace, a silent war of speed and precision. The scream of engines, the smell of burning rubber, the taste of adrenaline—it was all familiar to her now, a chorus of sensations that played out in her mind like a well-rehearsed choir. She pushed her Alfa Romeo to the limits, every turn a declaration of her intentions to the Ferrari team watching from the pits.

As the race approached its final stages, the tension grew. The lead drivers were locked in a fierce battle, but it was the midfield fight that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. The McLaren of Lando Norris in 10th and the AlphaTauri of Daniil Kvyat in 8th were dueling, with her car sandwiched in between. The podium was still a distant hope, but a solid points finish was within her grasp.

Her heart raced as she saw the gap to Kvyat shrinking, her eyes flickering between the track ahead and the mirrors. The Russian was known for his aggressive driving, and she knew she had to be ready for anything. The moment came on the 58th lap, as Kvyat made a daring move around the outside of a tight corner. She braced herself, her muscles tense as she waited for the inevitable contact that never came. He'd gone too wide, opening the door for her to act quickly.

Michaela didn't hesitate, seizing the opportunity with the finesse of a seasoned veteran. She shot down the inside, the roar of the Alfa Romeo's engine echoing through the narrow corridor of the track. The move was clean and decisive, and it earned her a well-deserved spot in 8th place. The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps, the excitement palpable even through the thick barriers. Though she was much too far to challenge the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc in 7th, Michaela knew with that move she had made her statement.

The final laps were a blur of concentration, her eyes never straying from the road ahead. She crossed the line, her heart pounding in her chest as the cheers grew louder. The podium may have eluded her this time, but she had shown Ferrari that she was no mere junior driver to be overlooked.

The podium ceremony went ahead without her, the Mercedes duo of Valtteri and Lewis accompanied by the Red Bull of Max, took to spraying champagne and soaking in the applause. Meanwhile, in the pits, the Alfa Romeo mechanics were already debriefing, their heads bowed over data screens, their expressions a mix of pride and determination. The team knew she had given it everything she had.

Michaela climbed out of her car, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal the exhaustion that had been waiting in the metaphorical wings. She took off her helmet, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead and curling up from the heat. The TV cameras and journalists swarmed around her, eager to capture her reaction to the race. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and faced the barrage of questions on her trek back to the garage with the poise of a woman who had, in fact, spent her life in the spotlight.

"How does it feel to be back in the points?" One journalist shouted over the others.

Michaela paused, her smile wavering slightly. "It feels amazing," She said, her voice carrying over the business of the paddock. "But I'm not just here to collect points. I'm here to win." The words were a declaration of war, a challenge thrown down to Ferrari and everyone else who had ever doubted her. As she fielded more questions, her eyes caught sight of Olivier who stood tall amongst the unfamiliar faces.

Their gazes met briefly, his expression one of surprise, perhaps even a hint of admiration. But it was the way his eyes searched hers that had her stomach flipping. He had watched the race with the same intensity as everyone else, but she knew he had felt her struggle, her determination, her triumph. She knew he understood the weight of her words.

Michaela pushed through the media scramble, her heart racing faster than the car she had just stepped out of. She needed to talk to him, to explain everything, but she wasn't sure she had the words to bridge the growing gap between them. The garage was alive with noise and activity, but she found him amidst the chaos, his eyes still glued to the screens that replayed her daring move.

Olivier's face was a mask of professionalism, but she saw the flicker of pride in his gaze. He knew the significance of her performance today, not just for her but for the future of their relationship. She approached him, the noise of the paddock fading away as they stood face to face. "I didn't know you were coming," She said, trying to keep her voice steady. Instead of answering her right away, he drew her sweaty body into his.

The embrace was tight and warm, a welcome contrast to the coolness that had settled between them. "I had to see you," He murmured into her ear, his breath tickling the baby hairs on her neck. "You were incredible out there."

Michaela leaned into his arms, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "Thank you," She whispered, her voice cracking. "I needed to hear that."

Olivier pulled back, his expression honest. His Sky Sports windbreaker adorned his broad shoulders. "I know things have been tough for us, but you can't doubt yourself. You're one of the best drivers out there."

Michaela nodded, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. "But it's not just about being the best," she said. "It's about being in the right car, with the right team, and having the right support."

Olivier's grip on her tightened. "And you have that," he said firmly. "You've got me, you've got Travis, your family, and you've got a whole team behind you. That's what matters."

Michaela searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe she did have everything she needed. But the doubt remained, a stubborn shadow in the corner of her mind. "I don't know if that's enough," she confessed. "The McLaren offer is real, Olivier. And I can't ignore it."

He sighed, his grip loosening slightly. "I know," he said, his voice shallow with defeat. Michaela was aware he was biased, like most former drivers, to the allure of the Ferrari name. "But you have to do what's best for your career."

"And what about us?" She asked the question hanging in the air like the scent of burnt rubber from the track. Olivier looked away, his eyes darting around the garage before returning to hers.

"We'll figure it out," He said, but his voice lacked conviction. The words stung, but she knew she couldn't let her personal life sway her career choice. The Ferrari contract remained out of reach, and the McLaren offer grew more inviting with each passing moment.

Michaela turned away from Olivier, her mind racing. She knew she had to sit down with Guido and discuss the future. The decision was hers, and she couldn't let anyone else make it for her.

"Michaela, congratulations on a fantastic race," Guido's voice boomed over the background noise of the paddock as he approached her. His eyes were sharp, assessing the tension between her and Olivier. A perceptive man, he was more than aware of the tension between Michaela and her distant boyfriend. "Your performance today was exceptional."

Michaela nodded, her eyes never leaving Olivier's. "Thank you, Guido." Her voice was laced with a mix of exhaustion and determination. "Can we talk about the McLaren offer now?"

Guido looked from her to Olivier and back, sensing the unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, his expression shifting to one of professionalism. "Of course," he said, gesturing towards a quieter corner of the garage. "Let's get you out of the suit first."

Michaela nodded the weight of her decision momentarily forgotten as she allowed herself to be led away. She knew that she had to prioritize her career above all else, but the thought of leaving Ferrari, the team she had been groomed for, was like running away from the safety of the known.

Once in the relative quiet of the team's hospitality area, she peeled off her racing suit, revealing the sports bra and fireproofs beneath. The smell of the track clung to her, a mix of burning rubber, fuel, and victory. She took a deep breath and accepted the sports drink Guido offered to her while trying to steady her racing heart. Guido waited patiently, his eyes never leaving hers.

"McLaren is a serious offer," he began, his voice low and measured. "They're not just looking for a driver; they're looking for a star. You've got the potential to be that star, and they know it."

Michaela took a sip of the sports drink, the cool liquid soothing her dry throat. "But Ferrari is my dream," She said softly. "I've worked my entire life for this."

Guido's expression grew serious. "I know it's tough," He said. "But Ferrari's indecision is not a reflection of your talent. You've earned your place in this sport, and you can't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Michaela nodded, the gravity of his words resonating within her. "What happens next?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Guido leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "We play hardball," He decided. "We tell Ferrari that you're exploring all options, and we let McLaren know that you're serious about the offer. It's time to make them realize that you're not just waiting around for a seat; you're actively pursuing your future."

Michaela nodded a newfound resolve setting in her features. "Alright," She responded, "Let's do it."

Guido set to work immediately, his fingers flying across his phone as he called in favors and set up meetings. Meanwhile, Olivier hovered in the background, his usual confidence replaced by a palpable uncertainty. The tension between them was as thick as the smoke that sometimes hung over the track.

Michaela took a moment to breathe, her thoughts racing as fast as the cars she'd just competed against. The idea of leaving Ferrari, the team she had grown up dreaming of, was heart-wrenching. But the opportunity to race for McLaren, a team on the rise with a proven track record of nurturing talent, was too good to pass up without serious consideration.

Her conversation with Guido was cut short by a sudden commotion in the garage. The team manager looked up from his phone, a flicker of concern crossing his features before they smoothed out into a mask of neutrality. "I'll handle this," he said, leaving her with a nod.

Michaela took a moment to collect herself, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of the Alfa Romeo livery. The thought of leaving Ferrari felt like a betrayal of her childhood dreams, but she knew that sometimes dreams had to evolve. She turned to find Olivier hovering awkwardly by the door. His eyes met hers, a silent question hanging in the air.

"We're going to play the field," she said, her voice firm. "Guido's going to talk to Ferrari and McLaren. We'll see who values me the most."

Olivier nodded, his eyes lingering on her. "But you know what you want, right?"

Michaela's gaze was unwavering. "I want to win," she replied. "And if Ferrari doesn't see that in me, then maybe it's time to move on."

Olivier nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of her words. He knew the Ferrari dream was a powerful one, but he also knew that she deserved to be in a car that could truly showcase her talents. The silence stretched between them, the echo of the race engines still resonating in the garage.

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been more supportive," he finally said, his voice cracking slightly. "I know you're going through a lot right now, and I haven't been the best."

Michaela felt a pang of guilt for the fight earlier. She knew that Olivier was caught in the crossfire of her ambition and her need for validation. "It's okay," She replied, her own voice filled with a tired emotion. "It's just been a tough season."

Olivier stepped closer, his hand brushing hers briefly. "I'm here for you," he assured her. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Michaela felt a wave of warmth at his words, but it was tempered by the doubt that still lingered. "Thank you," She said, her voice small. "But I can't promise that my decision will be easy for either of us."

Olivier nodded, the unspoken understanding hanging heavily in the air. They both knew that their relationship was on the line, that the glamour of F1 had a way of making the personal feel small and insignificant.

Michaela watched as Guido walked back towards her, his expression unreadable. The tension in the garage was palpable, and each team member was aware of the gravity of the situation. "Ferrari wants you to stay," he said, his voice low. "But they're not willing to make any promises for next season."

Her heart sank. "And McLaren?"

Guido's eyes held a flicker of excitement. "They're eager. They're willing to give you a multi-year contract, and they're confident that with the right support, you can lead them to a victory."

The prospect of being a team leader, of being valued and believed in, was honorable. But she couldn't ignore the pull of Ferrari, the team she had practically dedicated her life to. "What about my relationship with Ferrari?" She asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Guido's expression was a mix of empathy and business insight. "Ferrari is a legendary team," he acknowledged. "But they're also a business. Sometimes, you have to make decisions that are best for your career, even if it means leaving your dreams behind."

Michaela nodded the weight of his words sinking in. She knew that he was right, that she couldn't put her entire future in the hands of a team that wasn't ready to commit to her. But the thought of leaving the Ferrari family was like a knife to her heart.

Guido's phone buzzed, interrupting the tense silence. He checked the screen and his eyes lit up. "It's Zak Brown," He said, holding up the device. "He's ready to discuss the terms."

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart racing. This was it, the moment she had been working towards her entire career. The decision was hers to make, and it was a heavy burden to bear. She nodded at Guido, giving him the go-ahead.

Olivier stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the conflict in them, the love and the fear of losing her to the sport that had consumed her life. He knew the gravity of the situation, that her career was at a pivotal point, and that she couldn't afford to wait for Ferrari's indecision.

Michaela's mind raced as she took the phone from Guido. Her hand was slightly trembling as she answered the call. "Zak," She greeted, trying to keep her voice even. "Thank you for the offer."

Zak Brown's voice was enthusiastic on the other end. "Michaela, we've been watching you all season, and we're impressed. We believe you're the missing piece to our championship puzzle. How do you feel about joining us at McLaren?"

Michaela paused, her heart racing as the words sank in. The offer was everything she had ever wanted: a competitive car, a team that believed in her, and the chance to prove herself on the world stage. But it also meant leaving the familiarity of Alfa Romeo and the tantalizing closeness of Ferrari.

Olivier stepped aside, giving her space, but his eyes remained on her, a silent plea for her to choose what made her happy. He knew that her heart was torn between the safety net of Ferrari and the thrilling unknown of McLaren.

Michaela took a deep breath and spoke into the phone, her voice clear and determined. "Zak, I would be more than honored to join the team."

The call didn't last long after that, with Guido taking over to discuss the finer points of the contract. Meanwhile, Olivier remained a silent presence, his eyes never leaving hers. As she hung up, she could see the mix of emotions playing across his face: pride, fear, and a hint of sadness. As Guido discussed options for their next meeting, Michaela stepped closer to Olivier. She reached up to hold his face in her hands, their eyes exchanging words they weren't quite comfortable enough to say out loud in the middle of the garage.

"Look," She began, her voice tender. "I need to do this. For me."

Olivier nodded, his eyes searching hers for any trace of doubt. "I know," He said, his voice gruff with emotion. "But I'm afraid of losing you to this sport." His lips pressed into an uncertain line as they stood in silence for another beat more.

Michaela leaned in and kissed him gently, the smell of the track still on her skin. "You won't," She promised, hoping it was true. "I'll make it work."

Olivier's arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. "I believe in you," He murmured against her hair. "But I can't help but worry."

Michaela leaned into him, absorbing his warmth. "I know," She whispered. "But we'll find a way."

Guido cleared his throat, bringing them back to reality. "Michaela, we need to finalize the contract with McLaren," He reminded her, his voice firm but not unkind.

Michaela nodded, taking a step back from Olivier. "I know," she said, her voice steady. "Let's get it done."

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xiaq · 1 year ago

Text

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt 4

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Steve arrives at 6:28, his flashy BMW slowly creeping down the street until he sees them in the open garage.

They aren’t finished—they need to practice at least three more songs, and Eddie can’t decide if he should call it and piss off the guys or leave Harrington to wait and piss him off. Except instead of idling in the driveway, Steve turns off his car, gets out, and ducks into the garage, nodding toward the couch against the wall.

Eddie nods back.

Steve settles in to watch like that was the plan all along.

Steve Harrington.

Couch.

Watching.

Eddie meets Gareth’s wide eyes, then Jeff’s, and, uncertain what else to do, finishes the guitar solo he’d more or less fucked up with Steve’s arrival, leans forward, and starts the final verse of the song.

He probably should have called it anyway because trying to remember lyrics—even lyrics Eddie wrote himself, is all but impossible when Steve Fucking Harrington in his letterman jacket and belted jeans and too-white shoes is watching them, weirdly earnest, tapping a toe along to the beat.

And Eddie is clearly not the only one having performance issues because Jeff is at least a half second off on the drums and Gareth just…stops playing the base at intervals, probably when he accidentally makes eye-contact with the jock in the corner.

By mutual agreement, determined from progressively more frantic glances, they end practice after the second song and Eddie all but drags Steve back to his car when he tries to make small talk with them, what the hell. He throws himself into the passenger seat and scrubs both hands through his hair and tries to breathe normally.

Steve’s car is bizarrely clean. It smells like leather cleaner and the floorboards are spotless. Aside from a duffel bag in the back seat and a cassette tape in the cup holder, he’d think it was fresh from a dealership lot.

Eddie reaches for the tape—how can he not—and is a little shocked to see its Dio. Apparently the king wasn’t lying.

Steve slides into the driver’s side and cranks the car, bracing a casual hand on Eddie’s headrest, thumb brushing the back of his skull, as he reverses down the driveway.

Eddie doesn’t move. Or speak. Or breathe, probably, until Steve removes his hand again.

And then he keeps not speaking because he has no idea what to say.

Steve doesn’t seem to find the silence awkward, just turns up the stereo, playing Metallica of all things, Jesus, and hums along. Eddie might not survive this.

As they’re driving down the main strip, however, Steve suddenly swears.

“Oh, those fucking—sorry.” He veers off the road to park in front of the arcade, slamming the door when he gets out to stalk over the curb and onto the sidewalk where several kids are talking. They all clearly recognize him.

Steve has his hands on his hips like some sort of disproving soccer mom and Eddie can’t parse exactly what he’s saying from inside the BMW, but he can tell Steve is angry.

A curly-haired kid gestures irately toward his chest, the arcade, and then the general direction of the road. The group behind him all join in a moment later, with their own waving arms and placating tones and Steve’s posture goes slack and weary as he rubs the heel of one hand against his forehead.

His voice quiets so Eddie can’t hear him hardly at all.

And then, they’re all looking toward the car.

Eddie freezes.

The curly-haired kid meets his eyes through the window and starts to move forward but Steve catches the back of his jacket and reels him in, muttering something low and urgent against the kid’s protests.

At first the kid keeps arguing, but then––

Then they’re hugging.

It’s not quite the hug that Eddie had accidentally seen in the hallway between Steve and Robin but it’s…fierce. Desperate. Kids shouldn’t be hugging people like that. Especially not on an otherwise ordinary day when the sun is setting and the muted sounds of laughter and pinball bells are spilling onto the sidewalk.

When they separate, Eddie would swear the kid says his name but Eddie would also swear he’s never seen the kid before in his life.

When Steve returns to the car a minute later, his eyes are bright and his mouth is a hard line. He clears his throat as he puts the car back in gear.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who are they?” Eddie asks carefully.

Steve seems a little stymied by the question. “...some kids I babysit,” he answers eventually.

“You babysit? King Steve, reduced to chasing around munchkins. Is it, like, punishment for something?”

“No,” the hard line of his mouth softens. “Self-inflicted.”

He rests his elbow on the open window and his head in his hand. The wind tosses his hair in his eyes. “Not that I mind, really. I mean. They’re little shits, but they’re good kids. And they’ve been through a lot.”

Eddie’s not going to touch that.

“They sneak out or something?” Eddie asks. “That why you went all disapproving mom on them?”

“I didn’t––“ Steve sighs. “Yeah. Sort of.”

“There are worse things they could be doing than sneaking out to the arcade.” Eddie points out. He would know.

“I’m aware, thank you,” Steve says, tone all bitchy, and Eddie can’t help but grin at him.

He’s still grinning when they park at the diner.

Steve brings the duffle bag inside.

Eddie doesn’t comment on it.

“So,” Steve says, after they’ve ordered and are awkwardly facing each other in a sticky booth. “How’s band stuff? You guys sounded good.”

Eddie pushes his thumb nail under the raised edge of the table’s fake wood veneer. He’s still half-waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Hagan and the other jock lackeys to push their way inside and…Eddie doesn’t even know, laugh at him? Beat the shit out of him? This feels like a prank but it also really doesn’t and he’s so confused. He doesn’t know how to act, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to actually repay Steve’s kindness with the vulnerability of trust. It feels naive to think that the King of Hawkins High would be here, with him, simply because he wants to.

“…Good.” Eddie tips his head, shoves harder at the peeling laminate. “I’m still kinda shocked King Steve likes metal music. But I guess there’s no denying it unless you specifically memorized the B side of Metallica’s latest just to fool me.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

Eddie stills.

“What?”

“King Steve. I’m not. Or I don’t—I don’t want to be, if it means what it feels like when you say it.”

His eyes are dark and earnest and serious in a way that feels ill-suited for the bright diner lights.

“Oh-kay,” Eddie says slowly. Two syllables. “Steve, then.”

“Thank you.”

Polite motherfucker.

“What’s your favorite song?” Steve asks. His tone, his facial expression, is weirdly intense for such a nondescript question.

Eddie purses his lips. “Right now? Or like, of all time?”

“No. Well, sure, I’d like to know those too. But I mean, if you had to pick a song that would bring you back to yourself, that would—that makes you feel most connected to yourself. What would it be?”

Eddie…doesn’t know. It’s not a question he’s ever had to ask himself before and he could lie, he could just pick something, but he wants to answer the question with the same level of gravitas that Steve asked it.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “That’s a heavy ask.”

“It is.”

“What’s yours?”

Steve’s fingers, folding the paper from his straw into smaller and smaller rectangles, go still.

“Oh. Uh. Probably Holy Diver.”

“Probably?”

“No. Definitely,” he says quietly.

“Why that song?”

Steve meets his eyes. His mouth parts with an inhale.

A sudden beeping interrupts whatever he was going to say and Steve glances down at his digital watch, looking relieved.

It’s 6:59. The face is blinking with an alarm.

“Sorry,” he says, “Sorry I need to––I’ll be right back.”

And then he shoulders his duffle bag and slides out of the booth and into the hallway to the bathroom.

What. The. Fuck.

Obviously, Eddie follows him.

He nudges open the door, just a crack, with the toe of his boot. He can’t see anything except for the metal of a stall door, but he can hear a zipper—too long to be pants. The soft clatter of plastic on plastic. A metallic slide. A beep. And then, the static of a walkie talkie.

“Roll call,” Steve says quietly. “Over.”

“This is Will,” a kid’s voice answers promptly, only slightly distorted from the radio’s speaker. “Just got home. I’m checking in for me, my mom, Jonathan, and Nance. There’s been some slight activity at the shed gate but we’re all good. Over.”

What the hell is a ‘shed gate,’ Eddie wonders.

“This is Dustin.” A second kid’s voice follows. “Checking in for me and Mike. We’re all good. Over.”

“This is Lucas,” a third says, “checking in for me and Erica. We’re all good. Over.”

“This is Robin,” says a fourth voice and Eddie’s pretty sure that voice belongs to Robin Buckley. “I’m all good. Over.”

“Hopper,” a fifth voice says. And that’s—is that fucking chief Hopper? “And El,” A girl’s voice adds. “And El,” Hopper corrects. “We had an issue with the lake gate earlier today but El took care of it. Spoke with Murray and we’re still on target for a showdown in 2 weeks. Over.”

Lake gate?

“Steve, are you with Eddie right now? Over.” A girl asks—and Eddie is so lost. How did he get here, listening to a kid he doesn’t know say his name through a walkie-talkie to Steve Harrington hiding in a bathroom.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “And I need to get back to him. Talk to you guys in the morning.”

“How come you get to hang out with him and we don’t?” One of the boys whines, before adding on a belated, “over.”

“If you can come up with an excuse to hang out with him that doesn’t sound batshit crazy, I’m all ears. But until then only me and Robin are allowed to interact with him, okay? At least we go to the same school. I’m trying not to freak him out.”

“Yeah, and you’re doing such a great job of that so far,” snarks someone else. “Over.”

“Ok,” Steve grates out. “I’m trying not to freak him out any more than I already have.”

“Steve,” one of the kids says, “You keep forgetting to end with ‘over.’”

“Swear to fucking god,” Steve mutters. “Okay, children,” he says louder, “Stay out of trouble, do your homework, and go the fuck to sleep on time, over.”

Beep.

Metal on metal.

A zipper.

Eddie scurries back to the booth.

“So,” he says brightly when Steve slides back across from him. “Your character?”

Pt. 5

[let me know if you want to get on the tag list. This sucker is going to be at least 10 parts]

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #time travel fix it

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

A lift and two screws (one shot)

Words: 4.5k | Pairing: Corey Cunningham x f!Reader Summary: You go to Prevo Auto to get your car fixed after hours, and the handsome mechanic rails you twice. Notes: Reader has breasts and a vagina and can be lifted by Corey. Um, please excuse the lack of mechanic knowledge.

WARNINGS: I8+ P in V, mildly dubcon, choking, finger sucking. I'll be honest, rereading this >1 yr later, the size kink, hand kink, and voice kink all go pretty hard lmao be nice this was like my third week writing.

Your car’s persistent rattle has gotten to the point that you’re finally bringing it into Prevo on your way home from work. You turn into the property and dust kicks up under your tires as you make your way to the mechanic shop. The sun is just starting to set.

One garage door is open and another is closed. You pull up to the open door and park outside. You get out of your car and don’t see anyone in the garage. In the office, there are shadows moving. You look at the glass door trying to find their hours but it’s blank.

Out of view, you hear someone working on a truck in the garage. You call, “Hello?” And hear something clatter. “Just a sec!” a deep, gruff voice answers.

The glass door to the office opens and the blinds rattle. Ronald steps out holding a clipboard. He’s wearing a pen behind his ear. “You dropping off?”

“Actually, I’d like to wait if possible.”

“Sorry kid, we’re about to close. You’re welcome to drop it off though.”

You should have known it was too late. “It’s okay, it’s just a rattle, it’s not urgent. I’ll try to get here earlier tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” Ronald says. Before he heads back in the office, he says “Corey! Time to close up.”

Corey Cunningham emerges from behind the truck. He’s wiping oil off his forehead. He was always sturdy, but damn, he’s looking good. Whenever you’ve seen him in the past, he was dressed in layers, so you couldn’t really see his body. And it was almost like he was cowering. You can’t blame him - Haddonfield has treated him horribly. Something’s changed now. It’s not just the uniform. He carries himself differently, and for the first time you’re noticing he’s built like a football player. He never struck you as athletic before.

He takes a pair of goggles off and fluffs his curls with a huge, dirty hand. As his hand flexes, a vein bulges between his wrist and one of his thick knuckles. Now, those are the hands of a man, you think. “Hey,” he says. His voice is deep and husky. “What’s up?” He crosses his large arms and shifts his weight to one leg. You can’t take your eyes off his body. His uniform hugs his hefty frame.

“Hey, it’s just a rattle. I’ll bring it back tomorrow, no worries,” you say.

You start to get back in your car, then Corey says, “Hey, uh,” looking over his shoulder to make sure the door closes behind Ronald. He lowers his voice. “Come back in an hour. I got you.” His low, gravely voice just melts you, and you savor the closeness created by his near-whisper.

“Really? I don’t think it’s urgent.”

“Nah, I’ll be here. Better just to get it done,” he says. “If you want, of course.” He takes his eye glasses and a pinky ring out of his chest pocket and puts them on.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, sounds good.”

You go home and take off your work clothes. You put on jeans, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie. When you get back, it’s dark. Corey lets you into the gate. His uniform is unzipped to the waist, revealing a white tshirt under the blue fabric. You park outside the closed garage and roll down your window.

His ass fills the seat of his jumpsuit as he crouches down to grab the handle of the garage. He is built. At least a dozen muscles in his back flex as he lifts the door. The size of his hand makes the handle look small. His other hand assists from the bottom of the door as it goes up. You can’t take your eyes off his hands. “I’ve just gotta move this truck to free up the lift. It’ll take a minute..”

“Okay,” you say. You get out of your car and lean against it. “Mind if I watch?” The garage is dimly lit, but you can see enough.

“Uh, sure,” he says, as he grabs a huge tool box by a handle that doesn’t fit all his fingers. He sets the tool box down and grabs a tire off the ground. His big thighs and arms flex as he carries it to the truck. His glutes press against his jumpsuit with each step. He gets back to the truck and squats down with the tire, his thighs and hamstrings straining the fabric. You try not to drool.

He catches you staring. He pulls his arms out of his jumpsuit and lets it hang at the waist. His arms are tan and look even bigger with the sleeves of his tshirt hugging his biceps. You’re getting wet. His torso is like a tree trunk, and his back and side muscles move as he uses a wrench to put the tire on. Even the wrench looks small in his sculpted hand. His knuckles are so distinct, they keep catching your eye. You know he must be good with those hands.

When he stands back up, he ties the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist. Then he gets in the truck and moves it outside the garage, parking it in the lot. He comes jogging back and a flood light hits him, his hair and hard pecs bouncing slightly. You can’t remember being turned on by a guy’s pecs before, but they’re so hard. His whole torso is like a sturdy rack of muscle. “Alright, let’s bring it in,” he says, as he walks into the garage. Everything sounds sexy in his voice.

He directs you as you park your car, then jogs back to the garage door. He pulls the door down before you’re even out of your car. Your stomach starts to flutter. You’re essentially captive in here now, and no one knows you’re here. Not that he would do anything, but you wonder if you should have at least told your roommate where you were going.

You open your car door and he catches it with one massive hand. He stands there with his imposing figure between the door and the frame of your car, and squats down so your faces are just a foot or so apart. “So, I hear the rattle.” His voice is low and thick. “Is that all?” He asks. There are a few faint, purple bruises on his broad neck, you wonder what from

“Yeah, that’s all,” you confirm. With his arm holding the door, you can smell his masculine musk and your nipples pucker. His arm. . . He looks like he could carry you with one arm, honestly.

He's kind of blocking you from getting out of your car. You wonder if you’re supposed to stay inside it. You also start to wonder if this is really a bad situation. Your body definitely wants to be here, but your survival instincts are making some calculations. He’s only a couple of inches taller than you, but he’s so solid and hefty you wouldn’t stand a chance in a struggle. Your best bet would be to run. But run from what?

He moves only slightly - enough to signal that you can get out of the car now, but not enough to give you enough space to do so. The meaty thigh of his jumpsuit grazes your jeans as you maneuver your way out. The contact sends a shockwave through your body. “Sorry,” you say.” He looks you in the eye. You scold yourself for how turned on you are in this super sketch situation.

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes darken. He lets the air thicken with tension before getting more casual again. “Alright, let me just hit the lift and grab two screws.“

You hover near the front of your car while he grabs what he needs. He takes off his glasses and puts them on a workbench. He hits a button on the wall and your car is lifted up slightly off the ground. He rides an under-car roller like a skateboard on his way back.

He expertly stops the roller right in front of you and eases it between you and your car. “You still wanna watch?” He asks in a sultry but masculine way. He holds eye contact with you then glances down at the under-car roller.

You can’t find words, but you nod and start to move so you can give him space to work.

“Don’t move.” He stops you,, giving your palm a quick squeeze with the large, calloused pads of his fingers. Butterflies swarm from your core to your chest. Every light touch, every word he says stirs more warmth and need in your core. He kicks the inside of one of your sneakers. “Just a little.” Is he telling you to spread your legs? You do it.

His thick fingers lightly brush against both your hips as he lowers himself onto the under-car roller. It’s as if he’s bracing himself, but he’s barely touching you. His hands on your sides make you feel tiny. He leaves his hands lightly touching your calves as he sits there for a moment. Driven crazy by the light touch, your body wants something more. He eases his ass onto the roller and extends his legs so they’re between yours. You’re standing upright aside from your legs being spread. They’re not bent, you’re not crouching. You’re looking down at him. Your heart is a mile a minute.

His curly head is right at your crotch, inches away. The air is electric with potential energy. His back is against the grill of your car, and his legs are extended under the A-frame made by yours. He looks at your pants. His eyes move back and forth between your zipper and button. “K. I’ll be right back,” he says softly to your jeans without looking up. It’s like he’s talking to your cunt. His irises are so dark they’re practically black.

His thick paws go from your calves to your ankles. He scoots forward a little as he lowers his back to the roller. You don’t move. His curly hair grazes your crotch. He’s briefly staring up at your crotch before he grabs under the car with both hands and pulls himself under. His feet are barely visible. He’s under there for less than a minute before he’s done. “That should do it,” he says from under your car. Your legs are still spread.

His feet begin to slide out from under the car, then his shins and sculpted knees. His boots reach your sneakers. He turns his feet outward and hooks his boots on your ankles to pull himself back out, his knees bending as his torso emerges from under the car. His legs are butterflied and his meaty thighs frame his crotch. This position stretches his uniform and you can just barely see a bulbous area where his legs meet his ass.

He brings his huge hands to his knees and uses them to sit up. His thick fingers spread beyond each of his knees even though his knees are large, too. He swivels around then leans his back against the grill of your car and puts his hands back on his knees and looks up at you.

“That was quick,” you say. “Can I move now?”

“Do you want to?” He asks without missing a beat. You bring your feet back to a normal position. He scoots himself closer to you, then runs his large, rough hands up your jeans as he stands up. He doesn’t step back. He uses one foot to discard the under-car roller without taking his eyes off you. It reaches the far wall with a small crash. His black irises dart back and forth between your eyes. He has a hulking presence.

He hooks his meaty fingers into your front pockets and slowly starts to step backwards towards the drivers side of your car, bringing you with him. When he gets to your car door, he pulls the handle and it clicks the door ever so slightly open. He pivots around you so you’re between him and the door, but he’s practically right up against you. “Do you wanna go?” he asks. “I’ll go hit the lift.”

Your whole body is humming with desire. Your breath is shallow. Your face is hot. He unties the sleeves from around his waist and lets them hang. There is a clear bulge in his jumpsuit. He backs up a little and puts a hand on your car and leans there, instead of into you, allowing you space if you want to get in your car.

You can’t speak, but you bite your lip and shake your head no.

"Good,” he says. "I don't want you to go." One large hand effortlessly pushes the door flush again with a click. His hands are smeared in oil. It’s probably all over your jeans, but you don’t care. You lean your back against your car. He moves closer, closing the gap between you. His large hands come to your waist. He presses himself against you, pelvis first. His solid girth is apparent through your soft-washed jeans. The rest of his thick torso presses against you, and your faces are inches apart.

His black eyes gaze into yours hungrily. His full lips form half a smile, then it fades. His arousal grinds into you Your lips part and you gasp. His lips lay into yours hard, and he’s inhaling through his nose as he presses his mouth into yours hungrily, like he needs your lips locked with his in order to breathe. He parts your lips with his tongue for a taste. He kisses you aggressively, like he’s taking something from you. He pulls back and his eyes have darkened even more.

His hard member grinds into you slowly, rhythmically. Your clit is pulsing and your cunt is aching to be filled. His massive hand slips between you and the car and grabs your ass. The hand easily spans an entire cheek. You take his other hand in yours and marvel at the size of his fingers. You run your small thumb over a scab in the middle of his palm. You hold his heavy fingers in your hand, looking over them one by one, and he brings the hand to your face. His pinky ring is cold against your cheek.

His thumb gently parts your mouth and it's larger than both your lips together. You open your jaw to accept its girth and greet it with your tongue. You close your lips and suck his thumb lightly, then harder. All the while, he grinds his hardness into you and you roll your hips back. He feels even bigger and harder now. You clean his massive digits with your mouth, one by one.

Even his pinky feels large in your mouth. You taste the metal of his ring and gently close your teeth against his skin. He lets you take off the ring and you use your mouth to deposit it on your thumb. He watches you curiously with those dark eyes. The pinky ring is too loose even on your thumb. You use your hands to put it back on him, and he moves his hand to your jeans.

His hand engulfs your entire front as he palms you outside your jeans. He can't fit his whole hand between your legs without you spreading them. He uses his central three fingers to rub you just how you like. You both breathe heavily. His lips come to your neck and suck. You feel the pain of a hickey forming and reflexively pull away. He uses his massive hand to pull your neck back to his mouth, then unzip your hoodie as he devours your neck. He grabs a breast powerfully, like he’s consuming your whole body at once. He sucks your neck harder this time. "You're mine," he growls. You want it to be true. You don't want him to ever let go.

His enormous hand goes to your jeans and undoes the button. He lowers the zipper as he continues to suck your neck, and you squirm, desperate for his cock. He slides the same three fingers into your jeans and feels how wet you are. "Fuck," he breathes. "You want it, don't you." He thrusts his clothed arousal into your thigh and you reach down to receive it. You feel his thick, juicy cock through his clothes, and god, it's SO hard. You reach your hand into his jumpsuit and boxers. The girth dwarfs your hand. You've never seen a cockhead this fat.

You palm the tip where pre-cum is pearling and reach your fingers around it. You never thought you'd have a fist full of cock-head. He continues to rub you and you pump his cock to the same rhythm. His other hand comes to your fist on his cock. His hand dwarfs yours as you stroke him together. You use your other hand to wriggle your jeans down.

Your sensitive pearl throbs. Your empty cunt contracts and aches in need. Your body is begging to be filled with his. You frantically kick off your shoes. He reaches down to your foot and hooks two large fingers into your pant leg, grazing the sensitive arch of your foot. He yanks the pant off your leg with one jerk and leaves them lying pathetically around the other ankle; there's no time to bother with it. He hooks his girthy thumbs into the sides of his jumpsuit, helping it down over his muscular ass and hefty thighs, then letting the fabric fall around his ankles. Each of his thighs is the size of your torso.

He presses himself against you so his naked thighs are against yours and he rubs his fat cock against your folds. You feel like you could come any second. He brings a massive hand under each of your thighs and effortlessly lifts your weight, readying his cock to enter you. His cock is so wide you aren’t sure it’ll fit, but you’re wet enough that anything might.

Your inner thigh muscles feel a pleasant stretch as your legs are wrapped around his thick, sturdy torso, your jeans dangling from one foot. He’s holding all of your weight. You nestle the head of his cock into position and he thrusts immediately. His cock head plunges inside, parting your folds. It feels so good as it fills you up. He thrusts again and pulls your body down on his cock.

Now he’s all the way inside. “Oh god, Corey,” It’s like you’re physically complete for the first time in your life. His hands hold your back and ass and you roll your hips and hang on tight around his thick neck as you ride him. You can feel the bulk of his abs against your clit as you go up and down on his cock. You start to come and your jeans finally fall to the ground as you grind your hips into him and ride several strong pulsing waves. As you clench around him, he moans your name, and his meaty fingers dig into your skin. He moves you harder up and down his cock, and then you feel him erupt. He wraps his bear arms around you tight as his fat cock empties itself into you.

As you both finish pulsating, you kiss his thick neck. You look down over his shoulder and watch the muscles of his burly back rise and fall with his breaths. He lowers you to the ground so you’re both standing. He leans back against your car and you fold into him. You feel small. He’s still wearing his work boots and you’re barefoot. And he’s just so broad. You catch your breath for a few minutes and he strokes your hair.

“Uh oh,” he says, and you look down and see your jeans in a puddle of oil. You step away to survey the damage. He pulls his jumpsuit back up over his ass but doesn’t zip it. He goes to the wall to lower your car back down. You grab a pair of shorts from the gym bag you keep in your car and slip them on. You ask if you can freshen up and he brings you into the office. You go through a waiting area that has a couch, a TV, and a few chairs, and there’s a restroom.

In the mirror, you survey the damage - Your hair is a wreck. Expected. One side of your neck is red and purple. You had forgotten about that. At least it’s cold enough to wear turtlenecks.

His deep voice booms from the break room, “YOU WANT A CHOCOLATE MILK?” His voice is so sexy - the depth, the edge, the northern accent.

“YES PLEASE,” you answer. Chocolate milk sounds amazing right now. Corey walks into the waiting room wearing the t-shirt, boxers, and socks. The jumpsuit and work boots are gone. Even without the boots, every step he takes is so heavy. He has a bottle of chocolate milk and two glasses. He pours you a glass as you admire his burly body. His strong arms, his broad chest, his bulging thighs. His beautiful back. You want to memorize it.

He turns on the TV. You curl up against him. You feel like a little cat, dwarfed by his body. You watch an episode together. At a commercial break, he goes and gets another chocolate milk to share.

The next episode starts, and you bring the cool glass to your neck to ease the soreness. It hurts. As you begin to feel some relief, Corey’s eyes darken and he puts down his chocolate milk. “You better not cover that up,” he says gruffly.

You’re startled. “I, um-”

“Let everyone see you’re mine.” Are you? Your heart sings.

He takes the glass out of your hand and puts it down on the table next to his. He starts to prowl toward you on the couch. His thighs are so muscular. He lunges toward you, over you, slowly but forcefully. You uncurl and back up. Your back is flat against the couch and he’s over you. You don’t move. His physical presence shadows and engulfs you. He’s caging you to the couch with both arms and both legs as his torso hovers above you. You pull your legs together, shrinking. He puts his knees down on either side and straddles you.

Corey sits back on his bulging haunches and looks at you. Then he snarls and brings his broad torso closer to your chest. He brings his expansive hand to your little neck. His massive fingers trace the bruises delicately until suddenly his hand clamps down. You can’t breathe. You cough and feel your face turning red. He’s doing it with one hand, that’s all it takes.

“God, you look hot with my hand around your neck,” he says as he loosens his grip a little. You’re sure it’s true - his hand looks hot around anything. The contrast with your delicate neck would be a devastating sight. He brings his pelvis to yours and you feel him getting hard. You cough again.

He lets go of your neck, then slips his expansive hand into your tank top and bra and brings his lips to your neck sweetly. Your breast is dwarfed by his palm. He caresses you lightly and your nipple hardens, then he cups your whole soft breast in the palm of his hand. He brushes it lightly with his palm again as he moves to the other breast. His hand is so massive that he could touch both nipples at the same time if he wanted to - one with his thumb and one with his pinky.

You feel his arousal strengthen as he fondles your breasts. He lowers his body weight onto you. You can barely breathe, but it’s so hot being crushed by his hulking form. You’re getting wet, and you feel him getting harder and harder. He nudges the crotch of your loose gym shorts aside and presses several expansive digits against your wet folds. Your cunt is already aching for his girth again. He strokes your sensitive pearl and your breath quickens.

He uses his thumb to continue while he plunges his middle finger into your entrance. It floods your body with warmth. He follows it with another finger and thrusts them in and out of you together. Your back arches in delight. His hand is so large, he practically holds you like a bowling ball. You imagine he could pick you up like this. He’s working his thumb and huge fingers in all the right places. The cold metal of his pinky ring sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your ass cheek. You find yourself approaching climax faster this time.

He frees his cock from his boxers and drives it all the way into you. The force pushes your head gently upward against the arm of the couch. He thrusts again, harder and deeper, but slow. He continues slowly, and you slowly roll your hips into him, but the pace is about to drive you crazy. You were so close to coming and now he’s edging you.

Corey brings his lips to your neck and kisses your bruises softly, then meets your lips hungrily. You kiss hard and sloppily, breathing hotly against each other’s mouths as he keeps fucking you, but gradually quickens the pace. You look into each other’s eyes, and his darkness is so hot to you. You love the feeling of his fat cock pounding into you, and you wish he’d never take it out.

You love his whole burly body. You pull him closer, desperate to have all his skin against yours. You curl your fingers under his shirt and he lets you remove it, revealing the most solid torso you could have imagined. You remove your own shirt then bra and press your breasts into his chest. His skin is smooth, only lightly covered by fine hair. He fucks you harder and faster and you feel beads of his sweat run between your breasts. You run your hands over his back and feel the intricacies of his strong muscles moving as he fucks you.

His breathing changes. “Fuck,” he says, and starts to come. His voice and pulsations send you, and you come even harder than the first time. As your cunt clenches on his cock, you wish it would never let go. You hug him into you as you both finish coming. He lies there with all his weight on you, like a magnificent weighted blanket, with his cock still inside you, until you really need to breathe and reluctantly shift your pelvis to nudge him out and partly off you. You’ll doze off nestled into the couch with half his weight on you.

You bring your fingertips to your bruises as you drift off to sleep. You’re not going to wear a turtleneck.

THANK YOU FOR READING

if you like Corey, there's more where this came from: my Tumblr index

#corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham smut #corey cunningham #halloween ends #halloween ends movie #slasher smut #slasher fucker #corey cunningham x you #toxicanonymity ☠️

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think-like-a-poet · 6 months ago

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THE BAR OF LOVE

Seb owns a club in central London. One day the car of the two friends, Logan and Oscar, breaks down. Walking inside the club 'Vettle' they did not know that they would get intertwined with all of their drama.

A/N: Contains, Lestappen. Landoscar, Carlando, Yukierre and more.

It was a rainy day in central London, like it was most of the times in the city. The streets were gray and the lights were on. Everywhere you looked, you could see people seeking for cover under umbrellas, their faces bent down against the rain. The sound of dripping water and the traffic filled the air, everyone hurrying to get home.

Oscar and Logan were no exception. They stood under the light of a small street lamp, trying to stay dry as they surveyed the broken-down car. Oscar held an umbrella above his own head and Logan's, struggling to keep it from turning inside out in the strong wind. Logan knelt down beside the car, his eyes scanning the motor as if it was going to magically fix itself. "I don't see what's wrong, we need to get it to the garage," he muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of his sweater.

Oscar shook his head, water dripping from his hair. "I don't think any garages are open anymore this time. Maybe we should just get a hotel room and get it fixed tomorrow." He closed the hood of the car and took a step back, his eyes scanning the surrounding streets for any sign of life. But everything seemed deserted, as if the rain had chased away even the most hardy of souls.

" Can we just go to a bar? I fancy a drink after this day." Logan gets off from the groan and pets of his pants. The two friends had been on a road trip through Europe for weeks now, and things had been going awry from the start. They had arrived in Belgium with half their luggage missing, thank the airport for that. And then there was the fake apartment in Italy, which they had only discovered when they arrived at the address and found themselves staring at the brick wall. Logan's laptop had gone missing during their stop in Spain, and they had spent hours trying to track it down before finally giving up. And to top it all off, they had gotten into a coffee shop in Amsterdam that turned out not to sell coffee, but some other things. And right now, the car is broken down.

They look around again, this time trying to spot any building with loud music and the smell of alcohol. Oscar's eyes land on a club on the other side of the street. You could hear some soft music and he wonders how that place isn't taken down. As he takes a closer look, he notices that the club's name, "Vettel", is written out in big red letters above the door, illuminated by a bright neon sign that seems to glow with an otherworldly intensity. "Let's go there," Oscar says, his voice low and urgent as he points across the street. Logan follows his gaze, his eyes scanning the club with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. He can see a few people milling around outside, laughing and chatting as they wait in line or stand at the bar. It looks pretty promising. "Yeah, okay," Logan says, nodding in agreement as they make their way towards the club. As they approach the door, they can hear the music growing louder and more defined, and Oscar can feel the beat pounding in his chest.

As they entered the building, they were immediately hit by a bright, blinding light that seemed to come from the ceiling. The air was electric with the energy of a thousand people. Everywhere they looked, they saw people dancing with each other, laughing and drinking their favorite cocktails. The music was loud and pulsating, with beats that seemed to reverberate deep within their chest.

The couple made their way through the throng of people, their eyes scanning the room for a spot to grab a drink. They eventually made their way to the bar, where they were greeted by a bartender with dark, curly hair and arms covered in different tattoos. He had a warm, friendly smile on his face as he asked, "What can I get for you sweetheart?" The couple exchanged a look, and then turned back to him. "We'll have two beers, please," they replied in unison. The man nodded and went to get two beers from the tap. Oscar took a good look at the bar. There were two other bartenders next to the smiley man. The other was dressed in a red blouse and was making a gin and tonic. He looks like a model and not someone who worked behind a bar. When he looked at the third he couldn't help the blush that formed on his cheeks. The white blouse he was wearing was pulled up to the elbows and the first three buttons were unbuttoned. He was tan and had a beautiful face. Logan had to slap him to stop Oscar from staring.

The bartender walked back to them and gave them their beers. They both thank him and Oscar takes a sip, the cold beverage hitting the back of his throat is a pleasant way. He needed this. "Do you maybe know where we can get our car fixed?" Logan asks the man as he pays for both of the beers.

" There is a shop just down the road. You can call them and the will tow your car. It is quite expensive thought."

Oscar and Logan thank him and walked away, leaving the bartenders to do their jobs.

"Can one of you ask Pierre, Carlos and Max which drink they want? I have to make some cocktails for table 6." Charles asks his coworkers as he takes out the alcohol that he needs for the order.

"I don't want to talk to him." Daniel threw a towel over his shoulder and started to clean some of the dirty glasses. He would rather take a bath in all of these peoples left over drinks then walk up to Max Verstappen and ask him what he wants to drink. Of course he had to ask Pierre and Carlos too, but he didn't have a problem with them.

"You have to get over yourself Dan. What did that man do to you that you don't like him anymore. Did you fuck or something?" Lando meant the last sentence as a joke and Daniel was glad that he wasn't looking at him when he said it. Otherwise he would have spotted the bright blush that had formed on his face. That did happen, five weeks ago and he wished he would get over it. It is not like he had feelings for the man, at least that is what he thought, a pretty sure thought. It is just that Max seemed to totally ignore that it had happened and left him alone the morning after without a note or text. It was a casual hook up and still it hurts him.

"Who did you fuck?" George asks as he takes a seat on one of the bar stools, his eyes fixed on the Australian man with a mixture of curiosity and mischief. George is a stripper at the club, a pretty good one, but Lando would never admit that out loud to his friend. He always just makes jokes about it, trying to get people to laugh at him. George keeps looking at the Australian man, waiting for an answer as he orders a beer from Lando. "You know I never judge," the tallest Brit says with a sly smile as he takes a sip from his beer.

"No one, why is everyone up in my ass today?" Daniel groans out as he walks into the kitchen, seeking a moment alone and away from the chaos. The other three give each other a look of concern and just shrug their shoulders, sensing that Daniel is carrying some weight around. Charles tries to lighten the mood by asking George if he's ready for his set later that night. George gives a thumbs-up, and Charles nods

"I will ask them," Lando walked away towards the three security guards to ask for their drink preference for the night, all did he already know what they wanted. Max always orders a gin and tonic. Lando had laughed the first time the man ordered it. He had expected Max to order a whiskey neat not a tonic. Pierre orders Cognac most of the time, or a brandy. Carlos liked to change it up every time, so he was curious what the Spanish man would order today.

READ THE FULL STORY ON MY A3O

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bomberqueen17 · 1 year ago

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ok ok ok ok. ok ok. ok

yeah so i think i mentioned this? we'd contracted with the same company that replaced all the windows in our house to also completely remodel our kitchen. and we were on the schedule for february. and obviously what happened was someone was like "wait i can't have my kitchen torn out from Thanksgiving through Christmas through New Year's that's insane", and the company was like "ok cool we'll postpone," and then called everyone on the list asking if they wanted to move their project up, and got all the way to us before some sucker (us) was like "tear out a quarter of my house during the holidays? oh sure sign me up."

anyway. I hadn't realized but they're tearing out to the studs, and adding insulation and replacing the plaster with drywall. i mean this is all the way. Which is good because when they installed the bay window in the front wall they left a crack that the wind literally blows in from outside, in among the layers of plaster and lath and such, and i have a napkin shoved in there and had sort of been wondering if they were gonna fix it and if so how well. That well, the whole wall is going. So, good.

Anyway. So. I've been back from the farm for six days now and I've spent all of those cleaning the house-- clearing space in the living room, which fortunately hadn't really been put back together after the windows thing-- all the living room chairs are still in the basement-- and now the sideboard is in the living room, with all the dishes in it and all the food on it. We had our microwave and toaster on a stainless steel countertop unit from IKEA and now that is disassembled in the basement and the microwave and toaster are on a bookshelf in the living room. And our coffee has always been on a wooden cart shoved against the entryway wall, and now that's moved to a corner of the living room as well, to Chita's great delight (she can get on there. there's nothing to do on there but she can Sit There which is great.)

So anyway. Today I have to take everything out of the cupboards in the kitchen, that's what's left to do. Pots and pans, all our glasses and mugs, our dry goods and baking supplies, and then last but not least our tupperware and shit. It's not that much. it's okay. It's going to take me a bunch of hours. I can do it. It's not that much heavy lifting. Dude is at work with a full slate of meetings, so he'll be away the whole day. I have yet another sinkload of dishes to do, too.

AND a DIFFERENT company is also coming today, to replace our garage door, but that should be straightforward. They had said they'd do this two weeks ago and then just never got back to us, and yesterday we were going to call them and tell them that they were going to have to negotiate for driveway space with the kitchen remodelers, but they called us instead and said they'd be by today. the last possible day they can come. which is good because until they come, we cannot get our snowblower out of the garage, since the existing door is broken. which i did not know about until i was home the time just before turkey processing, during which time i had set up the estimate and contracted for the job and then they just didn't call us back and we hadn't thought it was urgent until the kitchen thing suddenly got wildly moved up. (I had MENTIONED the impending kitchen remodel to the estimator too, but only in a conversational "well it's not until february" kind of way, but i HAD mentioned it.)

So anyway. I need clothes on and I was just finishing my coffee and Chita has just climbed up into my lap and informed me we're going to sit here for several hours. Sorry booboo, i'd love that for us but nope.

#about the author #personal #kitchen remodel

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dark666posting · 2 years ago

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Next Time?

TW: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON *** dark!Billy, non con/ dub con?

The warm early morning sun peeks through your window as you prepare for another day at your new job. As a send-off to the seniors, your school attempted to find suitable employment for each graduating student. Due to your proficient knowledge of cars, you were the perfect and only candidate for the local auto repair shop. You're already adept at simple tasks like changing oil and patching tires, so you're the best help they've had in months.

Your boss is a stout, dark-haired man with little to say. You gained his trust in just a few weeks, so he leaves you to close up most days. The shop is just an old house with a few customizations to make it flow like a business establishment. So the front looks similar to a residence, but the back is a full-service garage. It's easy to lock up quickly and head home after a long day.

Minutes before closing, a blue Camaro pulls into the lot. Emerging from the driver's side door is a familiar face. Billy. He graduated the year before you, but before that, he was a reoccurring issue in your life. Often going out of his way to insult you or make you uncomfortable. Your stoic reactions only fueled his efforts.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're about to close," You put on your best customer service voice and hope he's forgotten about you.

"Doesn't look like it," He glances at the clock on the wall as he confidently approaches the consultation counter. He takes the toothpick from between his teeth. "I just need a tune-up."

"A tune-up?" You jest. You don't mean to say it aloud, but you do. Who comes in at closing demanding an urgent tune-up? Does he want you to hit the engine with a wrench a few times? What the fuck? He turns his head to face you, raising his brows and smirking as if he's shocked or planning something. "I-I mean, is there a certain part you're concerned about?"

"No, just wanna make sure she's running right," He toys with the toothpick using his tongue. You don't think he recognizes you; he's being too formal.

"Alright, pull it into the garage," You gesture to the large section of the building and disappear behind the employee-only door. Billy bites his lip after the door closes behind you. A devious, dark look looms in his eyes as he does what you say. On his way out, he flips the Open sign to Closed and locks the door behind him.

He carelessly whips his vehicle into place, but you give him little to no reaction. The truth is, Billy never let anyone work on his car. He'd never set foot in an auto shop before, but he heard you started working here. At first, Billy just wanted to pop in and be a menace, but your deadpan tone and refusal to react only make him want to try harder. He doesn't like being ignored. His annoying plan quickly becomes something much darker.

"Can I have your keys?" You hold out an empty palm, expecting him to hand over his keys as most customers do.

"Hm," he exhales. He seems to deliberate for a minute before dropping the jingling metal in your hand.

"Thank you." You stare hard into his eyes, unwilling to let him think you remember him. You pop the hood and start checking out the engine, taking mental note of anything that could be cleaned or fixed. "When was the last time you changed your oil?" You ask, annoyed.

"I'm not sure." A lie.

"Okay," You try to hide the annoyance in your voice. You rummage through a large, disorganized box of oil filters and find the one meant for Billy's car. "This will only take a few minutes. You can wait up front if you want." You lift the vehicle on the jack and slide underneath. You work quickly and quietly while Billy stalks around the garage.

You're unable to hear him messing with things. He flips the locks on the large, garage door with a dull clank.

"Everything okay out there?" You ask, peeved at the idea of him messing with your things.

"Oh yeah, must've been the wind," he says. The tone in his voice makes you want to tense up; he does remember you. He used to say the same thing when he knocked all your books from your hands in the hallways. You roll your eyes before sliding out from under the car. You can only imagine what he has planned to piss you off, so you try to streamline the service as fast as possible.

"Just gotta switch the filters and give it a refill, and you'll be on your way," you explain, desperate for the 'on your way' part to stick.

"That's great, thanks," he reaches a hand toward the name tag on your chest. His knuckles graze against your clothed breast as he lifts the small plastic oval. "Y/N." You remain unmoved, eyebrows and expression ever-flat. You know he knows your name, but the closeness of his hand threatened to make you blush. You shake the intrusive thoughts from your mind and finish up the oil change.

You managed to get a splash of dirty oil on the front of your boilersuit, so you unzip it to your waist and tie the sleeves. As you finish pouring the oil and replacing the cap, you realize Billy has seemingly left the room. You scan your peripheral and find nothing. You didn't hear the bell from the door that leads upfront or the door that leads to the lot.

Just as your pursing your lips to say his name, a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind. He lifts your feet off the ground and carries you back through the door you came through. With one hand wrapped around your neck, holding you against him, he knocks everything off the consultation desk. One quick toss lands you right in the middle, knocking the air from your lungs.

Billy towers over you as you try to kick him away and get off the table. He grabs your ankles and drags you so your knees are on each side of his hips. You're still gasping for air as he lifts his white muscle tank between his teeth, holding it up so his hands can undo his belt. He drops the shirt hem from his mouth before climbing on top of you. One arm supports him on his elbow while his hand holds your head down by your hair, and the other one works on sliding his jeans down. He grinds against you, alerting you to the throbbing bulge in his jeans.

"What the fuck!?" You finally form words through the pained gasps. You free yourself from his grip and run straight for the door. You don't realize it's locked, and in the few seconds it takes for you to unlock it, Billy already has you back in his arms.

"Look at you, now. You weren't feeling very expressive before," his words are raspy and breathy. Like he's holding back from something he's been thinking about for too long.

"Get off of me!" You snap, only to be laughed at.

"Okay." He keeps his grip on your hair and painfully yanks you off the table as he climbs off. He pulls you to your knees in front of him, and your heart begins to race with fear.

"Billy, please don't-" You're cut off by his erection springing forward, grazing your lips. He presses the tip against your mouth.

"Already begging. That was easy." His pressure against your lips grows. "Make those faces for me," he laughs, noticing your upturned brows and terrified eyes. You realize he's getting off on scaring you, so you return to your deadpan state. Billy's laughter quickly fades. He tightens his grip on your hair again and forces your jaw open with the other hand. With no time to register anything but the pain of his fingertips dug into your cheeks, he shoves himself as far down your throat as he can.

"Wait!" You try to beg, but he just keeps thrusting into your mouth.

"Don't do anything stupid, Y/N," he warns in a cold, hateful tone. You do your best to remain expressionless, knowing he's going to take you no matter what; at least you can avoid giving him the satisfaction, even if it does make him angry. Billy disregards any need you might have to breathe, ruthlessly throat fucking you. You stare forward, focusing on the patch of hair leading up to his toned abdomen. He chuckles as he watches the tears and make-up roll down your cheeks.

"It's almost like you want me to do this," Billy huffs. "You want me to see what it's gonna take to make you break." You shake your head back and forth, unintentionally causing Billy to throw his head back with a moan. "Oh fuck, good girl." You're disgusted with yourself, but his compliment makes you wet. You can't fight the blush rising in your cheeks.

"Oh?" Billy smirks as he notices. "Getting a little excited?" He tilts his head. You avoid eye contact, just hoping he's going to stop soon. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you'll drop that stuck-up, bitch persona in no time."

Billy slips his cock from the back of your throat, and you take a giant, desperate breath of air. His strength makes it easy to slam you back on the desk again. He rips the boilersuit down your legs, exposing your tiny denim shorts. Keeping you restrained with one hand, he rubs your thighs and grips your hips before unfastening your shorts.

"Okay, Billy. Stop-" You try to get stern, but you're met with a powerful smack to the face.

"I don't know what part about this you don't understand," He rips your panties to remove them easier. "But I'm not stopping until I'm finished." He positions himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your wet slit. You whimper as an unwilling knot forms in your abdomen. "God, if you wanted it this bad, all you had to do was ask," He teases. You look away in protest, fighting the dark red blush on your face.

With one more angry huff, annoyed at your expressionless face, Billy slams into you as hard as he can. For a second, the pain is greater than the pleasure, and you release a loud cry into the empty building. Billy buries his head in the crook of your neck and laughs as you whine between each rough thrust. You beat against his chest, weakly attempting to shove him off of you. He picks up his pace, and you're about to climax. The sounds you're emitting reflect that. He smirks deviously before biting at your neck.

"Tell me what you want," Billy teases. His words bring you back to reality. Regardless of how you're body is betraying you right now, you want him to stop... right?

"S-Stop!" You manage to whimper through desperate moans as the knot in your stomach becomes too much. But this time, he does stop. He slams into you one final time and slowly slides his shaft out so that only his head is inside you. Your brain blanks, and suddenly your back is arching, desperately inching you further down his cock.

"Fuck," Billy grins and roughly wraps a hand around your throat. "Don't tell me to stop again, or I will." He picks up his previous pace and fucks you over the edge in seconds. Your back arches further and further as you finish all over Billy and the desk. You moan so loud, it's almost a scream. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth hangs open. Billy smiles over you as he keeps fucking the thoughts out of your head.

"Can I cum in you?" He asks deviously. You widen your eyes, desperately looking for the words, but all you can do is frantically shake your head no. "Too bad." Billy picks up his speed and starts releasing more and more breathy moans. Weaker than ever, you try to squirm away, terrified of letting him finish inside you. He moans softly in your ear before quickly pulling out of you and tossing you on the floor where he finishes all over your face and hair.

You breathe deeply, still moaning quietly as your pussy throbs. You're relieved he pulled out and your brain is foggy from how many times you orgasmed in total.

"W-Why did you-?" You start to ask why he pulled out.

"'Cause now you're grateful to have my cum all over your face." He answers, already dressed and composed as if nothing happened. He grabs your ripped panties and stuffs them in his back pocket. "And next time, you won't expect it when I really do it," he casually adds before swiping his keys from the counter and exiting the garage. You listen to the sound of his car getting further away as you continue to lie breathless on the floor.

"N-Next time?" You whisper to yourself before giving in to exhaustion and falling asleep.

#tw: noncon #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove non con #billy hargrove smut #billy x reader #dark!billy hargrove #dark!fanfiction #dark!fic #non con #dub con

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royalteamgaragedoorrepair · 9 months ago

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Emergency Garage Door Solutions: Fast and Reliable Fixes

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#emergency garage door repair #24/7 garage door service #urgent garage door fix #emergency garage door opener repair #fast garage door service

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sgtcalhouns · 5 months ago

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Start Me Up

you know how in the limo sex chapter of the mechanic au felix briefly mentions the time they got a little hot and heavy in his truck at the garage? this is that. nothing explicit but I’d still call it nsfw. enjoy!

It was late in the day when Felix pulled into the garage. Tamora was hunched over the engine of a car, too busy working to turn and look at the driver who had intruded on her space.

“We’re closed.”

Smiling from his place in the driver’s seat, he put the truck in park and rolled down the window.

“I’m sorry to be a bother, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m looking for the beautiful mechanic who works here. Have you seen her?”

At this, Tamora stood and turned to face him, a bemused smirk playing at her lips.

“There she is!” Felix said, smiling brightly at her.

Despite herself, she chuckled at his cheesy antics. This sort of behavior had always been nauseating to her in the past, but it was so genuine coming from him that she couldn’t help but be charmed by it.

“Hi, Felix,” she said as she approached the window.

“Hi, Tammy Jean,” he said, reaching out to bring her hand to his lips for a kiss.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she said.

He leaned his arm against the open window frame and sighed.

“I was gonna come up with some excuse, but honestly…” he shook his head, amused by his own behavior. “I just really didn’t want to wait until this weekend to see you.”

He had dropped the playful mask, revealing the truth beneath. They were both busy this week, their schedules refusing to align in a way that would allow them to spend time together until the end of the work week. It was only Wednesday; she almost felt bad that he had only made it through half the week.

“Lucky for you, that sounds like a problem I can fix.”

She stepped up onto his truck’s running board and leaned in through the window to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Immediately she felt his lips curl into a smile. She pulled away to see him gazing love-drunk up at her.

“Yep, that’s exactly what I needed,” he said with a grin.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way just for one kiss.”

“Well, if you wanted more I certainly wouldn’t be opposed—”

She shook her head in amusement as he spoke.

“Move over, I’m coming in.”

Felix scooted over just in time for Tamora to open the door and plop down beside him, shutting the door behind her. He met her halfway this time, gently combing his fingers into her hair as they settled into a tender kiss. When she pulled away again, he didn’t hesitate to voice his displeasure with a whine.

“Wait, shouldn’t you be working right now?” Tamora asked. “I thought Gene had you doing maintenance late tonight.”

“I was able to chip away at some of it during the day today,” he said. His eyes suddenly took on a mischievous glint. “I also told Gene that I really needed to visit the mechanic today.”

Her jaw dropped when she realized what he had done. Felix was so strait-laced, it was almost unbelievable that he was looking up at her with such a sly expression of satisfaction at his own cleverness.

“Lying to the boss?” she feigned outrage. “That’s unlike you.”

“It wasn’t technically a lie,” he reasoned. “All I told him was that I had an urgent problem that only my most trusted mechanic could solve.”

She could tell that he was terribly proud of himself, but she couldn’t help but be curious about how far he was willing to take this.

“Oh, really?” she asked. “And how will you explain yourself if he asks what the problem was?”

Before answering, he pulled her close for another kiss. His priorities for this evening were becoming increasingly clear.

“My starter’s been going haywire, I can hardly keep it under control,” he explained, his voice low as he spoke against her lips. “I think it’s in danger of overheating.”

In spite of herself, his reply earned him a chuckle. He could be quite clever when he wanted to be, and she was happy to reward him with a kiss. Already he could feel himself getting lost, falling deeper into her touch before he could even begin to question it. His hands explored as their connection deepened, mapping out the curve from her waist to her hips as he pulled her close. Tamora’s lips found their way to his neck and the thought crossed his mind that if he hadn’t opened the window, it would probably be coated in steam.

“What about when I send you to work with a hickey tomorrow?” she purred against his skin, making him shiver. “How will you explain that?”

Felix gulped. He ruminated on her question for only a moment before responding.

“You’re very passionate about your work.”

The slight quiver in his voice sent a thrill through her body.

“You got that right.”

Too quickly for his mind to comprehend, Tamora climbed on top of him, straddling his lap as she captured his lips in an unyielding kiss. Her tongue was met with an all too willing entrance into his mouth and his grip on her strengthened in kind. She relished the ways his body responded to her touch, the way she could feel him melting beneath her.

Panting for breath, Felix pulled away, turning his attention to her jaw as he regained control over his breathing. She leaned into him, encouraging him to bestow his attention to her neck. He hummed as her fingers gripped his hair, nails lightly digging against his scalp. This was quickly becoming a dangerous game to play at Tamora’s workplace, but he had long forgotten about everything aside from the places their bodies touched.

As if she had read his mind, she dug her nails more firmly into his scalp and he felt the unmistakable twinge of pleasure in his lower abdomen. Few things pleased her more than how easy it was for her to rile him up, but her overconfidence occasionally caused her to forget that he had committed himself to learning how to press her buttons, too. Ducking his head, he planted messy kisses down the curve of her neck; when the collar of her jumpsuit blocked his path, he pulled the zipper down a ways without hesitation. This alone amplified her desire, but he wasn’t finished.

His hand slipped into her jumpsuit, fondling her breast over the sports bra she was wearing underneath. Her gasp at his unexpected boldness filled him with pride and gave him the confidence to continue the path of his lips down her neck, to the dip above the bone on the left side of her collarbone. Yanking his body flush against hers, she heaved a breathy moan and he smiled against her skin.

Just when Tamora thought she was about to go mad, Felix gently sucked her skin and pinched her nipple in the same moment, and she lost control of herself.

“Felix.”

Tamora’s back arched and she pulled him with her as her body jerked backward. Her elbow came into contact with something solid, and a loud horn startled them out of their intimacy. Turning in Felix’s grasp, Tamora realized that she had hit his truck’s horn, which seemed especially loud due to the acoustics inside the garage. Once they recovered from the shock, they broke into a fit of laughter.

“Safe to say we got a little carried away,” Felix said, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

“We?” Tamora replied with a raised eyebrow. “I blame you for that.”

“Hey, you started it,” he teased, leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. His next thought was mumbled against her skin. “I was just tryin’ to finish it.”

A playful swat collided with his shoulder and he chuckled. They fell into a companionable silence as they collected themselves; Felix zipped up her jumpsuit and Tamora straightened his shirt collar. Brushing her bangs behind her ear, he spoke again.

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked softly, almost shy. It was a stark contrast to his behavior just moments ago.

“No,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”

“I was hoping I could convince you to come home with me,” he said. “I’ll cook.”

She could feel her heart soften as he spoke. Little did Felix know, she hardly needed convincing.

“What about Gene?” she asked. “Won’t he be looking for you?”

His nose wrinkled at the mention of Gene. Right now, his boss was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of.

“If he comes knockin’, I’ll handle it,” he said. “Plus, we could always sneak up the maintenance elevator out back.”

They shared a laugh. Glancing down to where she was seated in his lap, he continued his thought.

“Besides… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but now I really do have a problem I’d prefer your help fixin’.”

#hero’s cuties #sgt calhoun #fix it felix jr #wreck it ralph #my fic #this is corny but felix is corny so #in my imagination they have not said I love you yet but he is horrendously down bad #he likes her so much it makes him look STUPID #thankfully tamora likes a simp #I posted this on my phone so let me know if the formatting is messed up

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triviadimplesblog · 1 year ago

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🇹🇭🇪 🇨🇷🇮🇲🇸🇴🇳 🇭🇴🇷🇮🇿🇴🇳

Chibs Telford x OC Brianne O'Connor

The Crimson Horizon masterlist

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Chapter Seven

The atmosphere in the Clubhouse that day was quite tense. Brianne, Tig, and Chibs sat in awkward silence, sipping their drinks of choice for the morning as everyone else was waking up and the Clubhouse was emptying. Thankfully everyone was in either a sleepy state or hungover to notice the tension. Once Brianne finished her coffee, she bid a quick goodbye to Tig and Chibs, neither of them missing a hint of anxiety in her voice, and made her way through the Clubhouse and out. She decided to take a ride to drown some of her thoughts and tension.

Not even twenty minutes later, Half-Sack walked through the Clubhouse door. He seemed to be less hungover than the other guys so he sure noticed the tension but said nothing. „Hey, guys,“ He greets them, nervously glancing between Tig and Chibs. „I just towed in a car that needs some urgent fixing. You guys up for it?“

Tig glanced at Chibs, their eyes briefly met and he was sure there was some fire burning behind Chibs' eyes. Oh, today should be fun. Tig thought. He shrugged in response to Half-Sack's question, there was no harm in doing some TM work today. Chibs seemed to have a different opinion though. The Scotsman turned his attention back to Half-Sack, his voice laced with frustration even though he tried to hide it. „Anyone else available to help?“

The Prospect shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. „Nah, just the two of you. Everyone else bailed from the TM.“ Chibs nodded. There was a huge SAMCRO party the night before and it was foolish of Chibs to expect everyone to be up and running as usual. If he were honest, he could bail out of this by claiming that he needs to sleep off his hungover too, but he didn't drink that much and couldn't really use that as an excuse.

Tig let out a frustrated sigh, getting up and dumping the rest of his coffee in the sink. His voice held a hint of annoyance at the fact that everyone just bailed like that. Well, he was slightly scared of a certain angry Scotsman, and knowing he has to deal with him alone today wasn't helping. „Figures. Alright, let's do this then, Scotty.“

Chibs' jaw tightened. „Aye.“ His eyes narrowed as he replied with a simple affirmation. He followed Tig towards the door, with a distance between them being quite obvious to the Prospect left standing. Half-Sack was left standing awkwardly, not really knowing what to say at that point. It was obvious the two men had some beef going on but he didn't dare ask.

The two of them walked in silence towards the garage. There weren't many vehicles around so it was easy to spot the one that needed to be repaired, parked next to the TM tow truck. Chibs decided to take the wheel and maneuver the vehicle into the garage where the repair will take place. Sitting behind the wheel, Chibs turned the key once, then twice. The engine sputtered to life after a moment of hesitation. It hummed weakly, struggling to keep running. Meanwhile, Tig stood in the garage, preoccupied with putting on his TM shirt. Hearing the engine struggle with functioning, he knew this job would most likely take up most of their time that day. The screech of tires startled him, his eyes widening as he had to jump out of the way because Chibs almost ran him over. There was no impact, but the possibility of one left an obvious wave of shock lingering in the air.

Chibs swiftly turned off the engine and stepped out of the vehicle nonchalantly. „Sorry, Tiggy. The breaks seem to malfunction.“ What his apology lacked was sincerity, Tig noted while he stared at his brother unbelievably. Chibs patted him on the back, assuring the Sergeant at Arms that he'll look at the issue once they finished the main task.

„Right,“ Tig muttered, still in a state of disbelief as he watched Chibs take off his kutte, and put the same gray TM workshop shirt instead.

Tig couldn't help but notice how Chibs was acting very differently,. He tried to hide it, but he was either terrible at it or his emotions were too much at the moment that he simply couldn't hide them. Usually, the two of them would talk while they worked, but today, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Tig noticed how lost in thought Chibs seemed and he was usually good at paying attention to details. Even when Tig tried to make small talk, the Scotsman would brush him off.

It wasn't just Chibs' emotional state that stood out and raised Tig's concerns. It was Chibs' disregard for safety, specifically Tig's safety. He would move around the garage to retrieve tools he would need to work with as if Tig didn't exist, often brushing past him with such force that caused their shoulders to bump and throw Tig off. He would wave around with the tools – Tig was sure it was on purpose – and it resulted in Tig obtaining minor injuries, such as a few bruises here and there. Nothing that couldn't heal in due time, but it could all have been avoided with a little more care.

Tig had to be the one who would pay attention to Chibs' intentions to hurt him. It became too obvious that he was intentionally inflicting the injuries. But Tig wasn't exactly sure what for. It seemed too coincidental that, ever since he saw Brianne and him that morning, he had become distant and lost in thoughts. But these incidents where Tig was on the receiving end? That was crossing the line. So when Chibs excused himself to use the restroom, Tig seized the opportunity to investigate. He quickly scanned the car breaks and what he discovered left him stunned. Finally, Tig put together the pieces of the puzzle and he couldn't help the frustration that had risen within him.

Once Chibs returned, Tig decided to confront him head-on. He leaned against the side of the car, crossing his arms over his chest, and fixed his eyes on Chibs. „We have to talk, Chibs.“ The Scotsman attempted to brush him off once again and proceed to work on the car, but Tig was not about to let him off the hook. „I had a look at those breaks while you were taking a piss.“ Tig announced with an accusatory voice. Chibs froze at the revelation. Tig noticed the realization on his face and he was now sure that he hit the spot.

Chibs straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he carried. „Ye did?“ He raised an eyebrow and when Tig confirmed he added. „Good for ye, Tiggy.“ Chibs was terrible at hiding the unease in his voice and it only buried him deeper and deeper.

„Why the hell are you acting this way, man?“ Tig demanded with a hint of anger in his voice. „Is it because of what happened this morning? Did seeing me with Brianne get under your skin?“ Chibs locked his eyes with Tig. Jackpot. Tig thought. So it did bother him which meant the lovely Ginger wasn't the only one in love around.

Chibs' features hardened as he pointed an accusing finger at his curly-haired brother. „It's got nothin' to do with that, Tig.“ He wanted to go back to work, but of course, Tig wasn't gonna go easy on him.

„Oh yeah?“ At this point, the Sergeant at Arms was simply taunting him. „It didn't bother you that Ginger had me wrapped in her bedsheets last night?“

Chibs' jaw clenched but he tried to mask his anger, and it was too obvious to Tig. „Brianne is a grown woman, and she's not my Old Lady. She can make her own choices and go around sleepin' with whoever she wants. I don't care.“

Tig sighed, his frustration was beginning to rise even more. „Don't give me that crap. There is something obviously going on between you two.“ He argued. He refused to let Chibs dismiss what Tig himself AND the rest of the Club had noticed.

"There's nothin' between us, Tig," he asserted, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "We're just friends. But that don't mean I'll let ye hurt her.“ With Tig's history with women, Chibs knew that Brianne didn't deserve to be hurt by none other than Tig. She truly didn't. He wanted what was best for her and that wasn't Tig.

Tig's bitter laughter cut through the air. Why would he even think that something was going on between them when something was going on between her and the Scotsman. „Hurt her?“ he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, guess what, Chibs? You don't have to worry 'bout that, 'cause there's nothin' goin' on between me and Brianne." He said as if it was the most obvious thing. „We just slept together, that's all.“

„She agree to that?“ Chibs couldn't help but ask a very important question, for two reasons, in fact. First, he wanted to know if Brianne was the one who asked for Tig. And second, if she didn't and Tig made advances at her without her consent, there would be dire consequences that Tig would have to pay.

„Yeah. Actually, she initiated it.“ He could see the disappointment in Chibs' eyes so he added. „She was drunk, okay?“ There was a sense of guilt in Tig's voice, as he understood the weight of the events that took place the previous night.

Chibs' tension finally reached its boiling point as he suddenly grabbed Tig by the collar of his shirt. „Ye took advantage of her while she was drunk?!“ Tig's eyes widened, feeling the grip on his collar firm and unyielding. He could feel the anger radiating from Chibs and the tension grew heavier.

"Listen, Chibs," Tig said, keeping a steady voice, despite the predicament he found himself in. „Brianne and I spoke before doing it and this morning. We agreed that there are no feelings involved and that she was thinking straight. It was just a momentary release, nothing more.“

Chibs held Tig's gaze, his eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and concern. „It definitely doesn't excuse what ye did! Ye should have known better!“ When he shouted, his disappointment was evident as he shook his head. Tig tried to push the angry Scotsman away, but the grip on his collar made it difficult.

"I didn't take advantage of her, Chibs. She wanted it as much as I did. We both knew what we were doing."

„She was drunk. Ye should've known better.“ He repeated. Chibs released his hold on Tig's collar, stepping back and taking a deep breath to compose himself. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting to the ground as he grappled with his emotions. Then he turned around and began walking away to find solace in a cigarette and maybe a glass of whiskey. But Tig's next words stopped him in his tracks.

„Maybe I should have. But you wanna know why she slept with me in the first place?“ It intrigued Chibs so of course he turned around and waited for the answer. „Because you don't realize she cares for you. Instead, you were with that other girl all night. Right in front of her eyes.“ Chibs' heart sank at Tig's words. He hadn't realized what his actions might cause. He didn't know how Brianne might care for him.

Chibs' usual confidence wavered as he struggled to find the right words to express his thoughts, but in the end, he didn't know what to say to that. If what Tig had said was true, then he should talk to her, but at the same time, he was doubtful. After what happened with Fiona, he was truthfully scared to give in to his feelings for Brianne. He knows what it is like to lose everything overnight. He didn't want to go through with it again and he didn't want her to get hurt either.

Tig noticed his friend's doubt, he did feel guilty knowing he caused pain to Brianne. If he didn't care for her as she did for him, Tig at least knew he cared for her as a friend and wouldn't want to hurt her on purpose. She had become a part of their family over the last few months and neither of the Sons wanted to see her hurt and in pain, just like Gemma and Wendy. „Just talk to her, brother.“ Tig said.

Chibs wanted to do it, he really did. But he couldn't. Losing Fiona and Kerrianne to Jimmy was painful enough, he couldn't let Brianne close to him like that and put her in danger. He turned to Tig. „Not a word of this to anyone.“ He said, pointing a finger at the Sergeant at Arms. He wanted to take Tig's advice, but his own doubts were creeping up on him and he couldn't think about what his next step should be while the events of the past clouded his mind. So without anything else to say, he finally took his leave, deciding to finish the job later when both men weren't so hot-headed.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

When Brianne returned later that day, she hadn't expected such tension between the two men. She watched from the distance as they worked on a car together, but she could see it. This is exactly why she didn't want anyone to know about her late-night adventure with Tig, but despite the consequences, she still made the decision to sleep with Tig in her drunken, jealous state. It meant nothing to her and Tig – they made that much clear. It was a one-night stand and nothing more, it will never happen again either. But it is raising tensions between the brothers and if others find out, she didn't know how they would react.

For the rest of the day, she kept away from the two men, mostly hanging out with Half-Sack and helping clean the Clubhouse. When Tig or Chibs was around, she would find some work to do somewhere else, never staying long around either of them. She knew they both noticed it and that this situation needed to be talked about, but she just wasn't ready to ruin the friendship she had built with them. She was a grown woman and yet she was acting like a high schooler with a crush. She also knew the talk couldn't be avoided for too long, she just hoped it wouldn't happen so soon.

For a few days after her night with Tig, she had been acting the same around the two men. Avoiding them like a plague when she could. When there was Club business, she had to be present and it felt awkward for her to be close to them. Other than that, neither of them spoke to her much except for greetings in the morning and goodbyes at the end of the day. Until Chibs approached her one night. The Sons and their two prospects were having a chill night at the Clubhouse, drinking, playing pool and just hanging out together. Gemma and Wendy were present too. Brianne hadn't gotten so close to Wendy, they spoke to each other but haven't felt like there was any friendship between them.

That night, Brianne was talking to Opie at the bar and getting to know him more, she was supposed to be patched up into his Club in less than a year, so she should work on building a steady friendship with him. She felt Chibs' eyes on her but she tried her best to ignore it and talk to Ope, as they also called him.

„So, prospect life, huh?“ Opie smiled. „Didn't expect to see someone without a dick walking around wearing that kutte when I got out of Chino.“ He took a sip of his beer. He hadn't meant it rudely, he was enjoying Brianne's company quite well. And he's not a stranger to Scottish accent so he didn't have a hard time speaking with her either.

Brianne laughed. „I didn't expect I'd join a motorcycle club either,“ She also sipped on her own beer. „But here I am.“

Opie chuckled, the warm smile he had on his face wasn't fading away. „Yeah, life's full of surprises, ain't it? But I gotta say, it's good to see someone like you in the Club. We need more strong people, regardless of what's between their legs.“

Brianne raised an eyebrow playfully. „Oh, so you think I'm strong, huh?“ A smirk formed on her lips as she stared at Opie, who nodded.

„Absolutely. Takes a lot of guts to prospect with these assholes,“ He gestured to his brothers around the room. „And to save three unfamiliar men at a bar during a shooting.“ Jax must have filled Opie in on Brianne's entrance into their lives. „Not everyone can handle it, but I can tell you're tough as nails.“

She appreciated his compliment. Opie seemed like someone she could be really close to during her time with the MC and someone she could trust as well. He trusted her enough to tell her about his wife's disappointment about him being involved with the Sons, especially after being in jail for five years. But she reassured him she was just scared of losing him and their kids growing up without a father. „Thanks, Ope. I'll take that as a compliment coming from you.“

„You should,“ he replied with a wink. „You've already earned your place here, so it seems. The guys adore you, I can see that. Just keep being yourself, and you'll fit right in.“

Brianne nodded, thanking the man for his words. She really had a change in life during prospecting, even if it was for a short time. She was glad everyone was warming up to her and accepting her in the Club. She was truly starting to feel like a part of this place. Charming wasn't just a town anymore, it was home. Some time passed while she talked and joked with Opie, and when they were on their third bottle of beer, Chibs approached. Opie acknowledged the Scotsman with a nod. Chibs offered Brianne a smile and lifted her beer up slightly as a greeting.

„Mind if I steal the Prospect, Ope?“ Chibs questioned. Opie muttered a 'she's all yours' and got up, patting Brianne on her shoulder while walking towards Jax and a few others who were playing poker at the pool table. Chibs motioned towards the door asking Brianne to follow him. Which she did. Her stomach filled with butterflies out of pure nervousness about what was to come. She didn't know why he wanted to talk to her and she was feeling slightly anxious because of it. As they stepped outside, the warm night did nothing to help soothe her nerves. She tried to calm herself down, but the butterflies only seemed to flutter even more. Chibs sat down at the picnic table and she sat on the bench opposite of him.

The space between them seemed so far yet they were so close, if she were to reach her hand over the table, she would be holding his hand. She wanted to do it, to feel the warmth of his hand and the sensation of his fingers brushing over her skin. „I wanted to talk to ye, darlin',“ Chibs pulled her out of her daydream and she looked at him, not realizing she was staring at his hands. „About ye and Tig.“

Brianne sighed, deep down she knew the topic of their conversation would be this. „Look, Clay was clear-„

„It's got nothin' to do with that.“ Chibs cut her off. Brianne's eyebrows furrowed. If it wasn't about Clay's rules, then what could he be referring to. „The night ye spent with him,“ Chibs cleared his throat before continuing. „Did it mean anythin' to ye?“

„No, it was a one-time thing.“ She replied. „I was drunk and- and frustrated, and Tig was there, ye know?“ The thought of Chibs thinking there was something between her and Tig made her want to rip her hair out. She didn't want him to think she had feelings for Tig, not when she had feelings for the man sitting right in front of her.

„Aye, I do.“ He spoke, his voice softer now. „I've been thinkin', Bri. When I saw you that mornin', I was mad.“ He confessed. Hope lit up like fire in Brianne's heart. Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing? „I expressed my anger by takin' it out on him and being a dick about it. Truth is, I care about ye, love.“ Brianne's heart pounded in her chest to the point she swore she could hear it. At the same time, she felt relief that he was honest with her and even felt the same way she felt about him.

She finally gathered her courage and reached for his hand. He gave into her touch as she gently held his hand. Sparks flew where their hands touched, at least she felt like it. She couldn't control the smile that erupted on her face. „I want to tell ye somethin' too.“ Chibs looked at her curiously, waiting for her to continue. She finally looked up, locking eyes with him. „I care about ye too. More than just a friendship, Filip. I want to give a chance to us.“

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes softened. „Aye, I feel the same way, love.“ He admitted. „For the last few days, I have been tryin' to figure out how to say it without makin' a mess of things.“

Brianne chuckled, finally feeling the weight lift off her shoulders for the first time in these last few days. „Well, you did just fine,“ She said, squeezing his hand gently.

He leaned in closer to her, taking both her hands into his. „So, are we on the same page now?“

She stared at him before breaking into a smile. „Aye, we are.“ She nodded. Without wasting any more time, Chibs shifted to sit on the same bench as her, not letting go of her hands until he was sitting. Then, he released one of her hands to cup her face. Their eyes were locked as they felt the 'magic' of the moment, as corny as it sounded. She gave into his touch, feeling his thumb gently caressed her face. And then, he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a slow and tender kiss.

A round of applause and whistles sounded behind them, Chibs and Brianne suddenly jumping in shock and pulling away from each other. Their eyes fell upon their Club mates, all standing at the Clubhouse entrance. Jax called out, „About time!“ He had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, just like the rest of them idiots. Everyone but Clay, and suddenly made Brianne slightly nervous. He approached the two of them, placing one foot on the bench where Chibs sat previously. He leaned forward to get a good look at the new couple. He looked intimidating and just about ready to kick them out of the Club. Brianne completely forgot about her spot in the MC, what if Clay really does kick them out? Chibs would lose his Club and his brothers and she would lose what she had built over the last few months.

„Should I be concerned about any issues that this may cause to the Club?“ His voice was stern as he spoke, further intimidating Brianne. But Chibs seemed relaxed as if he saw something she didn't. She shook her head slowly from side to side, unable to produce proper words. „Good,“ Suddenly, Clay broke into a smile. „It's about time. You two have been eye-fucking each other for weeks. It made me sick.“ He laughed suddenly. Brianne felt her face heat up but it didn't seem to affect Chibs at all. He definitely knows his President way better than she does.

„Yer a dick,“ She muttered, sighing in relief. Chibs chuckled and she looked at him, nudging him playfully. „So we good?“

Clay smiled widely. „I'm not gonna cockblock you if that's what you're asking.“ Brianne mentally scolded herself for even asking. „Yeah, we're good. Looks like you've found yourself an Old Man, sweetheart.“ He reached across the table to pat her shoulder. Brianne just smiled thankfully. Looks like life is finally giving her a break.

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #tommy flanagan #bobby munson #clay morrow #jax teller #theo rossi #tig trager #chibs telford fic #chibs x oc

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