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#also known as the bike fic
quynhorlose · 1 year
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Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy // “the hairpin turn” @quynhorlose // “The Elektra Complex” @filmnoirsbian // Beth Cavener // “Best Friend’s Brother” @mayzarbewithyou // Cain and Abel, Keith Vaughan + Andrew Kozma “Song of the Insensible” @brotherism // @mayzarbewithyou // “My Name Is Memory” Ann Brashares // “Cain and Abel” Adolf von Hildebrand // @mayzarbewithyou
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mrsharrington83 · 11 days
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Idiots in Love
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REQUESTED – My asks are open if you have a request ^_^
Summary; (For the sake of this fic, Steve and Nancy never happened) Steve and reader being dumb and having moments of being iconic together. Since everyone knows that Steve isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, maybe he just needs another person to be as dumb as him or maybe he just needs someone else to match him mentally.
Words; 3.4k
warnings; swearing, usual stranger things, things, slight mention of drug use, blood and injury. not proof read.
A/N; thank you for all the requests! I apologise for taking so long getting through them all. i cant write a 0.5k-1.0k fic for the life of me at the minute! Its 2am for me now, but i really wanted to get this out!
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Dustin said Steve was an idiot because he had too much hair on top of his head which left too much room for air. For you, Dustin said it was because you’d been around Steve for far too long.
Hawkins, Indiana, 1983.
School was a bore, you tried your hardest and whilst you did ace some classes, you also completely failed in others. Picking up extra tuition and getting help from anyone who would give it to you was a struggle. You didn’t like asking for help, it made you feel dumb, but more than that, it made you feel useless. Why did you struggle so much in certain classes and not in others?
You honestly thought it was from a fall you had as a child when you were learning how to ride a bike. Your father had stupidly taken off your stabiliser wheels and let you go on the hill of your childhood garden, right into a tree. Whilst you were fine overall, you did end up with a nasty bump on your head.
Not only were you not that smart academically, but you were also very accident-prone, which is how you met Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. You weren’t the most popular person in school, you had a small group of friends and that was enough for you. You didn’t want to be known by everyone. As you walked down the busy hall to your locker, hardly taking in your surroundings and paying attention, you slammed into someone’s back. Your extra tuition books and folders fell to the floor,
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” The person you slammed into turned around, Steve Harrington, one of the most popular, sought for guys in school looking down at you, “I- I” you stuttered and he smiled, placing his sunglasses on the top of his head, he always found your first meeting adorable, it was something the party had heard several times and not got bored of hearing it. The nervousness in your eyes, the way you pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. The way you bent down to get your books, just as he was doing the same. Your heads collided and bounced off each other, his glasses joining your books on the floor, thankfully not broken,
“Shit! Sorry!” It was Steve’s turn to apologise as he slipped his discarded glasses into his pocket and pulled all of your books and folders into his arms, standing quickly so as not to embarrass himself further, “are you okay?” you just laughed and nodded, taking the books from his arms as you thanked him. That was the start of yours twos budding romance.
Hawkins, Indiana, October, 1984
It was a constant source of amusement for the party, they couldn’t believe some of the stuff you and Steve came out with half the time and how you were both so in sync,
***
“Maybe if we set this on fire,” Mike stated as he looked toward all the drawings on the floor,
“Oh, yeah. That’s a no.” Steve bites back, shaking his head, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder as he leaned on one foot, hand on his hip,
“A double no at that,” you called back to scrambling kids who were already gathering supplies and pointing at drawings on the floor,
“The mind flayer would call away his army,”
“They’d all come to stop us,”
“We circle back to the exit,”
“Guys.” Steve interrupted the party as they carried on talking between themselves, rushing around, completely ignoring the two older people in the house,
“By the time they realise we’re gone-“
“El would be at the gate,”
“HEY, HEY, HEY, this is not happening!” You and Steve bellowed over the party as they stopped to look at the both of you, your arms falling around as Steve grabbed the tea towel from his shoulder, whipping the air,
“Do you two share the same brain cell?” Dustin looked towards you both,
“No!” you both shouted in unison again, looking towards each other before laughing, the kids joining you.
***
They were all ecstatic when they found out you were both dating, though they did have to push you both in the right direction, this whole thing was an unlikely friendship between people. The only reason you were involved with Dustin and his friends was because you babysat him whilst his mum was at work, this caused you to get involved with the disappearance of Will last year and in turn, with you being close to Steve. He was brought into the mix also.
It was so obvious to others, how you both felt about each other, but it wasn’t for you and Steve. After some coxing and words of wisdom from the younger party, as you called it. You and Steve were finally an item, though they didn’t find out until months later when Steve let it slip,
“Dustin, stop picking on my girlfriend, would you?” Steve looked up from his plate of food as he moved bacon around with his fork, leaning back against the dining room chair as he stretched,
“But she just- wait? What... girlfriend?” Dustin looked back and forth between you both, the pair of you looking confused, “you’re meant to tell us!” Steve carried on moving food around his plate as you took a bite of toast leaning against the counter,
“Tell you what?” you asked wiping the crumbs off your hands onto a discarded tea towel,
“Have you been listening to any of this conversation?!” Dustin questioned, “That you’re together! I can’t believe this! How long have you two been a thing?! Wait until the others find out about this!” You picked up your plate with half a slice of toast left and took a seat opposite Steve as Dustin still stood shocked, playing with his walkie,
Steve finished up his food and stood up to put his plate in the sink, he looked at the calendar furrowing his brows slightly at the small writing, “Like seven months? Right?” he looked back at you as you nodded, your mouth full of toast.
Dustin once again stood dumbfounded, his mouth visibly agape as he pressed a button on his walkie, “you are not going to believe this, guys.”
Hawkins, Indiana, June 1985
“Oh, this is ridiculous.” You smoothed out part of your Scoops uniform that was now creased and bloody from your split lip and Steve’s as he was continuously hunching over you in a Russian loading car trying to gather his senses and not be knocked from pillar to post by Dustin’s driving up front, laughter bubbling in your throat, the situation was anything, but funny. All three of you (Steve, Y/N, and Robin) had been interrogated to the max, but once they found out there was a tie between you and Steve, they took advantage of that.
***
“Who do you work for?” the guard got down into your face once more, holding the arms of the chair you were tied to, his eyes glaring into your own,
“How many times do I have to tell you I work for Scoops Ahoy? I scoop ice cream for a living!” you cried out as you earned another slap across your already throbbing jaw. Steve was tied up behind you already passed out, they’d done a number on him and all you wanted to do was get out of this place and tend to his injuries, he didn’t deserve any of this. Robin was tied to the corner of the room having to witness her two new best friends being treated like this.
The Russian guard got in your face once more, “it looks like your friend here needs a doctor. Just as well we have the very best.” A smirk across his face made you see red, and without thinking you spat at him. A slight tinge of blood from your split lip was dripping down your chin, staining the collar of your uniform, “you’re going to regret that little one.” With that he muttered something else in Russian before leaving the room with the other guards, leaving you three on your own once more, but not without Robin calling them all bastards and yelling to let you all out of there.
“Steve?” you called gently as Robin tried to manoeuvre her arms from her binds to no avail. Unlike you two, she was tied to a bench so she couldn’t do much whilst she was bound up. Steve started to stir, pain evident in the way he groaned, “oh thank god... are you okay?” you asked quietly not wanting to be too loud,
“Ears are ringing, I can barely breathe and, my eye feels like it’s about to pop out of my skull, but apart from that I’m doing pretty good.” His voice was laced with pain and sarcasm.
***
You were pulled out of your thoughts as you came to an abrupt end, all three of you hitting already pained parts of your body as Dustin crashed into something,
“You guys alright back there?” Dustin asked as he looked to Erica with a slight shrug, “They’re fine, come on. Let’s go.” Dustin hurried out and opened the back of the loading car, hurrying you all out. Time was of the essence after all. This definitely made him think about how he acted sometimes, it was a handful and the fact you and Steve cared for him and all of his friends ample times made him furrow his brow slightly, not that he would change after they got out of this mess, he had an excuse, he was still younger than you.
 “Guys! Come on!” Dustin bellowed as he huffed in annoyance, slapping his wrist, and ushering everyone into the elevator.
“Oh my god! A skateboard!” you screamed out in joy, jumping on a red platform truck as Dustin got to work pressing buttons and hoping for the best, once the elevator started to move, you started to struggle. Steve grabbed hold of the platform truck to stop it from moving too much,
“It looks like you're surfing!” Robin pointed at you as Dustin and Erica glanced at each other quite clearly done with your shit.
“They look drunk,” Erica stated, all of you now splayed on the floor talking about food, “why are they drunk, or drugged?” she questioned as Dustin felt Steve’s forehead,
“He’s burning up,” Dustin spoke to Erica alarmed,
“You’re burning up” Steve bit back, trying to push Dustin away with his hand whilst you and Robin laughed at the ceiling,
 “Eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated, Steve,” Dustin pat his cheek lightly, “are you drugged?”
“How many times, Dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” Steve poked Dustin’s cheek and started laughing again as you and Robin shot up,
“you have marijuana?!” you crawled over to Steve and laid next to him, “gimme!” more laughs erupted from the three of you as Dustin and Erica watched on, wondering what the hell they were going to do to get you all out of this mess in one piece.
Getting you all back to the mall safely was a lot harder than Dustin could have imagined, Robin was picking at her uniform whilst tripping up over thin air whilst you and Steve were trailing behind humming and drumming the air to Simple Minds- Don’t You (Forget About Me) a song that had been on the radio continuously for the past month- a song Dustin thought you were both getting annoyed with as it came on the radio hours before you were in this mess and you were both scrambling with the radio to turn it off with rushed words of, fuck sake, turn it off, not this again, if I hear this song one more time I swear,
“Don’t you, forget about me.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t.”
“Don’t you, forget about me.”
Keeping you all hidden from the Russians was a lot harder than it could have been, with you three wanting food, and then trying to separate to find food, Dustin thought of a quick solution and got you all into the movie theatre but not before Steve reached into the bin to pull out a bag of discarded popcorn,
“You three sit.” Dustin pointed at the three vacant chairs as you all complained about being too close, and how the seats sucked. “Well then don’t watch the movie!”
“But we want to watch the movie!” Robin exclaimed as other people around you started to get agitated,
“Then watch it!” Dustin apologised to other people trying to shush you all, changing his tone to a hushed annoyed whisper, “Whatever you do. Don’t... go... anywhere.”
“Fine, Dad.” Steve perked up shaking his shoulders slightly as you and Robin snickered, taking handfuls of popcorn and shoving it in your mouth.
“That settles it,” Dustin huffed, “I'm never having kids." The pair sat down a few seats away, keeping their eyes off you trying to fetch up a plan.
Once they both realised you three had left the movie theatre, Dustin let out an audible sigh from his chest, this day, was not it.
“So, like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but... I’m pretty sure...that mum was trying to bang her son.” Robin leaned against the wall as you and Steve took turns drinking water from the fountain,
“But they’re the same age.” you stopped drinking and looked towards Robin,
“No, but he went back in time.” Robin looked up to the ceiling, balancing on one foot and then the other,
“Then why is it called back to the future?” Steve asked confused as he stopped drinking, letting Robin get to the fountain.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” you stated “Back means past so how could he be travelling back to something that hasn’t even happened yet?” you questioned Robin, Steve looking at you doe-eyed, completely agreeing with you,
“He has to go back to the future because he’s in the past, so, the future is actually the present, which is his time” Robin added as you looked confused,
“wh...What?” you and Steve looked at each other astonished before you both got distracted by the ceiling lights, dizziness, and churning in your stomach had you all rushing to the toilet, bringing up everything that happened in the day.
“Well that was no fun,” your voice was harsh, your throat sore as you leaned back against the cold wall of the cubical, no longer dizzy, everything still, the walls no longer moving around you, “Back to the Future though, I can’t get over that.”
***
Hawkins, Indiana, March 1986
Walking into the creel house was way more disturbing than it looked outside, creaking floorboards, furnishings covered in dust and cobwebs, completely derelict, wherever you stood, something creaked.
Lucas went to check on a small lamp for some light, probably to take the edge off an already eerie situation, “looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.” He stated as Dustin turned on his flashlight, you and Steve stood behind him glancing back and forth to each other,
“Where’d everyone get those?” Steve asked noticing that everyone had one except you and him.
Dustin looked back at the both of you as if to say unbelievable, “Do you two need to be told everything? You’re not children.”
“Thank you.” You said under your breath a little, huffing as Dustin took his backpack off,
“Back pocket.” He was used to you both forgetting things like that, you were both usually good with weapons and things you might need, and everything you didn’t, but never flashlights. You really did need to be told.
Max pointed out a big grandfather clock, hoping that everyone else could see it taking you away from looking at the scattered furniture,
“Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?” you asked looking at the hands that were still,
“Maybe he’s, like, a clockmaker or something?” Steve said next to you, as you pursed your lips actually thinking about it,
"I think you cracked the case, Steve.” Dustin chimed in, shaking his head in disapproval as you watched on, nudging Dustin slightly. Nancy told everyone to go in groups of two leaving you, Steve and a smiling Dustin. Steve let out a sigh and walked off signalling you to follow, “Was that a sigh?”
“No, I did not sigh.”
“Why’d you sigh?”
“I didn’t sigh. Just come on, dude.”
“I heard you.”
“We were just always partnered up with you, okay?”
“You have a problem with that?”
“It’d just be nice to, I don’t know, mix it up a bit.”
You continued to walk the stairs, creaking with every other step, as Dustin hurried up behind you, the pair of them starting to bicker a bit, a usual occurrence, “I’m boring to you? Is that it?”
“No it’s the opposite,” Steve added as he moved his (Dustin’s) flashlight around careful not to knock anything off the walls,
“Maybe me and Y/N should partner up and you go around this creepy house alone, is that what you want?” Dustin asked as Steve shot his head around almost tumbling back down the stairs,
“No! I don’t want that, sorry man.” Steve moved his hair that had fallen a little flat huffing once more. “We do make a good team, The Three Musketeers and all that.” You smiled at Steve’s remark, it was a book you both had to read when you were at school, though boring at the time, the lessons you learned from the book stayed with you. Chivalry, honour, heroics, and willingness. It was true. You, Steve, and Dustin probably had spent the most time together because even though you could both be a bit daft from time to time, you were both reliable and trustworthy with any problem Dustin had, even if that meant issues outside of the upside down. You both never found anything that Dustin had to say daft.
“Hey, uh, Henderson?” Steve asked, looking at the cobwebs that littered the place, “could you maybe, uh, clarify what sort of clues we’re supposed to be looking for here?”
“I second that,” you cut in,
“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.” Dustin looked back at the both of you smiling, “Sherlock Holmes.” Seeing you both confused he huffed sincerely.
“That’s great. Thanks. That’s great. Really helpful” You huffed and shook your head, feeling dumb as Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb slowly, a knowing glance only the both of you understood.
“You're not stupid, not to me anyway.” Steve smiled as a small laugh escaped your lips a small vent in the floor catching your eyeline as you walked over to it, “Y/N, let me.” Steve crouched down in front of you lifting the metal from the floor, jars of preserved insects had you grimacing before Steve shot up alarmed, shaking his arm and flailing his hand to get a spider off, both of you clumsily falling through cobwebs and the door, into Nancy,
“Hey, hey, both of you, stay still. Stop moving.” She took time to rid you both of cobwebs as she lightly dusted dust off your arm, you and Steve then looking over each other,
“It was a black widow.” Steve lets out a breath of air, calmer than he was before, “Don’t go in there.” He shut the door adverting his attention back to you, moving a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, kissing your nose lightly. “So uh, Nance. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world, and stuff. Maybe we can all go out. You know? Me, Y/N, you, Jonathan, when he’s back.”
“I’d love to.” Nancy looked at you both endearingly, she was glad you both had each other. Everyone needed someone. She knew you both back in school, but never really spoke to either of you. She was too wrapped up in perfecting her grades, reading the next book on the shelf, but she was so thankful to be in your lives now.
Steve was finally with someone he could be himself around without feeling bad or awkward, even in this messed up world the both of you bounced off each other as though it were effortless. Although you were sometimes the biggest idiots, you were the biggest idiots in love.
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hwaightme · 10 months
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This world
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THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)
🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x f!reader 🏍️ genre: romance, fluff, action, smut, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, smidgen of angst, sprinkles of comedy 🏍️ summary: caught between the past and present, you search for a new beginning in night city as a mechanic at outlaw customs. how will a fateful encounter with seonghwa, the leader of the blue birds, help you feel alive? 🏍️ wordcount: 16.2k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick edit, likely inaccuracies in mechanics and motorcycles, mechanic!yunho, businessman!jongho, biker!yeosang, mechanic!reader, tattooed!reader, gang life/activity, misuse of lore terminology, language, food, wounds/injuries, pain, bike chases and dangerous tricks, talk of death/rebirth, identity searching, imagery and setting inspired by outlaw trailers, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: i gave myself a one day break, listened to a dream i had... and this happened. totally was not spooked today and rushed to edit in a feverish state... always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~
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🏍️ a/n pt2: biker!hwa supremacy also spreads to the exchange event hosted by @kflixnet for @qqtxt (and thank you @alohajun for organising!) - hope you enjoy!!
🏍️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug
🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024
🏍️ nsfw tags: condom used, slow, a dom!leaning reader with a soft!hwa, handjob, slight edging, praise, save a bike - ride a biker, focus on intimacy and emotional experience, some mutual masturbation, f!masturbation, literally just two people in love with each other, cuddling and implied aftercare
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The artificial suns of Night City shone bright in a palette of neon hues, so vivid and vibrant that one could almost forget that there had ever been a real star in the first place. Kids wished on blinking lightbulbs and travellers followed endless expanses of darkness, more accustomed to uncertainty than the belief that there was a veritable ally in the form of a celestial sign or a constellation. Everyone wore the same perfume: an acrid concoction of smog, grease and disgust that lingered whenever a visitor from another district came by, blending to form a hatred for all things that existed outside of the palace of neon. This was the palace that you had willingly made your home, and found that if you were to shut your eyes and then dare to peek through your lashes at the kaleidoscopic landscape, it took on the shape of an eloquent illusion of divinity. A rudimentary vision, a utopia carved out in impermanence, commanded by wishful thinking and a desire for anything except what you had known. This was your new home, and you were going to try as you might to cling to it, and find peace amidst the suffocating starless expanse.
You had arrived without a particular plan in mind, with only a rucksack and the tattoos decorating your skin to keep you company on your journey. The only persistent parasite that gnawed at your flesh and jolted you awake like a scalding whip when the roads seemed to be endless, was a burning desire to erase anything, everything that served as a reminder. While you were a believer in growing from the past, and reflecting on it, treating each memory and learned skill as a stepping stone towards a better future, the weight of each step was overwhelming, the gaps between them unbearable, and soon enough, you found yourself to be stretched too thin over your own existence, to the point where you had gained an alarming transparency, one tiny step away from disappearing into the lack of self that you had wholly succumbed to until your sudden evaporation and accidental escape to Night City. 
At the same time, you were not entirely ungrateful for the ‘you’ you had become. The miscellaneous arsenal of know-how and street smarts landed you a job, had you settled into a group of people who did not seem too bad and most importantly did not ask too many questions, gave you a roof over your head and had you working long hours in the garage from the get-go. That, from your experience, was the best way to forget and to start anew. So long as you did not speak to your clients more than necessary, instead focusing on their priceless metal steeds that you had the pleasure of tinkering with for hours on end. In this way, you got to see your clients at their most vulnerable, scrutinising you but so helpless that it nearly made you laugh, comparing the scene to a child watching their mother patch up a toy that they had torn after playing a little too roughly.
This approach turned out to be the one that won the big bucks in the city. Less talk, more trust. And resulted in the previously sceptical owners of the mechanic shop you had strolled into on your first day in town, passively protecting the shell of the self that you carried, uncaring for what fate had in store, to finally begin to warm up to you and treat you less like a pest, and more like a colleague. Only took them a couple of months. Though it would be foolish to hope for anything else, so you had simply settled into the rhythm of waking up, heading downstairs from the crammed studio that they had offered you - a stuffy dark corner, definitely the humblest abode but more than enough to crash in and more than generous for a person who had been a total stranger, and going to a different open cave in the garage and workshop, this time one dedicated to all things motorcycle. Since Outlaw Customs, a name which you had found incredibly comedic and ironic considering a high percentage of the clientele fit the shop description, was primarily for automobiles, there was not much dedicated to the untameable beauties that you loved so much. The head of the shop, a young man by the name of Jeong Yunho who you swore spent more time under cars than under those neon lights outside, did motorcycle repairs mainly out of necessity, following the recipes for replacement, so to speak. The locals knew that to see his craftsmanship, mastery and artistry at work, they needed to let him get his hands on a car. Of course, it did not mean that he could not fix bikes, far from that, in fact, over the years and especially after another mechanic shop was busted by the forces and forced to close for something or other - no one could ever guess what new crime was added to the list on any given day, Yunho was proud to say that he did not need to consult his hefty stack of manuals for when the most regular clients came by. But it did still mean that when he found out that he could pass off the task to a new hire, he did it in a split second, without sparing it a single thought.
As such, it was you, your beloved corner in the workshop, and a tranquillity under those buzzing fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling. Not talking much, mainly business, occasionally sharing a laugh with your coworkers. They were easy to like, that much you had gathered over the months of being paid in shelter, food, water, and whatever else you needed so long as you kept on working to keep the brutes of Night City happy and the engines roaring. While the other guy in charge, Choi Jongho, an initially unreadable, unpredictable man who appeared in the store at random and mainly handled the ‘financials’, whatever it meant and you sure as all things bad were not about to get your nose in that side of the business, was somewhat less cordial with you, your nonchalance when it came to social interaction had put him at ease, along with, how he had it, your hands that told your story. Interesting what he could spot under the machine grease and fading ink.
It was another timeless day where Jongho was out for what he called ‘negotiations’ - again you did not need to know what it meant so long as the parts kept coming, Yunho was messing about with an old mustang that the customer said could be changed according to the mechanic’s own tastes, and you were idle, having just completed a re-flash of an engine control unit for a rider who apparently had nothing to lose and let you fully reconfigure his precious in the hopes of improving rideability. Same old for you, but nevertheless exciting when a new person gets so vulnerable so as to give their bike up with only faith in their hands, and in yours.
Wheeling the bike away from the main platform, you parked it right at the empty section by the brick wall lining the inner part of the garage, the aftermath of a miniature spring clean you had carried out to prep the workspace for a higher volume of bikes coming through. After patting the seat, as if lulling the machine into a slumber, you covered it with a tarp to protect it from any other dust or sparks - and subconsciously, from curious eyes if there were any that would peek into the shop. You stood up straight, taking the towel from your shoulder and attempting to wipe off the remains of your work, though much like your boss, who was now humming some random tune that he probably heard at one of the underground clubs, took pride in each stain, each streak of dirt. It was a reminder that you were here, you were present and alive, and that you were doing what others could never do exactly like you could. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air, the only one that could be ever taken in any Sector, in any City that existed in this nation, and you were almost convinced that this spread to the whole world.
Finding the stool on wheels that apparently used to belong to a nearby barbershop until that closed down, you sat down and sighed, rocking side to side by repeatedly pushing yourself with your feet before getting tired of the motion and rolling across to a workbench that you and Yunho had managed to craft out of a multi-shelved storage unit abandoned on the street, clearly another Sector’s kind donation to the local community, and you were not too proud nor picky. Picking up a brake pedal - a part off a ruined Kawasaki Ninja 2H/R that the universe threw into your arms after the wreck and helped you salvage, somewhat out of respect for the beast that it had been in its heyday, somewhat because you wondered if you could make it work on a horrific Frankenstein’s monster hybrid someday, or another bike of the same make, you twisted it, metal glinting white. The weight of memories, the feeling of it pressing against the foot despite the thick layers of rubber on the boot. Everything about that bike was as hypnotising as a dancing open flame, stunning, an engineering masterpiece, and one that you were praying to revisit, re-experience even if it was the last thing you were to ever do. Perhaps in a distant dream. Replacing the component in a top drawer of the bench, you got to work on signing off on the work completed, not that anyone even had a legal signature anymore, it was more of a quick doodle to hint at the work completed, just in case if the rider were to find themselves too far away, and had no method of fixing faults and could not recall the mods made. As if that would ever happen; you exhaled sharply, finishing the swift sketch and folding the paper in half, then into quarters and dropping the pen to let it hit the back wall. It was suspiciously peaceful at the OC, you concluded, unsettling. Only Yunho going about his business, the artificial cylindrical suns, and the neon climbing from the outside and coating the front entrance to the garage in shades of blue, purple and magenta. 
You waited in suspense, having caught the echoes of an engine in the far distance - still a few too many blocks away from you to determine what the source of it was exactly, but nevertheless, your instincts and the obvious approach of the sound was telling you that you were soon going to find out. Shutting your eyes, you made out an odd stuttering, reminiscent of a coughing fit in a human, as if the air system was out of tune, totally whack on the poor vehicle. The heart ached. Who could possibly mistreat a bike in such a way? Clutching onto the fabric of your black cargo trousers that you had decided would be something of a uniform for you, you listened on, confused. The rumble was familiar, albeit torn up and in need of a fix. Nonetheless, this was a powerful steed, a respectable monster that you could not wait to dissect and reassemble. Hands beginning to burn with excitement, heart starting to race, you stared off into the wall, waiting for the customer to arrive and made your guesses as to what the motorcycle could be like any mechanic in need of a fun pastime would. If you guessed correctly, you were in for an exhilarating time. 
Soon enough, you heard the bike grind to a halt outside of the shop, and the thump of feet hitting the concrete. Not yet looking up, you waited for the figure to approach and cross the line that marked the end of the driveway and the beginning of the garage. Hearing Yunho make a move to roll out from under the car, evidently after having seen the boots form below and recognising them, you began your own sign of common courtesy and moved to turn and stand from the stool.
“Good time of day, welcome to Outlaw Customs how may I-”
“Rear wheel is busted and the mudguard’s wrecked on the right edge, and the spark plugs need replacing - totally fouling. Can you do that in two hours? I’m on a tight schedule.
You froze, the politeness caught in your throat and fizzling out to be replaced with an astonishment at the crudeness. Raising your head to let yourself inspect the man before you fully, you found that he looked every bit like the arrogance that had oozed from the first words he spoke to you. The flashy black and orange outfit, the glimmering belt buckle, the damn chains… the usual lowlife from a gang who had nothing better to do than to be the pretty boy. Slowly, your hope for the particular bike you had placed mental bets on dissipated, to be replaced by a wish that this hoodlum had a standard no-name, beat up and totally not worth the money ride that you could half-ass and let him disappear.
With a sigh, you heaved yourself forward, approaching the biker with a cold resolve and purposefully taking your time with every movement, seeing as the less you had to speak, the higher were the chances that you were not going to cuss this man out and focus on the work you had set out for you. Knowing the bikers from these parts, either they were too knowledgeable and could diagnose correctly enough, or they were so utterly wrong that you wanted to bash their head in. Time would tell which one of the two this guy was. Before you could get a word in, much to your fortune, Yunho was by your side and wiping his hands to give the black-haired man a firm handshake. You noted that the visitor was shorter than your boss, giving you a slight inner satisfaction for an unknown reason, but you bit any remarks back and remained stone faced, seeing as you were not sure just how hostile this man was going to be towards you.
“Seonghwa, long time no see!” your boss greeted the man who now had a name, very animated, amiable. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in a silent question.
“I see you have a new hire. Business doing well?” being addressed in third person was unsettling, but it was better than attempting to hold eye contact with the biker who gave you the urge to forget professionalism and throw a punch at lightning speed. It was hilarious how quickly your instincts returned to you in such circumstances.
“Guess you could say that, thanks to her, mainly.” with a playful smugness Yunho responded, placing a hand on your shoulder. If you did not know better, you would think that he was showing off, but his glance at you, a quick check, and his gestures made you think of your brother. Bittersweet, but still a fond series of chapters.
“Oh?” it was impossible to tell whether Seonghwa was mocking you or just taking the piss of the tenseness that he brought with him, but the bugger dared to pretend to be pleased with your presence, nearly making you scowl. But you were too good at treating people with an unnerving neutrality, so an unperturbed mechanic ready to inspect the ride you remained, much to the biker’s dissatisfaction.
You could tell that he put up a front of sorts, an attention-seeking, egoistic and merciless front, the presentation of the mentality of a murderer on the road, the man who would not hesitate to lead you into a ruin just for laughs. It was always fun to dismantle the nerve cells of such bastards; all you needed was his bike. His eyes found yours quickly enough, confident, unwavering, and your lips curled into a close-mouthed smile as if you were not just pondering the destruction of his ego. A flash of what could only be described as curiosity passed over his irises, and you swore you saw his pupils adjust as if they were a camera lens ready to capture you. His gaze travelled down your body and back up again, studying you, taking you in, settling on the tattoos that adorned your forearms and were revealed by you having pushed up the sleeves of the black turtleneck you were wearing. What was he searching for, you asked yourself before you noticed the solitary, dangling earring on his left ear discovering a single silver feather on its end. Of course he had to be a Blue Bird. Of course he had to be a so-called peace keeper of the city. No wonder he was so full of himself, at least upon first meeting. Now you really wanted to see his bike.
“Motor master, I tell you. Can sort out your beauty in no time.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Seonghwa squinted, earning an eye roll from your boss.
“Got you, yeah. Anyways, meet Y/N,” the man turned to you once again, seeing how your expression remained unchanged, “she’ll be finding common ground with your bike from now on. “Noticing how neither of you spoke nor made a move to greet, Yunho raised his hands and continued while ambling back to the car, “Now, now, don’t talk over one another, you will have plenty of time to chat.”
“So,” you began, not wishing to remain unproductive any longer and wanting to rid yourself of this client as soon as possible, “Seongh-”
“Mars.”
“Mars?”
“You address me as Mars.” he commanded, crossing his arms, the corner of his lip curling up as you searched for the right response, but quickly falling as you suppressed the desire to sneer and merely adjusted yourself to the pesky, petty demands. You had met worse, much worse than the urban chic version of hierarchy and names. Mars was something you could deal with easily enough, and gave you a lot more insight than Seonghwa could imagine.
“Mars, care to show me your bike?”
“Mm.  Follow me, Y/N.” he emphasised your name, as if the fact that you did not have a title nor a nickname gave him some odd power trip - to be frank, it would not be surprising if this actually was the case.
As you followed him out to the front, you noticed his gait was ever so slightly out of balance, a miniscule limp, likely following an injury. Again, something so common with your customers, but made you soften up the tiniest bit - in some senses Seonghwa reminded you of a wild animal that was pretending to be strong. Frustrating, yes, but he was out there trying his best to survive in the way that he knew and could. Much like everybody else, including yourself. You kept your gaze trained on the man’s back as you walked on until you very quickly found yourself right in front of the beast whose roar you had heard from all that distance away. You broke into a full grin, making Seonghwa’s brows knit together as he became perplexed. As it turned out, your prediction was more than right, and before you was a gorgeous, sleek, though having seen some battles, Suzuki Hayabusa. Customised, adored and kept pristine from what you could see. The damage that the motorised excellence had sustained looked to be new, perhaps even acquired a mere couple of hours ago, but other than that the steed was the closest you had seen to true love in Night City. It was clear that despite Seonghwa offering not the best impression, the bike told a different story, and as you crouched down to briefly inspect it at proximity, you nearly gasped. Each valve, each tiny detail was treated with kindness and affection, as if this man spent every spare moment only caring for it. The paint did made you want to giggle, however. Aside from the signature hanja for peregrine falcon, purposefully highlighted with neat strokes of paint to highlight the engineering finesse and power contained in the supreme machine, the motorcycle was completed in a dual tone, with the majority of the body done in a midnight black, and the detailing and smaller body components being done in a copper orange - stunning complement to the outfit of the rider, a full unit of owner and two-wheeler. One body, one mind. If you could start your first impression here, your thoughts of Seonghwa would be a lot more friendly, you determined. But that was the beauty of being a mechanic, you got to know people a lot closer, in secret, unknown to them. This man had a soul on fire. A soul he was attempting to hide, a soul that manifested itself in one of the fastest production motorcycles. And a soul that most certainly knew what was wrong with its metal body - the diagnoses were pleasantly accurate.
“What are you smiling for?”
“Hm, let’s get this beauty in the garage, yeah?” 
He obliged, but still did not let you touch the vehicle as he pushed it along until you told him where to leave it. Occupying an old armchair right by the platform where you fixed the bike in place, Seonghwa watched your every move, scrutinised you as you started your work on the Busa, impatient. It was customary for the bikers that came to OC to remain here like a spouse waiting for their loved one to come out of surgery, but his predator-like focus was beginning to get unsettling and ruined your concentration. You could not speak to the bike in front of you, you could not gain its trust while its owner was staring you down like you were about to tear everything apart and turn the motorcycle into scraps. Letting a tool fall onto the mat that you had rolled down on the floor, you raised your head an deadpanned to the man, catching him off-guard:
“It’ll be three hours since I expect you want the guard done up all pretty. Get me jjajangmyeon from the place down the street and I might speed it up to your optimistic two.”
Yunho’s guffaw resonated across the shop as he heard your statement and imagined the shocked look on Seonghwa’s face upon receiving the daring request. Indeed, the man was more than taken aback, curious as to how important you deemed yourself to talk to him in such style. But at the same time, it was beyond amusing. The cheek, the attitude behind a cold and monotone sentence was alluring. There was something more to you than what Yunho had proposed, and that was reassuring. Perhaps you did have the right energy to find common ground with his priceless Suzuki. Still, the first word to escape him as he recoiled from the jab was an airy question of:
“What?” quickly countered with:
“They do late night deals. Half price. If you get there within the next half hour that is. Get Yunho and yourself a bowl while you’re at it and I’ll get the job done to fit your busy schedule and be enviable.”
“Boss, are you hungry?” you called out to Yunho, who was still giggling from under the vehicle, making it appear as if the car itself was caught in a comedy.
“Aye.”
“Done then, Mars, would you be a dear and do an orbit there and back?” you could not stop yourself from bringing his chosen, given or acquired through a brutal climb name into the mix. The opportunity was just too much of a low hanging fruit to not take it.
You were playing with fire, that much was certain. You could tell that he was contemplating putting you on a hitlist; not something that you were not used to, seeing as you were still in a client-facing role even if a lot of your time was spent with silent steely beauties. But you took a risk with Seonghwa, you ceased to be careful, spurred on by the euphoric prospect of treating the customised, souped up and customised Hayabusa, and took a shot in the dark with your forwardness. As the blood that was pumping in your ears got louder with every passing moment, and you began to doubt whether this was the right call to make to get some along time with the steed, Seonghwa stirred after his ponderings. Rising from the armchair, the chains that adorned his neck glinting under the lights, he stretched more for show than for comfort and exhaled through his nose, suppressing a chuckle.
“Ask for jjamppong on top of that and I will snap your arms in half.”
“You are too kind.”  catching him mid turn, you responded, making him look back, and give you a playful, mischievous glance over his shoulder, almost boyish, as if the two of you were good friends that were used to the banter.
Releasing a breath that you did not realise you had been holding after the man disappeared from view, you returned to the Suzuki that was gracing your vision. Yunho’s laughter had subsided, and once again the buzz of the lights was the only thing that was between you and total silence. Diving into your work, you read the story etched into the curves, the miniscule dents, the scratches that were invisible to the naked eye but still there, hinting at just how much the bike and, evidently, the rider went through. The fixes were going to be complicated, but nothing that you could not do with what you had in the shop. You rested a hand on the engine, thinking of your next move, and of the dark glimmering orbs of the biker whose soul was still right here with you, watching, inspecting, but attempting, bit by bit, to trust that you would do the mechanical masterpiece justice. Of course you would, you were getting a late dinner for it after all. Besides, it was easy to love such a stunning bike, especially when you could see that it was truly loved by its owner. A soft smile on your face, you leaned forward and got back to dismantling a broken detail from the main body, already excited for the inner workings you would see behind it; the closest thing to true light that one could get in the sadistic, somnolent city of neon and night.
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After the first appointment came another, and another, and more after that. The Busa almost became your personal project as what had previously been menial tasks carried out by an amateur mechanic and devilish rider, now fell to you. You knew this motorcycle better than you knew all of your tattoos, that much you were sure of. From the piping to the seating to the turbocharger you had installed, it was clear enough that Seonghwa was more than willing to let you tinker with the bike as much as he wanted you too, which with every unscheduled drop in became longer and longer. At times, Yunho would be there to participate in some idle chatter, other times, it was merely you and him on your own, either in a perfect stillness, with only the bike making the music and talking for you both, or with the occasional question thrown in either direction. 
You had found out bit by bit that Seonghwa was, as you had assumed, a member of the Blue Birds - the local crew of vigilantes, from what your boss and your ghost of a boss had told you. Brutal and unforgiving, they had taken it upon themselves to maintain something of an order in the district, though you never asked for the details on how exactly they did it. You had learned over your lifetime to ask less, unless it was about mechanics; that was always a safe bet, and a point that you would always return to if you felt the conversation going into a direction that you did not wish to explore. All other inquiries normally answered themselves from what you noticed - for instance, the limp was now gone, to be replaced by rather grim looking knuckles. But again, no comment from you. It was above your pay grade. Seonghwa, at some point, had also caught onto your avoidance and tendency to cling onto bikes for conversation, but had taken it upon himself to probe further and further through what you considered to be a strong enough barrier, to figure out why exactly was one of your tattoos on the right forearm a mark that he had avoided at all costs when he was still a youngster back in the place he used to go home, many kilometres away, now reachable through highways to hell. He could not ask directly, not when you could clog up his air filters or ruin the braking system right then and there, but curiosity was getting the better of him as the weeks turned into months, and you were doing your regular check up on the Busa.
“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”
“Why the sudden question?”
“Why answer a question with a question?”
“Hm… yours is pretty good.” you tried to brush his inquiry away, even though your mind instantly went to the answer, and remained stuck. You could hear the engine resonate in your chest, and could feel the handles in your palms, as you gripped onto them, tighter, tighter and turned. The feeling of a machine coming to life right beneath you, ready to race into the darkness and obey your every instruction. Turn after turn after turn. Somewhere along that race, you lost your soul, and longed for it. Blinking slowly, you hoped that Seonghwa would leave the conversation where it was, but knew that he was going to do everything except that.
“No but really. Every mechanic, every biker has their favourites. Hell, even Yunho has one and he doesn’t really work on them anymore.” leaning forward to rest his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow positioned itself on his right thigh, he focused on your response, down to the body language and each one of your cells could feel it.
“Hard to pick.” Again, vague, but you wanted to get away, hide yourself. The sensation of the brakes, how the loyal companion to your every conquest could glide across the streets and halt just when you wanted it to, make impossible turns and let you caress the ground through thick gloves that have seen the wildest tricks and fastest getaways… it was all far too vivid. Too much for you to bring up while you were trying to work. Swallowing your spit, you shook your head slightly as Seonghwa commented that you were not responding to him.
“What do you want me to say?”
“What you are thinking about.”
“And what am I thinking about?” abandoning the Busa, you gave the body a wipe with towel and dropped it to the floor, raising yourself up you fell onto the spinny stool, and eyed Seonghwa right back, despising the smirk that was threatening to break out on his lips that were far to soft and lush for a damn outlaw.
“The bike. Your bike. You used to ride, didn’t you?”
“...Hm.”
“I can feel it. No need to pretend.” he had already formed his suspicions. In fact, he had put two and two together a long enough time ago. All he needed was a confirmation, a mention of that same bike that he had heard of, a name to a face that had haunted him for as long as he was leading the Blue Birds.
“Yeah. I did. Not anymore though.” your voice grew colder, dismissive as you turned to look out at the neon lights. A flicker caught your attention - the sign for the Japanese restaurant that opened and closed only when the owner wanted to was caught in a starlike sparkling, the fluctuating light making it seem as though the luminescence was alive. Alive. Curious choice of words.
“What was it?”
“It?”
“Let’s start with the bike.”
“Is this an interrogation?”
“Just curious, no biggie.”
Afraid of what you could say if you were to dive into elaborating your memories and sentimentality, you stood up and walked to the work bench, retrieving the component that you had brought with you to the city, and kept it with you at all times. Giving it one last look, you strode over to an expectant and enthusiastic Seonghwa, motioning for him to stretch out his hands. As you watched him inspect the item, turning it and checking each nook and cranny, your heart felt heavy. Was it really that long since the brake pedal was attached to the swift stunner? A glorious ink black, with piping of the skeleton completed in a vibrant poisonous green. A nightmare. Your love, your priceless dream.
“A Kawasaki?” he whispered half to himself. So it was how he had indeed attempted to predict.
“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”
“Two hundred and twenty-eight kilowatts without ram-air?”
“I played around with that.”
“Sure you did. Wow. Really that’s pretty.”
“Mhm.” you took the brake pedal from Seonghwa’s hands, returning it back to the drawer. 
Suddenly, it all felt too real. The last moments raw, the feeling that the motorcycle was still with you, still outside, parked and patiently waiting for you, was too clear in your head that you had attempted to train to believe that that stage in your life was over. Done. Finished. You had crossed the metaphorical finish line and that was all there was to it. But Seonghwa was not letting up, instead choosing to dig into the wound and watch as blood began to trickle.
“Now that explains it.”
“What?” you knew you were going to regret asking, but did so still.
“The tattoo.”
“What tattoo?” your eyes narrowed as you propped yourself against the bench and crossed your arms.
“The one on your arm. The right one.” he pointed as if he just won a game of spot the difference, leaving you irritated.
“What of it? I have many.”
“Not one that belongs to the Black Pirates. I am no fool, Y/N. I’ve seen the mark before and truthfully, I am surprised you are still alive.”
“I am too.” you huffed, finding your boots to be awfully interesting.
“Sacrificed the bike?”
You did not answer. You did not want to answer because it was clear that Seonghwa could answer the question for you. And for that, you loathed him in that given moment, despite overall finding his company to be almost comforting in recent weeks. In reality, the Kawasaki saved you from utter demise. Sliding on its side across the highway at record speed, sparks flying in the air and the screeching penetrating through your helmet to embed itself into your bones, the bike made it seem as though you were truly done for when, as luck would have it, you had gotten away with only a few scratches and a lot of foliage clinging to the torn up leather you had worn. As you had made your leap off the out of control beauty, the hero fighting its last battle it collided with cement to split and crumble into smithereens, the fuel tank pierced and beginning to seep out the fluid. A couple of gunshots later, and the bike was caught aflame, and all you could see from the group below where you had fallen, was the occasional licks, smoke and more sparks, your soul departing the metal body. The brake pedal, by some odd circumstance, had flown off and landed in your direction, nearly crashing into your visor. You had cradled it in your hands, sliding down on your back further and further to the moist earth beneath the highway until you were totally concealed from all viewpoints, hidden by pillars and rusted armature. When you were sure that those who you had called family, called friends, called comrades sped away, confident that you were there splattered on the cement and roasting, thanks to the bag that had been left on the seats serving practically as a dummy, you had begun to weep, never knowing for what, but certain that you were not yourself anymore. You had died.
Unbeknownst to you, as your vision blurred and mist settled to accompany the rising melancholia, Seonghwa had risen from the armchair and cautiously stepped closer and closer to you, until he was barely an arm’s reach away. Gaze drifting, you only took notice of the change when the knuckles came into view. Those bruised, bloodied knuckles, obviously treated by a person who knew nothing about caring for themselves. Silly man. A silly, silly man who wanted to put up a front; a front that might just have been yours, and your family’s ruin.
“Hey, are you-”
“No.” you retorted before he could accentuate what you deemed to be your weakness. Pushing yourself off the bench you were about to make a beeline for somewhere, anywhere, make up and excuse, but felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. Shocked, you stilled yourself and attempted to tug, only feeling the grip getting stronger until Seonghwa pulled you towards him, so that you would be face to face.
“I-... I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts and-”
“Do you?” cold, you hissed.
“...I can see it. I am sorry for your loss. And I am sorry for making you relive it.”
A smile, ones that graced those who had little to lose and little to wish for except perhaps a restart as another person, in another body, in another time and life, melted over you as you tested the strength of Seonghwa’s hold another time. Not budging. You did not dare to check his expression, for you knew that it would make you crack. 
“Do you need any-”
“One more word and I will snap your arms in half.” recalling your first meeting, you muttered the empty threat.
“You are too kind.” he echoed, deliberating whether to give himself up to the urge and pull you closer. 
So it was you who he had heard about after all. The demon on the roads, Icarus who had gotten too close to the sun of power, and was violently shoved from the pedestal of grace and familial leadership into the torment, into the abyss, stripped of all you knew and had. He had learned about you through fable-like gossip that his childhood friend, who caught up with the wrong crowd and became a member of the Black Pirates had shared over a couple of drinks when Seonghwa had visited. Same night he had shared that he wanted to leave, but as it had turned out, he was someone not quite lucky to make an escape and someone who Seonghwa was meant to forget. But besides the passing of another, someone who he could not save even though he tried, never did he think that the beast on the Kawasaki would be you. The you that he had come to know. The sensitive, albeit snarky and strong-headed you. The you who was a gifted mechanic, a woman who breathed the craft, the art, the science, the life that was that of a biker. Never before did he see anyone treat the Busa with such respect, nor make such accurate guesses about the fights and chases that it had participated in. Looking back, it should have been obvious that you had a history. You knew more than you ever let on. Perhaps you knew Seonghwa like he knew the streets of Night City, and now, your true past.
“The… yeah the Hayabusa’s done. By the way.” you tried to veer the conversation away, and fortunately this time, Seonghwa agreed. 
“Thank you.”
“Standard rate.”
“Yep.”
“Everything is sort-”
“May I-”
You shot him an aggressive, piercing gaze, threatened by the change in tone. Far from his usual upbeat lilt, it was deeper, slower, sticky and sweet like molasses and you did not want to get pulled in. You clambered for air, for any relief away from his man, the man who had so openly shared his soul with you. He stammered and cleared his throat, finally letting go of your wrist. The sharp change in temperature was nearly unwelcome as the ghost of his soft fingers remained, caressing your flesh.
“Would you want to join a patrol now?” the inquiry, hanging in the air, dangling like a treat as the adrenaline rushed across your body. You had to feel guilty, surely, after having mourned the loss of your beloved Kawasaki and just revisited its final minutes, you had no right to be looking forward to another rush. You did not need it. You should not need it nor want it. And yet, you found yourself nodding almost immediately, much to Seonghwa’s delight. A reassuring warm hand on your upper arm, a lean forward letting Seonghwa catch your glossy eyes, him asking when you can close up shop and you mumbling that you were done for the day, or night. It was alway nighttime. The soothing blanket of navy blue, sleepy over the streets that you were about to explore under Seonghwa’s guidance. 
As the dark haired man settle on the bike and appeared to adjust his wristwatch, holding his helmet while you found a spare displayed on one of the shelves - showed marks of wear and tear but good enough for a couple rides more, he felt his heartbeat turn erratic, and what was normally a bearable thrum turn into an erratic, unbelievable pace that only amplified in his skull and quickened once your arms were wrapped around his torso, holding onto him, your body pressed against his. If there was ever a hazard on the road for him, it was this. Your intoxicating closeness that made him want to ride forever more, never stopping if that meant that you could stay exactly where you were. How you were. It was surreal that the rider, the legend that he had grown to respect from the tales, was the woman that he had now grown to love.
As he sped down the streets, the neon had shone down on you in different colours, a bolder, more optimistic palette that made you beam right back. You clutched onto Seonghwa’s leather jacket, seeking more support as the exhilaration began to overwhelm you. It had been far too long since the last time you felt the wind hit you in this way, you felt the engine rushing you on between the trees of the concrete jungle, the windows and doors, the stray passers-by zooming right past you as the bike accelerated. It was not the same, of course, nothing could ever be, but the feeling, that distant feeling and warm memory was enough to remind you that you indeed were alive and you had the future to look to. A future that Seonghwa wanted to help you find. Hugging him tighter, you let yourself be carried away from the shop you closed up, away from the pleasant routine you had aimed to settle into all the way towards a moment of freedom and that familiar rush.
When you arrived at the destination, which turned out to be an abandoned parking lot under an equally barren road, illuminated only by a single streetlight with two bulbs, you noticed that there were a few people already gathered, including some familiar faces who were chatting away while wheeling their rides out of what you would describe as some concealed warehouse into better starting positions. Feeling a wave of shyness, you did not move as Seonghwa stopped the bike and stretched his legs out to balance it. Only after you sense more movement, and approaching footsteps did your arms snake away on their own accord and tug at your helmet. The man seemed to sense this since, as soon as his own helmet was off, he turned to you to whisper a quick “you okay?”. You feebly nodded, and found the ground with your military-style boots. 
Quickly enough, a man approached Seonghwa, and the two exchanged a handshake and a couple of words. You recognised him fast enough - while he had not come to the shop nearly enough to be considered a regular, and judging from how heavily modded his MV Agusta Rush was it was clear that he preferred to do most, if not all repairs himself, Yeosang was a memorable figure. His hair, approaching shoulder length, and the long black and red leather jacket with cutouts that flowed behind him as he hit top speed made him stand out to you, and his endearing disposition and innate warmth as he discussed all matters within your comfort made him something of a friend. He waved to you, excited that you had decided to join the patrol, agreeing with Seonghwa that it was an honour to see you on the urban tracks. You bit your lower lip, wondering just how far word about you had travelled after your supposed passing, and whether this word would travel right back down to the south again after your impulsive appearance right here, among the Blue Birds.
“So you riding with us? Right?” Yeosang finally addressed you, his voice jolting you out of your musings. 
“I suppose so,” after giving Seonghwa one final look and receiving a reassuring smile, you responded.
“Great, then, follow me.” As Yeosang spun on his heel and led you towards the warehouse, you let yourself wonder out loud.
“Were you all waiting for me or something?”
“Well, yes and no. We’ve heard stories, then Mars has really taken to you and well, that comes with a lot of getting to know you, and then Yunho shared a couple things-”
“What in the-”
“Don’t be too surprised. We keep our tabs on everyone. Just in case.” he chuckled and elaborated on the miniature dossier that had accumulated - he was not going to rat out the fact that it was mainly his leader not realising that he was discussing you at longer time periods than was customary for a standard biker and mechanic relationship.
“Guess I’m a bit rusty in that department.” you pondered the networks, the informers that had existed back in your town, and how sometimes you even had to ‘do some less than appealing kinds of convincing’ to get updates, but shook the image away as you entered the dimly lit warehouse.
“Let’s hope you aren’t when it comes to riding.” You stood back, letting Yeosang turn on another lamp, something probably found in a trash pile but still functional enough to be a source of illumination, only to reveal a breath-taking beauty. 
“Now, of course it isn’t the Kawasaki,” Yeosang paused, patting the seat of the black and red motorcycle that you could sense was studying you, checking if you were strong enough to handle it, “but it is still quite impressive. Aprilia RSV4-”
“1100 Factory. Grunty engine, sweet chassis. Good engineering.”
“You can say that again. Here, give it a try.”
You stepped towards the breathing machine. The beast in slumber, awaiting a boost, a nudge awake and it was ready to roar and leave all those in this lot behind. It was a captivating system of mechanisms, all working in unison to create what was going to be a revival for you. A revival on the road. As you sat down on the bike, feeling its energy ooze through you and appreciating its almost youthful vigour, your mind traversed its maze-like avenues back to the Kawasaki. This was far from your precious. Far from who you had been. Far from the soul that you had lost back then. Gorgeous, without a doubt, an astounding piece of work that the streets would be grateful for gracing them, but that was how you had to treat it. As much as a part of you desired a renaissance, that same thrill, it was obviously unachievable. Nothing was the same, nor could be, including you. The place where the tattoo of the Black Pirates still decorated your skin ached with dull throbs as you leaned forward and tested your movements, your fluidity with the motorcycle. This was going to do; this had to do for that one last thrill before you could say goodbye to the dream of re-experience - the final nail in the coffin of a phantom that had you delusionally hoping for that sense of belonging and sense of being undefeatable to return to you. The Aprilia was the Aprilia, and you were you. The need for speed, the desire to rule the roads and exist in discord and chaos had died with the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, and the you now was searching for peace. The peace that you could read in Seonghwa’s eyes. The peace that he was offering in the form of unconditional support, in the form of pieces of his own soul to ignite the one you were patiently cultivating in your hollow chest. To let the blaze warm you, nurture the affection you yearned for, and let you breathe again. You gripped the handles of the bike, and turned on the ignition, casting a permission-seeking side glance to Yeosang, who merely nodded. As it rolled out of position and you flipped the foot that anchored it in balance, and let yourself be regarded by Seonghwa and his fellow bikers, the revelation finally came, that this was the new life that you had hoped for. The life that you had wanted to experience, not a reworking, but a clean slate. A new home that you hoped to discover in Night City.
Once everyone was in position, and Yeosang gave you a helmet that was fitted with a communication system that let the Blue Birds converse while on patrol, you followed Seonghwa out, having been given a designated position and role in the formation. It felt like the old times, but in reverse. Instead of organising havoc, the group was organising peace. Instead of planning heists, the group was hoping to stop crime that happened under the noses of those who purposefully disregarded it, focusing on new age delinquency that manifested itself as banal expression and creativity. The city was different now, it had to be. Suddenly, you were astounded and amazed by it, by the intricacies of every corner, the affection with which the citizens of the sector had decorated their storefronts and windows, even though if a government-arranged bust was to be organised, and the forces, nicknamed the Guardians were to march down these streets, these homes would be the first to be annihilated. Risking their own lives these marvellous people decided to spread joy and share colour. There was hope in Night City, there was hope in this district where the desire to live and thrive could not be put out. 
Blue, purple, magenta, pink, orange, yellow, red, green, purest white and inkiest black, every shade and every saturation was jumping out at you even through the visor. You felt at ease, one with your surroundings as Seonghwa’s soothing voice issued the final command before the group were to split, leaving you, Seonghwa and Yeosang alone and zooming down the central street, empty from the lack of business after a particularly nasty raid. You noted remnants of shattered glass and a charcoal black storefront, one of the downsides of living in an area where law was more questionable than local dealings. But even then, you felt more alive than before. 
“How are you feeling, Red?” a nickname thought of on the spot for ease of callouts thanks to the accents on the Aprilia.
“Good, Mars.”
“Good?” Yeosang echoed, and you could swear you heard an amused giggle from his mic.
“Very good, Greece,” you would never not be amused with the choice of name for your friend, the word ‘sculpture’, to highlight his heavenly visuals, had apparently been deemed too long to work.
Seonghwa could hear the joy in your voice, stronger than he had ever experienced it before, even when you joked around with him or revealed to him a particularly high quality part that Jongho had produced by some unmentionable connections. Previously, there had been barriers that you had accumulated with each season of your new existence, hardened by your trials and tribulations as a person who technically was not supposed to exist. Less talk, more business. Less emotion, more control over your behaviour, your being in the effort of maintaining an image of strength, much like he had done when he had first met you.
When Seonghwa had first laid eyes on you, you seemed to be the closest thing there was to a human version of ice. You appeared to be dismissive and disinterested in him, in what he could bring, and that was vexing. He, as Mars of the Blue Bird gang, had gotten used to have the room freeze as he walked in, only to combust into hot flames an instant after, but definitely not come face to face with someone who was sombre, and with their lack of a reaction made Seonghwa feel as though, in reality, he was not that important. He had made a promise to himself after finding out about the Kawasaki rider of the Black Pirates, that if there was anyone he would listen to and learn from, it would be them. From the technique to the daredevil spirit, that was the kind of rider he had always wanted to be. At the same time, as days turned to weeks turned to months, and the image of you and the rider became one in his mind, Seonghwa came to understand that truly, the rider was an illusion. A fantasy that he had built in his mind that could not compare to the wise woman that had transformed his Hayabusa, and his own heart. He wanted to learn you, and learn anything else with you. And to hear the spark within you, to feel your passion for finding yourself begin to return to you was the final sign that he needed to fully comprehend what he had been searching for. For that smile to never leave your face, for him to bring you food just because, for you to be side by side in this race against harsh reality, fighting the odds and making it through to a land where there was true light, away from the land of neon farce.
As you sped down the neverending roads, checking each turn and alleyway for activity, an odd trepidation crept into your chest, and fluttered like a moth fighting for its spot on a bulb. The same feeling as when you had been out with your so-called crew, checking the outskirts of your hometown that fateful night. Your inner alarm rolled out of a restless sleep, and began to clang against your brain, once, twice more and more until it became unbearable and you cried out for the group to stop. The unexpected call startled the duo, and they barely had time to process the action as the three of you instinctively skid to a halt, leaving hot trailmarks on the road. A hum. An unsettling hum that came before a certain ruin spread across your surroundings, and you took off your helmet to tune into it in an attempt to decipher anything at all. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed suit, perplexed, contemplating you as you darted from one side to the other turning your head and getting a grasp of what could be the source of the thrum. A revving. A sickening revving in the far distance, picked up by you as you whispered to your team.
“You hear that?”
“Hear what?” Yeosang asked back, running a hand through his hair.
“The hum.”
“Hum?”
“Where are we right now?”
“Southernmost district, kind of outside of Night City, but still our area.” Seonghwa responded promptly, alerted by your concern.
“We need to leave.”
“But the patrol-” Yeosang tried to argue, but you cut him off.
“Now. We need to leave now.”
“Why?”
The engines became even louder, and if you were not going to move now, you would never move again. 
“Surveillance Point South, Guardians Helmets on, MOVE!” you commanded, disregarding any hint of formality as you shoved the helmet back onto your head and twisted the bike to go back. The men followed suit, and in good time, as in one of your mirrors, you saw the first flash of white appear from around the corner.
“GO!”
Bless technology, bless the engineers who crafted these magnificent motorcycles; you were praying and praising every person who had ever contributed to the creation of these beauties, these roaring urban animals as you accelerated to top speed in seconds and swerved down a random street, one that you had no clue where it led to. Calming yourself to the level where you were able to ask a question, you hurriedly shouted into the mic:
“Mars!”
“Turn right at the end, Greece flanks on the left.”
“Gotcha chief.”
“Update on tail?” You continued as the initial wave of automatic movements subsided, and in came the need for fast, adaptive strategy. You were not about to make the same mistakes again. This could not happen. You had to trust yourself, trust Seonghwa and Yeosang. They should not suffer the same way you had done. Ever.
“Five Guardians. Gear - standard. They were not expecting us.” Yeosang communicated back, pressing himself into the motorcycle as the three of you sped down the street only to burst into another and swerve to the appointed direction.
“Well that’s a plus,” you huffed and accelerated more after completing the dangerously sharp turn. The Guardians were quick to repeat the motion, and were aggressively catching up to your trio.
“There’s a highway under construction, we can lose them there.” Seonghwa offered, clearly disturbed by the closeness of the forces, practically breathing down his neck.
“How far?”
“How fast can you go?”
“Lead.” a quick ‘yes’ in agreement, and Seonghwa issued an order:
“Greece, split on the fork and find Crow. If you get a tail then spiral the shit out of them.”
“Aye.”
“Good luck.” With one last wish, serving as a hopefully temporary farewell, Yeosang rolled away his own response blending into static as the connection grew weaker, only to fully break:
“Good lu-”
And just like that, it was you, Seonghwa, and four remaining Guardians, who evidently had decided that Yeosang was not their main target, leaving only one to tail him. You cursed under your breath, and clearly the mic was a lot more sensitive than you had initially expected, because as soon as the utterance left your mouth Seonghwa’s voice reverberated against your eardrums.
“Just a bit more, okay? Trust me we’ll get there-”
A gunshot stops the man mid-sentence, and you blindly followed him as he countersteered to make another sharp turn into a much more narrow street, forcing the group of four to slow down considerably and giving you an extra few valuable seconds. 
“Are guns part of standard gear?” Shocked by the similarity between the gang you had been part of and your present followers, you managed to ask.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Well isn’t this a fun time.”
“Glad you are enjoying it. Turn in five then turn left.”
Before you knew it, you were entering the meandering manoeuvre from street to alley to a series of pedestrian passageways, fully expecting Seonghwa to still be by your side, but as you entered another road, zooming ahead, you took note that your partner was nowhere to be seen, along with another two Guardians. The ones behind you, thanks to the maze of stairs and tight spots down the path he had directed you through, the Guardians were trailing behind, the distance having grown to a more secure one, at least until you felt the bike, which you were not totally used to, hit a pothole on the road and start to wobble, forcing you to overreact - counterintuitive to any professional behaviour. Your yelps finally made Seonghwa return through the speakers asking as to what exactly happened. To the best of your ability you choked out the cause of your surprise, while loosening your grip and regaining at least some control by slowly rolling off the throttle.
“I leave you for one second and that happens?”
“Last time I was alone and being chased I-”
“Did not have me, to your left-” As you had balanced yourself out and returned to breaking any speed limit imaginable, you noted the familiar black and orange Hayabusa merge into the lane to your left, followed by one Guardian.
“Where is their friend?”
“Took an arrow to the knee,” out of the corner of your visor’s allowable view, you saw Seonghwa accelerate until he was a little in the front and he waved what could only be a particularly menacing pistol.
“That is one hell of a bow.” You pondered when and where  he could have produced a gun from, and finally realised why most of the time he kept his jacket zipped up unless he was off vigilante duty.
As you approached the winding highways-to-be, you swore you were barely breathing. With only three Guardians remaining on your tail it should be easier, an escape should feel closer, but you could not settle into any form of focus, instead only speeding towards an oblivion. Another one, your final one. The fear that you had been living with, the repetition that you had wrongfully longed for, was it about to happen? You fell quiet as you saw the road curve higher and higher to another level, and followed its flow. Seonghwa let you flow forwards, turning back to return the gunfire that the white-clad spawns of the so-called law restarted, missing one by a few centimetres, but in this way forcing them to enter the same state from which you recovered. Luckily, they did not have as reflexive of a control over the vehicle, and toppled to veer and hit one of the borders, denting it and giving up the chase. Two to go.
Entranced by the openness of the location, you raised your head to find a night sky, clearer than the one you were used to back in Night City. It was similar to the countryside around your hometown, how the stars came around to glint and help you recollect your thoughts by emphasising that everything on this earth, compared to the infinite expanse of the universe, was small enough to brush off. It had always made you feel briefly light, relieved, free. How you wished you could fly-
“Ready to fly?”
“Literally?” you cried out, returning back to the matter at hand.
“I sure hope you remember how to recover from a high jump on a bike because that is our only chance.”
“What the-”
“Three.”
“Two.
“One.”
“May the suspension system be ever in our favour,” you muttered, embracing the oncoming drop as you avoided the cones that marked the end of the construction zone and led into a drop onto the highway below.
Your mind cleared, and you focused on the head level balance point in front of you, which just so happened to be the straight line of the horizon. Your body moved back to ease the weight on the front end, and as you saw the drop come into view, raised yourself up on the foot pegs and pushed with all your might, bending your legs into the motion as you felt the suspension respond to you and compress before rising again. Instantaneously, you blipped the throttle, giving the Aprilia that final burst, propelling you and lifting you right when the front wheel hit the jumping point you had marked out. Keeping your head up, you let yourself feel the arc that you made together with the bike, eagerly watched your surroundings blur as you continued your calculated fall, and giggled as you heard Seonghwa let out a loud proclamation of “awesome!” as you landed the jump and remained fully in control of the temperamental steed. 
The Guardians had stopped themselves before the leap, clearly not having the borderline death-seeking move programmed into their ridiculous training schemes, nor into their own obedient, law-abiding cells. With the southernmost district, and as such, the Guardian patrol point long behind you, it was now a matter of finding a place to slow down and figure out a safe way home. You laughed airily as the adrenaline egged you on, making you feel like you could take on the entire world, your gang of traitors and snakes, and the masked tyrants that had been chasing you and all that you considered valuable in your new chapter. You survived. Finally, you survived. 
When the empty highway hinted at an exit on the other side, in unspoken agreement the two of you hopped the inexistent border between lanes and swerved into the turn, re-entering the city from a different angle, fully avoiding the southern district. As neon began to occupy your vision once more, the lines of blue, purple, magenta starting to line the streets of your home, you let out a sigh of relief, coming down from the rush of a good chase. As soon as the two of you ensured that there was no hint of Guardians in your vicinity, Seonghwa signalled for you to slow down and stop in a secluded square that was located between the outstretched segments of an abandoned residential block, the doors taped shut with signs proclaiming ‘demolition’ plastered over fading graffiti. 
Hopping off his bike and leaving the helmet and gloves on the seat, he rushed to help you out, the exhaustion from diving headfirst into something that had not been in your active arsenal for a while. Wobbly legs, dizziness and an urge to listen to gravity for once nearly had you stumbling off the bike and onto the cracked pavement, if not for the strong arms, stabilising you by positioning themselves at your waist, and bringing you flush against Seonghwa’s toned body. Through the haze of a numbing fatigue, you could finally make out the slightest tang of gun smoke, blending with an aroma of a sweet perfume, pronounced as he had burned up from the prolonged pressure and thrill. Smoke and vanilla. And you were alive to take it all in. You raised your arms, searching for him, trying to feel out an anchor in the renaissance, clamber out of the ashes that were still coating you in a weight of a past that you had now shed. Fingers flittering across the black tank top, left exposed as he had unzipped the jacket, travelled around his sides to find his lower back and hook themselves together. You let yourself be consumed by the feeling of safety, the feeling of having overcome yourself and finding someone, the one person who was ready to pick you up again. Your body shook as a sob that you were unknowingly holding back flew from your now light heart and into the omniscient night, but all you could feel was warmth. A reliable embrace that was going nowhere, a man who knew who you were, who you had been, and let you decide for yourself who you wanted to become-
“Mars-” you mumbled, pressing your face into Seonghwa in an attempt to let the fabric swallow your emotion.
“-Seonghwa.”
“Huh?” you wanted to look at him, at his dark eyes that held the sky, the universe within them, but the soothing circles that he was drawing on your back as he began to rock gently while keeping you in his arms made you remain in the same position, right against him. With him.
“Seonghwa. Hwa. Whatever nickname you think of but… just. Seonghwa, Y/N. Call me Seonghwa.” you chuckled through the tears that started to decorate your cheeks, earning a confused hum from the biker.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Cheeky.”
“At least we are not threatening each other with grievous bodily harm anymore.” you tried to squeeze him in a way to emphasise your joke, but earned a surprised pained yelp from the man, followed by a pursing of the lips as you darted to face him. 
“Seonghwa?” it was obvious that the new address made him soften considerably, but your worry did not subside. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing really, regular st-”
“Where, Seonghwa, where?” you used his own name against him, forgetting your own overwhelmed state and turning your attention to him.
He was entranced by the way your eyes glistened in the darkness, how the tears that stained your cheeks were only adding to your image. Nothing would make him look differently at you. Nothing ever. And if he had to race against time itself to be able to hold onto you like this, he would do it. He would fight all of the Guardians and Black Pirates combined if it meant that you could smile. You needed to smile. He tried to ease the concern, but the wound that he had acquired during the chase was becoming nearly unbearable. Instead of fighting you, he tilted his head to his left and lifted his arm while keeping the other on your waist. Getting the hint, you flipped the bottom of the cropped jacket and gasped as you saw torn material, reddened, irritated skin, and a mixture of coagulated and still-trickling blood concentrated around where what could only be a bullet grazed Seonghwa’s stunning, tanned skin. 
“What the- and you are just here? Standing? You need treatment, stat!” admonishing his self-disregard, you leaned to inspect the wound more closely, only to have Seonghwa attempt to flip the jacket back and dig his fingers into your side.
“I am fine, I swear-”
“Do you know anyone who can fix this?” not quite in the know of any medical terms, you resorted to treating the wound as though it was a damaged component, except a lot more distressing, and obviously causing a lot more lateral harm than any scratch or even piercing tear could to cold metal. 
“...Not really, no,” after a long pause, he responded. Lowering his arm, Seonghwa returned to his previous hold, except this time, moving until his face was only centimetres away from yours.
“Well then, you know me, I have a first aid kit at my cave.” your voice quivered as you at the man before you. You could tell, he was new too, also reborn from the chaos. Neither of you could predict, but it was obvious that now, that light that you had been chasing was within reach.
“So you can fix bikes and people?”
“Bikes, yes. People? Not really. But I would like for you to see another day please.
“It really isn’t that bad.”
“Then why are you in pain?”
“Because I have been staring at your lips for the past minute and still have not kissed you.”
You blinked once, twice as whatever words were in your throat remained there and fell right back down to be set on fire by what you could only describe as the blowing of multiple fuses. You were not quite sure when the two of you managed to lean so impossibly close to one another, but your arms were fully relaxed, having succumbed to the sensation of his hands dancing across your hips testing the waters, and your vision was occupied by Seonghwa, and Seonghwa alone. His gaze, once again, trailed down from your eyes down to your lips, slow, confident alluring. Ignoring whatever pain he was experiencing, dulling it with a different, more tantalising ache. With your breathing growing more shallow by the second, you were not sure what to expect of Seonghwa in this instant; perhaps more accurately, you were terrified of how this would change your new life. He was taking his time as though he was reading a book, trying to decipher what you were feeling, and while he was more than ready to lean in an destroy what was left of the gap between you, your swift hands that wiped what remained of the moisture on your cheeks and a playful smirk on your lips forced him into a childish pout.
“And you won’t, unless you let me patch you up.”
“And I can kiss you after?”
“...Deal.” to hell with it all, you continued soundlessly.
As rapidly as the moment had developed, it ceased to persist, with Seonghwa detangling himself from you and telling you to grab your helmet while pressing a couple of buttons that were concealed on his wristwatch.
“What about the bike?”
“Yeo will sort out the bike. I just pinged him with the coordinates.”
“You have a spy watch?” amazed, you exclaimed.
“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”
“I need to speak to the engineers in your circle, I need to absorb some skills from them.”
“I can see you’ll be speaking to Yeo more and more soon, then. He is quite the techy guy.”
As you were about to hop onto the bike, you thought once more about the injury, and tapped the already seated Seonghwa on the shoulder. Flipping open his visor, the man moved his chin forward, prompting you to go on.
“Scooch back.”
“But I can-”
“No buts. You are injured, and this is a hazard,” receiving a groan in response, you refused to pause, “besides, I can’t exactly hold on to you now, can I?” 
That seemed to do the trick as the previously proud, arrogant man obeyed your command and slid away from the handlebar, but as soon as you were in position, revealed that potentially, it was not you winning here as he relished in the opportunity to embrace you for the entire trip back to OC, occasionally distracting you by letting his hands roam your torso, leaving you dangerously close to pulling over. But you had enough experience of being stoic, and Seonghwa still had much to learn about you, so you kept a steady speed, and greeted the luminescence of your neighbourhood with a relaxed rumble of the Hayabusa.
-
As you turned on the lights to your studio apartment and the two of you took off your shoes, you sped away to find the green case of health and all things that you were technically not supposed to have in your possession but did anyways. Funnily enough, Seonghwa’s comment had not been too far from the truth; back when you had been in the Black Pirates, a mechanic was fully expected to patch the customers up, as well as the bike, considering that both were normally against the law and had to remain undercover. Even when in certain districts the gang did bribe their way up to have a hand in decision-making, thus making it possible for the members to receive regular treatment, many had gotten used to the quick and easy drive-by healings, and would always choose to trust the person who gave life to their motorcycles over even the most qualified, certified doctor. Such was the rhythm that you had fallen into, the one that transitioned into the you in Night City through a library of skills and odd habits - like keeping the first aid kit right below the sink, the logic being that one could grab the kit, wash their hands and be ready for war, equipped with antiseptic and a plethora of improvisation techniques made up on the spot. 
With Seonghwa settled on one of the foldable chairs that you kept to the side for when you wanted to sit while eating instead of leaning over the kitchen counter, you took the other, placed it right in front of the tired man and got to work. Carefully guiding his arms out of the leather jacket, you were left with a far too attractive biker, clad in only a black tank top and the ridiculously expensive chains, and the leather trousers that tightened around his legs as he wriggled a little and took a more comfortable position to sit. The earring with the feather right at the end still dangled in his ear, and his hair, ruffled but retaining some shape thanks to what you thought to be humble use of a styling gel. You needed to avoid his eyes at all costs, the burning eyes that were trained on you, and only you. It did not take an expert to guess what Seonghwa was replaying in his mind the entire time that you were around him. As you lifted the tank top and inspected what was now a dried up mass over a graze, you sighed with relief.
“Good news.”
“Good?” Seonghwa asked back, suspiciously out of breath.
“Yeah. Now, I can’t check for internal bleeding, but outwardly, this is easy enough. Seems that you got really lucky. Very. Over the top kind of lucky actually. Can’t say the same for the jacket though, but at least you are not a wine barrel.”
“Charming.”
“I’ll just clean the thing and put a big bandage on it so that it won’t get infected. I fear that most of the pain is from these old injuries though…” you absent-mindedly traced some of the hematomas, which, judging by their colouration, were well on their way to dissolving into a smoothness, with your fingertips, making the man tense up. He turned his head towards you, glancing back and forth as you inspected the collage of injuries that he had collected on his body.
“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”
“Fighters need holidays too.”
“Right.”
“You need to park yourself in a garage and give your engine a nice break…” you joked, more to yourself as you turned to bring the green case to your lap for easier searching, keeping one hand in place to hold the cotton top up, until the finger grew tired, “hey could you be a darling and hold your own shirt for me? Cheers.”
Seonghwa jumped into action, enjoying the soft speech, and replaced your hand with his, the digits ever so slightly brushing against one another as he moved to hold onto the material.
“You are in luck.”
“Is that so? Even more than over the top?” ignoring his interjection, you continued:
“Uh-huh. I have hydrocolloid bandages left. This one’s actually barely noticeable, but works like a charm with weeping wounds so, get your flesh over here and you’ll be patched up in no time.” turning, he repositioned himself to allow you to clean the cut, removing some of the attached fabric that had dried with the first droplets, and leaving the redness exposed to the disinfectants, and to the patch. In no time at all, your work was done. Satisfied, you grabbed a tissue out of the packet that was sitting in the kit and cleaned the ointment and adhesive that stuck to you.
“I’m afraid I can’t help with the clothes though. Not my area of expertise.”
“You did more than enough, Y/N. And all this after racing through and out of Night City from five Guardians on a totally new bike.”
“I am a woman of many talents.”
“That’s true…” that honey-sweet, deep voice, slowing into a sultry beckoning as Seonghwa’s hand moved to rest on your knee. A man on a mission after all. You chuckled and snapped the first aid kit shut, easily sauntering from his approaches and enjoying every minute. 
“You want hot chocolate?” you asked over your shoulder as you stashed the case back under the sink and shut the cupboard. Nothing was stopping you from being a good host to a very good person. Even though it was rather apparent that Seonghwa was eyeing something else on the menu, the sound of a sweet treat was rather appealing. You were right about him faking drinking coffee after all.
“Yes please.”
As you moved about the kitchen, fetching the cylindrical jar of chocolate powder and getting the coffee machine started for your own beverage of choice, Seonghwa moved to reposition the chairs closer to a table that bore the appearance of an ironing board squashed against the wall until he pulled it down and pushed the two legs at the free end out. Patiently, he admired your studio apartment, your corner of the city that was situated right above the shop. The walls were bare, only decorated with old holes from nails and with the odd scratch here and there. Minimal furniture, with the large dresser probably being donated to you by Yunho. The neatly made bed which judging by the headboard and armrests was also a small sofa, located right beside the window that was covered by wooden blinds roughly painted an off-white, was probably the newest addition to the metres of this room. Undoubtedly, the piece of furniture was acquired after you had moved here, after you had made your bosses certain that you were here to stay. And Seonghwa was going to make sure of it. Night City was now to be your new home, and when you tapped the table to alert him of the hot beverage that you had prepared, now ready and billowing steam out of the mug right in front of him, he revered how beautiful you looked, surrounded by the mechanic shop, by the streets of the district, by the city that he had despised for so long but the one that had helped him find you through mysterious serendipity.
"Thank you." he took a cautious sip, sighing in elation.
"No problem. I'll pretend that chocolate helps with internal bruising and call myself a doctor." You commented while settling beside the vigilante, making him smile.
“How’d you guess I would not want coffee?” you glanced over at your companion while taking a tentative sip once the initial temperature shock had subsided.
“You never order it.”
“But I never-”
“I think we have spent enough time together to know the basics, right?” A bolder swig, and you could feel the caffeine begin to hit your system like a nitro boost.
“Well I seem to be discovering more and more things about you every second, Y/N.”
“And how are you finding it?” you took the quietness as a chance to test him. It was barely a test, but nevertheless, too important to dismiss. The small questions, ones said in passing and ones to be forgotten were almost always the ones that were to be the most important.
“I want to learn more and more, since I simply cannot get enough.”
Momentarily bashful, you looked at the floor and thought of the garage beneath your feet. The place where you had initially determined that this same man who was now unbelievably bold in his expression of his feelings for you was to be your sworn enemy. How times changed, for the better. Regardless of the twists and turns, the ups and downs, even in the deepest night there was a light to find, and a light that was meant to be yours. This new life was your light, and Seonghwa wanted to be part of it. You grinned at the thought, and finally met Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, fuelled by care, by determination, by the vision of a future.
“You know, I think I thought of a nickname for you, Seonghwa.”
“Oh?” he set down his mug, mirroring you.
“Yeah. I think I’ll call you mine.” you stood up, knowingly ambling to the light switch, listening to the biker following suit.
“Watch out, I might just marry you on the spot if you keep that up.”
“Well, I am not your bride but you may kiss me.”
“Y/N, you are too addictive, and will make me lose my mind.”
“Well then, are you mine?”
“In every lifetime I am yours.”
Enveloped in a new night, illuminated only by the colours that seeped through the half open blinds you ceased to think and rationalise, giving yourself up to instinct as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, twisting you from the wall, coaxing you closer to him, towards his warmth, his heart right there for you to take. It was easy to oblige and you pinched the material of his tank top, prompting him to step even closer, sure that he was practically beaming into the kiss as he nudged himself forward, lifting your head up just a little to prolong the contact. It was as though he was certain that if you were to break apart from one another, you would disappear. He wanted more, needed more. Digits tracing abstract shapes on your back, running through your hair, Seonghwa wanted to remember every detail. Just as he had said, he wanted to learn every part of you.
Lost in paradise, the kiss was electric. A hand that found itself toying with his chains, and proceeding to snake up the back of his neck to tug on his hair just enough to make him shakily exhale made Seonghwa switch his gears. A previous tentativeness, a tender exploration turned into an urgency as his tongue flicked against your lower lip begging for entrance, which you were more than eager to give. You sighed into the passionate call for more that left you breathless. And yet, in these seconds turned into an unprecedented timelessness, if you had to give up every life-saving molecule for even a fraction of nearly impossible unity, you would do it in a heartbeat. The sensation was as though you had finally woken up from a deep slumber, dragged from the somnolent abyss, and every vibration in the air was resonating with you, resonating with Seonghwa. 
You felt drunk, dizzy as you guided Seonghwa to the bed, having very quickly memorised the layout of your tiny apartment to the point where you could move around even if there was not a single source of light. In a passionate blur your top was left by the chairs, while your trousers found their place right in front of the bed, together with Seonghwa’s tank top. With every flame that crossed between you, you laid yourself bare to one another, honest and open, and the vulnerability, intimacy you let yourself indulge in marked another beginning. As your nude bodies laid down onto the dark grey sheets, the both of you fervent for more but aware of the importance of honouring every step, Seonghwa suggested, feeling his side remind him of his injury:
“I think you’re going to have to take the lead here, Y/N, I’m a little bruised up.”
“Of course,” you leaned in for another kiss, smiling at the sweetness, “You ready?”
“More than.”
Seonghwa leaned against the pillows and headboard, devoured by lust as you moved further and further down until you reached his exposed member, leaking precum, hard, pleading for you to give it at least some attention. Testing the waters, you languidly rubbed the tip with your thumb in circles coating it in the translucent liquid and making Seonghwa breathe as though there was not enough oxygen. One glance back and you were in awe of the beauty before you. Eyes shut, reddened lips slightly parted, head tilted back as if he was caught in a divine act. The light from the street outside made him look all the more ethereal, and his skin, now an indescribably stunning collage of hues that had crept through the blinds, was a masterpiece that you wanted to honour with your love. As your teasing progressed into a gentle pumping, first of the tip and then with your hand sliding down the entire length, only to stop and give extra care to the base of the member, a low groan reached you - a melody that only encouraged you. Heat pooled to your core as you continued to elicit a string of indecipherable mumbles, a deep moan, and the most magnificent expressions from the man who had never thought you would even cross paths with again. How foolish you had been, masking Seonghwa’s stunning presence, response to your every action, and his eagerness to please you by whispering praises for how good you were making him feel, how amazing you looked and were, and how he was so grateful. Your prior ignorance was almost impossible to even consider now, as you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his dick, adding more lubrication and letting you increase the speed. The wanton sounds of your hand pumping Seonghwa’s throbbing cock, blended with the breaths turning shallow, any moan coming out airy, barely there, were filling you with your own desire, and your free hand quickly moved between your legs, fingers gliding along the folds, finding them to be slick, soaking, needy. You began to run your digits over your now wet clit, rolling over the nub painfully slow in a weak attempt to prevent yourself from cumming too soon, but what used to be a hint of a high only accelerated to a knot at the bottom of your stomach, pulsating and begging for fullness. With how Seonghwa’s hips began to buck up, oblivious to the bruises, the wounds that ghosted and adorned his body, you needed him.
“Hwa…”
“Mmh- yes?”
“May I… ride you?” Through phrases broken up by your choice to quicken the pace of your hand, abusing your clit until a trembling sensation spread over your legs in anticipation of an orgasm, you voiced your desire.
“Please- Y/N I- yes-” equally as shattered, Seonghwa was barely able to respond, moaning as you gave him a chance to recover ever so slightly, letting his member spring free, but more desperate than before for stimulation.
“Do you have condoms?”
“Back pocket, trousers, wallet.” he sighed, pointing at the discarded article at the foot of the bed.
“How’d you even get it in this Sector?” you asked, fishing the item out of his wallet, tearing the packaging and crawling back to unroll it.
“Con… tra… band,” he enunciated through your swift actions, biting his lower lip as he felt your heat press against him, your hand guiding the cock between your folds as you rocked back and forth.
“Vigilantes indeed. Protecting in all kinds of ways.”
“Are you kidding me?” Seonghwa groaned at the sorry attempt of a joke, his mind conflicted between the humour and the unbearable closeness of your pussy, lined up against his tip.
“I’m not the one smuggling condoms, though I have nothing to say but thank you, darling.”
Lowering yourself onto the member, bit by bit until he bottomed out inside you, you leaned forward, consumed by the euphoric feeling. Seonghwa took this as a chance to caress the side of your face, draw a line against your jaw and lead you towards him with soft fingers under your chin. Placing one kiss, another on your lips, and peppering your cheeks and nose with loving pecks, he encouraged you. He wanted to ensure that you felt loved, and only loved. When you began to move, hands finding the headboard for better balance and as a security measure so that you would not hurt Seonghwa, his gaze stayed on your face, bearing witness to the single most gorgeous view of his mortality. 
He gave himself up to you, something that he would have never imagined, but something that felt so right that he was terrified of thinking how his life would be had he never met you. Seonghwa let you control the pace, and when your walls tightened around his dick with your climax fast-approaching, did nothing to stop you, deny you of the ecstasy, much to his own fortune, for the cries of his name as you reached your high and rode it out, leading him to his own heavenly demise were now permanently etched into his brain. Never before did anything of his sound so captivating. Never before did he think that he could see a light in this dark city, in his dark path. But there she was, an angel in his arms, falling forwards, a barely noticeable shake still over taking her as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your lustful fever accentuated by the coolness of the metal necklaces. Seonghwa kissed your cheek once again, then your forehead and the crown of your head, thanking you, adoring you, and as the minutes ticked past, finding his footing in the post-coital bliss, and nudging for you to clean up with him, so the oasis you had created in your four walls could last longer, and you could drift into the sunniest dreams in each other’s embrace.
As you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, flushed from the shower and changed into an oversized t-shirt, his leg lazily thrown over yours and breath tickling your exposed skin, you felt even more alive. As he pulled you closer to him, and with the hand that was fully on the other side of you reached out to rest his palm on the back of yours, and let your fingers intertwine, you let yourself fall into a serenity that you had never known, and listened to his heartbeat through the tee you had given him, a rhythm that you never wanted to forget, a soul that helped yours truly come back from a place of no return. Seonghwa traced the tattoos on your skin, whispering about their marvel, their story, pointing out his favourites, the details that put every piece together into one flowing design. He repeated, again and again, his adoration for you, kissing your earlobe only to say it once more, accompanied by his favourite sound: the syllables that made up your name. In rare moments like this, everything felt easy, within reach. In this time and space that existed after a revival, a self-discovery and a promise of a new beginning, you were ready to take the scenic route.
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“Hwa, could you pass me the C-spanner?”
“Ah, the mechanic’s scythe, sure thing.” you rolled your eyes and grinned, accepting the tool from Seonghwa’s outstretched hand. You were working on a swanky new Yamaha that had been added to the general Blue Bird collection after a certain Aprilia had been turned into scraps in the name of security. Not that you knew anything though - after all that was not you, and you did not exist at all in the databases of the Guardians, having flown under the radar thanks to some quick camera wipes, and security checks around Night City. Your new beginning was greeting you with open arms.
As you adjusted the pre-load on the rear shock absorbers, Seonghwa noticed something that reminded him of cling film peeking out from under your sleeve and letting his curiosity get the better of him, inched towards you, around the bike and giving you barely a second to register his intentions, poked at the plastic.
“What’s that, love?”
“A little upgrade.” you smiled to yourself and continued to make adjustments to the energetic beast.
“A tattoo?” he inquired, taking the c-spanner from your hand and laying it down on the ground. You spun on your old stool to face him.
“Mhm…”
“Show me?”
“I don’t know… probably won’t be clear enough through the film and I don’t want to ruin it so…”
“C’mon Y/N, weren’t you gushing about it to me just yesterday? How Seonghwa would adore it and-”
“Don’t sell me out, bossman.” you retorted, faking a glare at Yunho who was in the depths of a discussion about component orders with Jongho and evidently, was getting more and more bored.
“And focus on the papers, Yunho.” the latter rapid-fired after you, making Yunho groan and shift his attention away.
“So?” Seonghwa nudged your foot with his, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clearly, whatever tailor he knew in this city was a magic person, because even months after the turning point in your identity, a switch in time that let you open your eyes to a beautiful new world, the beloved biker pseudo-uniform in black and orange hues was pristine, seamless, bearing no signs of any gunshots, nor of any tears nor grazes.
You stood up, and cautiously rolled up your sleeve to reveal a transparent bandage that covered your fresh ink. Another restart, another call for a new step in the form of a single blue feather, with a stunning gradient and black detailing. As Seonghwa peered at the design, open-mouthed and silent before nearly squeezing the air out of you as he hugged you as tightly as he possibly could and spun you around, you blinked away the last of your doubts that had been stuck to you from before the fateful arrival to Night City. In the most unexpected places, surrounded by the most unexpected people, time was finally on your side, and let you slowly but surely take steps towards the you that you were happy being. The you that was loved and could love. The you that turned a fresh new leaf, and was more alive than ever.
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bloodynereid · 1 year
Text
Rulebreaker
pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem!reader
a/n: there is a criminally low amount of warren fics and daisy jones & the six fics in general so I'm trying to rectify that. also I listened to the Aurora album on repeat when writing this so if you haven't listened to it already go do that. requests are open for all characters if you want to send anything in. i also love chatting with all of you so send in ur opinions or thoughts :)
tw: mentions of period typical misogyny, cigarette smoking, swearing
description: the night you met warren rojas, all of your rules fly out of the window.
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Y/N: Being a female producer in the 70s was… how to put it delicately… absolute shit. But I tried my best. I had a list of rules to live by: don’t date anyone related to my job, never stay later than 7pm, always have more than one person in the room with you and never drink on the job. Not even coffee. I broke most of those rules the night I met Warren Rojas.
It was 9pm (rule break #1) and you had just finished mixing one of the last songs for an album you were going to show George tomorrow. You were about to head home with a cup of coffee (rule break #2) you had snatched from the snack room when suddenly one of the doors to the recording rooms slammed open and a whole gang of people poured out. The noise had startled you so much that the cup in your hand sloshed and hotstingburnoww the liquid fell onto your hand.
“Shit!” You had realized in the last moment that your little expletive caught the attention of the last people milling out, a curly haired guy and one of best known producers of the time, Teddy Price, otherwise known as your mentor. “Oh hey Teddy.”
“Y/N! I don’t think I’ve seen you here this late before.”
“Just had to finish mixing a song you know me.”
“Oh I do. That’s why it’s surprising.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and then looked over to the man standing next to him.
“Who’s the new band? Haven't seen them around here before.”
“The Six. This is Warren Rojas, their drummer. This is Y/N L/N, she’s one of the best producers out there.”
“You flatter me too much. It’s nice to meet you, Warren.”
“You too.”
“Either of you need a ride? I’m heading out soon.”
“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just go with the band.”
“Yeah I’ve got my bike.”
“You parked close?” Teddy asked with his usual protective tone.
“Just a 5 minute walk.”
“I would walk you but I’ve got to finish looking over some tapes.”
“I’m heading the same way. We can go over together.”
“You sure?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee.
“Yeah, I’m sure the band can wait.”
“Great. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
“Bye Teddy.”
“See you.” 
You and Warren set off to navigate through the maze of recording rooms and offices. (rule break #3) He had lit up a cigarette and when he offered you one, you graciously took it, throwing out the finished coffee cup.
“So if you don’t mind me asking. Why do you call yourselves the Six if there’s only 5 of you?” Warren laughed and looked at you with a smile.
“I honestly have no idea. Something about there already being too many iconic bands with the number five in them.”
“Right well, I can’t be one to judge anyway, I can't even sing.” 
“I can’t either so I think we’re on the same playing field here.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder. So he was funny on top of being ridiculously attractive.
“So how did you get into producing?” And he wasn’t being a anti-feminist asshole, unlike SO MANY people in this industry.
“Well I liked music and I would record demos for my brothers when I could. It was honestly just pure luck. I met Teddy when I was interviewing to be a secretary here. He taught me some of the ropes and then persuaded the big bosses to hire me. I really only produce for smaller names but… it’s my passion, you know.”
“As part of a smaller name, we appreciate your help.” He said with a mischievous smile whilst wiggling his eyebrows.
“Oh shush. So I guess now it’s only fair to ask how you got into The Six?”
“Well, Graham got us into this band when we were like 14 and then he persuaded his brother, Billy, to join. Then some random dude convinced us to head out here and try our luck with Teddy Price so here I am. We actually used to be called The Dunne Brothers and then we changed it for some reason, I think we all collectively decided against that name one night at a diner.”
“Well if you’re getting produced by Teddy then you have to have at least a modicum of talent.”
“Don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”
“Take it as you want.” His eyes flickered under the streetlights as you made your way out onto the street. Warren Rojas has a majestic quality to him and well, he was also nice and exactly your type. Okay so maybe rule number #1 was meant to be broken.
“Warren! Hurry up man or we’re leaving without you.” A man yelled from one of the parked vans. He was leaning out of the window and pushing on the car horn.
“Well it seems my luck is still going strong cause that’s my bike.” You point at the black motorcycle that is parked next to the colorful van. He sent you a beaming smile as you both wandered over to where your separate vehicles lay.
“So will I be seeing you again?”
“We work in the same building so probably.”
“You know what I mean.” I stamped out the cigarette and winked at him.
“I might come around to see how you sound tomorrow.”
“I’ll be sure to be playing the drums to the best of my ability.”
“I'm sure you’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” You smirked at him as swung your jean clad leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key in the ignition.
“Warren!”
“Yeah yeah, one second. Give me your arm.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you’re really pretty and I want to give you my number.”
“How do you know I’ll use it?”
“I’m taking a gamble.”
“It seems like you take a lot of those.” 
You held out your arm anyways and let him scribble down his number in black ink. Your helmet went over your head after he finished and you looked down at the list of numbers with a little heart next to them. So he was a sap as well.
“I’ll be seeing you, Warren Rojas.”
“I sure hope so, Y/N L/N.” You smiled and gave him a little wave before revving off. But not before you heard a last: “Warren! What the hell man I’m starving over here.” Which made you chuckle.
Y/N: I ended up going to that recording session the next day. And the next and the next. Teddy even let me mix a few of the songs. I also wrote down his number immediately after I got home. I’m pretty sure I still have the receipt where it’s written on somewhere. Anyways I ended up breaking that first rule after the tour. Warren asked me out when we were surfing. Actually I was surfing and Warren was trying to. God that was a beautiful day.
Warren: The sun was just about to set and I had given up trying to surf so Y/N and I were just sitting on our boards watching the sky turn different colors. We had been friends since that night Teddy introduced us and I was obviously attracted to her. But it was then when I realized I was in love with her. I ended up asking her to marry me at that exact same spot a few years later.
Y/N: I immediately said yes, both times. Warren and I just work. He is like a part of me I can’t bear the thought of losing.
Warren: I love her with my entire self and more. I can’t see my life any other way. I think one of the greatest things that came out of the band was not just the music but it also led me to my soulmate.
Y/N: Rule breaking is really one of the best things I could have done. I met my other half and worked with people I would consider my family. Sometimes plans just aren’t meant to be followed.
Y/N Rojas is one of the top producers in the music industry. She shared producer credits with Teddy Price on Aurora and has gone on to produce some of the biggest names in the 80s and 90s. Currently she lives on a houseboat with her husband, Warren, the former drummer of Daisy Jones & The Six and their twins, Teddy and Karen. She owns a music label (Reconstitution Records) which will be producing the newest album of the reunited band, Daisy Jones & The Six.
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hopefully I did Warren justice cause it's my first time writing for him
taglist: (lmk if you want to be added to the warren taglist or general daisy jones & six taglist)
@pinkdaiisies @just1riqht
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flightlessangelwings · 8 months
Text
Mando M.C.
Biker!Din Djarin x fem!reader Word count- 6.1k Prompts- AU fic, hurt/comfort, “Do you trust me?” “You can’t go until I tell you” “I can’t stop thinking about you” Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), biker au, hurt/comfort, pining, feelings, protective!Din, attempted kidnapping, nondescript violence, minor character death, reader is a sex worker and uses “Amarilis” as a fake name (it’s explicitly said so), same no removing helmet rules, no use of y/n Notes- Written for @pedrostories 1k celebration, congrats you guys y’all deserve it!! The fake name "Amarilis" is a nod to my good friend @olliwan-kenobi  own biker!Din au which I have a cameo in under that name, so it's something special to me! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I just can never get enough of biker au's!! And we respect sex workers in this house (and so does Din and the rest of the Mandos)!! Enjoy!! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post new fics! Moodboard made by me! The Din vibes in that right pic are immaculate omg!
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~
The roar of the motorcycle echoed in the wind as the Mandalorian drove down the open road. It was a crisp, bright Nevarro day, and the long winding road was the biker’s for the taking. On the sleek black and silver bike, he could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. But right now, there was only one place he wanted to be.
“Welcome back, Mando,” the lady of the house greeted his helmeted form as he stepped through the familiar doors.
“Madame Luna,” he nodded his head in a friendly greeting.
Neither of them knew the other’s true identities; no one used their real names behind the doors of the brothel. Madame Luna, the beautiful, tall and commanding mistress was in charge here, and she always made sure her girls were safe, protected and taken care of. It was the place to be, both as a worker and a client.
“I’m here to see…”
“I know who you’re here to see,” Madame Luna interrupted, “You always see her,” she bat her eyelashes at the leather-clad and helmeted biker, “Are you sure I can’t keep you company today, Mando?”
“I’m sure,” his tone was firm yet kind.
Before either could say anything, your hushed voice came from behind the mistress of the brothel, “Mando…” Although his chapter was well known for never removing their helmets, you recognized his silhouette anywhere.
He turned his helmet towards you and you saw his shoulders visibly relax, “Amarilis.”
No real names.
Mando looked you up and down and his fist involuntarily clenched at the sight of you. You were draped in a black silk robe and you leaned against the frame of the doorway. Like all the others who worked at the brothel, you were styled to perfection to attract those who patronized there, but there was something different about you. Something about your energy that no one else possessed drew Mando in.
“Mando,” you repeated in a more sure tone as you reached your hand out to him, “Follow me.”
Madame Luna smirked as she watched the two of you pass by, “Enjoy yourself, Mando.”
The brothel itself was dimly lit, but clean. It was frequented by many different motorcycle clubs in the area, but it was also a designated neutral space. Even if rivals were seen in the halls, it was a no-violence building. Mando himself was the one who put the deal together so that no one who worked there, no one who wasn’t involved, would ever be caught in any crossfire. 
It kept you safe.
Your hand felt warm in the Mandalorian’s gloved one as you took him into your room. It was simple, yet the space’s purpose was as plain as day. The bed sat on the far end of the small space and it was adorned with silk sheets that matched your robe. A small dresser sat on the other end, and he knew what the drawers held. Light in the room was minimal, yet it was just enough to highlight your silhouette. With the door closed and locked, you let go of his hand and looked him up and down as you fiddled with the sash of your robe.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been by, Din,” your voice was soft as your robe opened to reveal nothing but tiny lace black panties underneath, “Everything ok?”
Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he took off his gloves, the only piece of clothing that he ever removed, “Fine,” he replied as he reached out and caressed your body gently, “Guild’s been busy lately,” his gruff voice echoed from under his helmet as he felt his pants tighten. No matter how many times he saw you, it was like the first time, and his heart pounded in his chest every time.
“I was worried,” you looked into the darkness that was the visor of his helmet and imagined his eyes looking back at you. You opened your mouth to say something more, but you left it unspoken… I missed you.
Din breathed your real name as he pulled you flush against him, “Are you alright?”
Your smile lit up the room, “I am now,” your voice was raw yet hushed as you backed up both your bodies towards the bed, “But you’re here on business… So let’s get to it,” your tone turned more sultry as you bumped into the bedframe.
A single soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hands ran up and down your slides, memorizing every dip and curve of your body. Your skin warmed as you felt his eyes devour your figure, even if you couldn’t see them. Both of you let out harmonizing groans as Din hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties and coaxed them over your hips and down your legs, dropping down to his knees as he did so.
Din’s eyes landed on your pussy, already wet for him, and he let out a low growl. His eyes ran down the length of your legs as you stepped out of the small piece of fabric. But, as you were about to use your foot to fling them aside, he grabbed your ankle, caressing you as he reached down and picked the panties up off the floor. Without looking, Din tossed them over his shoulder, and you let out a laugh as they landed right on the door handle.
“You know how I like you,” Din purred as he stood and guided your body onto the bed.
You let out another soft chortle before you rolled over onto your stomach, comfortable on the plush bed and silk sheets. You let out a whimper as you felt his calloused hands roam over your back. Din’s touch was always surprisingly tender for how strong and tough a man he was on the outside. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he cupped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, and you heard him groan as he kneaded the soft flesh.
A contented sigh escaped your lips as you buried your face in the sheets and Din positioned himself behind you. You heard the faint sound of his belt clicking and you felt the mattress dip by your legs. Shifting yourself so that your knees propped your ass up a bit, you heard Din let out a low growl as you presented your dripping pussy for him.
“Good girl,” the words slipped out before he would stop himself, but it only turned both of you on more.
“Din…”
He ran his fingers across your folds, savoring the wetness he felt there before he pushed two fingers inside you with little resistance. You moaned into the sheets as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, getting you ready for his cock. Din was always so soft with you, as if he was worried he would break you if he went too hard. You almost would have wanted him to be a little rougher, but you also craved the way he handled you so tenderly.
Din groaned as he pulled his now soaking wet fingers out of you, and if it weren’t for his helmet, he would have licked them clean. But, his aching cock demanded his attention first, and instead he used his slick-coated fingers to pump himself a few times before he lined himself up with your pussy.
Slowly, Din pushed his cock into you, making both of you gasp at the same time. You clutched into the sheets as you felt his thick cock stretch you out inch by delicious inch. And Din could not look away as your pussy lips wrapped around him as he felt your warmth engulf him more and more. It was a connection unlike anything else either of you had felt, yet neither of you spoke the feelings out loud. To both of you, this was just business, At least that was the lie you both told yourselves.
“Fuck,” Din growled as he bottomed out inside of you and leaned forward so that his leather-clad body covered your bare one.
He held onto your hips as he positioned himself to thrust in and out of you. But, Din frowned from under the helmet when you hissed in pain.
“You ok?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” you replied instantly, “Please, keep going.”
Din released his grip so that only his body weight kept you pinned underneath him as he slowly rocked back a bit. Gently, carefully, tenderly, he thrust forward, feeling your tight muscles around him once more. When you only moaned in pleasure, Din kept his slow yet precise pace.
With your face buried in the sheets, Din used the leverage of your back against his helmet to tilt it up just enough so that his lips were exposed, allowing him to place a series of open mouthed kisses on your back. You moaned loudly as you felt the tickle of his little hairs, his soft lips, and the sharp angle of his nose against your bare skin, and it almost made you cum then and there.
“You…” you moaned, “You can go harder… If you want… Din…” you breathed heavily as he thrust into you over and over again.
Din’s cock twitched as you begged for him. And though he never wanted to hurt you, he also couldn’t deny your request. He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around you, propping himself up on his knees so he would pound into you harder. As he adjusted your bodies, his helmet slid back down, covering his face entirely once more. 
You cried out in pleasure as you suddenly found yourself in Din’s lap, his cock buried even deeper inside you at his new angle, as his arms held you firmly against his chest. With the new angle, your moans echoed freely in the room as he thrust into you harder and faster. And all you could do was hold on to him whenever you could grasp. 
And you loved it.
Skin slapped against skin as groaned from both of you filled the room. Din kept his grip on you tight, yet not painful. And he was careful, even lost in his bliss, not to grab onto your hip where it caused you pain. As he thrust into you at his new angle, Din again used your shoulder to push his helmet up enough to free his lips so he could nibble on your skin. It was the closest he would get to kissing you.
“Fuck… Din… I’m…”
He moved his hand and rubbed at your clit, and he growled when he felt your inner muscles clench around his cock, “Cum for me, mesh’la…”
The room spun and you saw stars as your climax hit hard. You felt so wonderfully helpless in his arms as he pounded into you over and over again, hitting your sweet spot with precision. You moaned his name as a string of curses flowed from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock.
Din loved to make you cum. Feeling you fall apart in his arms, knowing how vulnerable you were in that moment, and seeing how beautiful you looked, turned him on like nothing else. And as he held you tightly in your high, Din’s own climax soon followed and he bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself deep inside you.
Once both of you were spent, Din rolled your bodies forward and you both collapsed onto the bed. His helmet dropped back down as your body bounced on the mattress while his own stayed over on shaky arms. Heavy breaths filled the room as neither of you moved for several long moments. You lied on your stomach, your eyes closed in contentment as you caught your breath and tried to calm your pounding heartbeat. 
It was Din who broke the silence as he cupped the side of your face, “You ok?” he asked in a raspy voice.
You grinned before you opened your eyes, “Never better,” you replied as you finally opened your eyes and were met with his familiar figure hovering over you. Having never seen his face, you imagined what he looked like under the helmet. You imagined soft eyes and a kind smile. And something in you said that his eyes were brown. You had caught a slight glimpse of his hair a few times when he obviously needed it cut, and your heart fluttered at the thought of being able to run your fingers through those soft brown waves that stuck out from under his helmet.
Unaware of your internal conflict, Din extended a hand to help you up, and both of you almost gasped as a jolt pulsed through your connected hands. He cleared his throat though, and bent down and picked up your robe before he stood and strode over to the door where your discarded panties lay. You slipped your robe over your shoulders and held it closed as you watched his fingers nimbly slide them off the handle.
You studied the broadness of his back, covered completely by the leather jacket of his motorcycle club. On the back was a large skull, the Mythosaur, with the words “Mandalorian Motorcycle Club” around it. On his shoulder, Din had a patch with a mudhorn- his personal emblem. From being with Mandos from other chapters who did remove their helmets and jackets, you guessed he had both tattooed on his body. You were sure he had other tattoos as well, but the only one you ever saw was the little bullseye on his hand.
As Din turned back to you, instead of handing your panties back like you expected, he let out a mischievous exhale and balled them up before stuffing them in his leather jacket pocket. You practically saw the smirk that laid hidden behind the visor from the way his breath hitched. 
You smirked, “I usually charge extra for that you know,” your tone was playful. Another Mandalorian, who always dressed in blue and silver and had a very handsome face, a sexy accent, and flirty demeanor, was actually one of your best customers in that regard.
“I know,” Din’s voice matched yours in friskiness. And you could tell he smiled back at you with a little gleam in his eye. Without another word, he came back and settled on the bed next to you, and you were sure your heart would burst from your chest as you listened to the sound of his breathing from under his helmet. 
“I always look forward to your visits, Din,” you broke the silence with a light tone.
He let out a single amused huff, I do too…
Silence once again came over the two of you as you sat side by side on the bed. Your eyes looked around the room as you suddenly felt nervous at his side. The roughness of his leather jacket rubbed against your skin, yet it was a feeling you craved. Ever since the first time he came to you, there was something about Din that made him different from anyone else. You even trusted him enough with your real name, and he did the same.
That had to mean something, right?
“So…” you cleared your throat, “How’s Grogu?”
That made Din let out an amused chuckle, “That kid is gonna eat me out of house and home,” he laughed softly, “But he’s good. The covert is watching him right now.”
You sat in a comfortable silence before you burst into laughter.
“What is it?” Din asked, secretly savoring the sound of your laugh.
“Nothing,” you covered your face, “It’s just…” you tried to calm yourself before you continued, “I was just thinking about the first time you came here,” you snorted, “In all my years of working here, I’d never seen a man come by with his kid before.”
Din let out an amused huff, “Ok, yeah laugh it up.” But, he also couldn’t help but remember that day too. He was on the hunt for a bounty, and Grogu stayed with him in a little sidecar that Din had made for him. He had come by looking for information, and you were the one who had what he needed. Din was taken with you from the moment he laid eye on you, and he made a silent promise to return without the kid to see you more. And it was a promise he kept over and over again.
“No, no,” you waved your hands, “I didn’t mean anything by it,” you rested your hand on his knee, “I just mean you’re different… In a good way.”
“Thanks,” he huffed as his heart pounded in his chest from the way you held onto his leg.
After a few moments of calm silence, you spoke up again, “I have to say, Din,” you chuckled, “Your MC sounds more like a family than any other group that’s ever come around here.”
Din turned to you but said nothing.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you raised your hands in defense, “It’s just funny how a group of bikers who have a reputation for never showing their faces and being the toughest out there are actually the easiest to get along with.”
Many members of Din’s covert came by this brothel, and he was sure that others he knew had also been with you. He wasn’t jealous, though, even if he wanted to be. He had to claim to you, and you were both free to do what you wanted and needed when the other wasn’t around. This was your job after all, just like he had his line of work. Din was only concerned for your safety, that was all. And at least he knew the other’s in his covert would treat you well. 
“That really big guy had been here a few times actually,” you continued, “He wears blue…”
Din nodded, knowing you meant Paz.
“Want to know a secret?” you leaned in with a grin on your face, “He puts on a big macho guy act… But he’s even gentler than you,” you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which Din joined in, “Please don’t tell anyone though. He would kill me!”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Din promised. Although it amused him to be privy to that information. As the laughter died down, though, Din turned more serious, “There is something I do need,” he said plainly.
“There always is,” you sighed as you turned to face him, “Who is the unlucky bastard this time?”
It was what brought him to you in the first place. Being the most sought after brothel in Nevarro, many came by here looking for the same thing Din did. But, it also proved advantageous for his job as a bounty hunter, and the two of you struck a deal that you would help him find his targets in exchange for a cut.
Din pulled out a photo and handed it to you, and his face morphed into a deep scowl under the helmet when he saw the way your face dropped and a gasp escaped your lips.
“You know him?” he asked in a low tone, “Did he hurt you?” every muscle in his body tensed.
You swallowed hard and nodded, “His group asked for a girl for a party two days ago and it paid well so I volunteered,” your hands trembled as you clenched the photo, “They weren’t too bad, just a little rougher than I expected.”
They just unknowingly signed their death certificates. “Where can I find them?” he growled.
A gasp escaped your lips at his sudden change in tone, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You turned to Din and saw the way his fists clenched and his posture stiffened. You had become good at reading his body language over the time he had been coming to you, and you could tell he was pissed. And yet, it made your heart beat even faster.
Before you answered him, you grabbed his shoulders and straddled his waist, facing him as he remained seated on the bed, “How about another round first,” you purred as you rocked your hips against his and let your robe fall open, “On the house…”
Din groaned as he immediately rested his hands on your hips, careful not to hurt you but still hold you securely, “Yeah?” he asked with an obvious smirk in his tone.
“Yeah,” you whispered as you leaned in closer, your pulse running wild as he rested his helmeted forehead against yours. 
*
It was dark by the time Din reached his destination: a rival MC’s clubhouse. He didn’t tell you the whole story; you didn’t need to know. But, his target, and the others in the group, were part of a new club that had been terrorizing the borders of Nevarro. They were a threat to the Mandalorians, and to everyone who lived closeby, so they had to be taken care of. Quickly and quietly. And being the best at what he did, Din volunteered to be the one to take the job. But, since he found out that they had hurt you too, it suddenly became more personal for him. 
By the looks of the clubhouse, most of the group was there, and they all passed out after another night of heavy partying. Din rode his bike close enough that he would walk towards the dimmed house without being heard or spotted. His breaths came out in short, heavy bursts as he fastened a silencer on his gun and readied himself.
Without a sound, Din made his way through the back doors, taking out the two prospects that slept on the porch on the way. The floors creaked softly as he stepped inside, but he quickly shot three more men who were passed out drunk nearby. He crossed the doorway into another room where he fired on more unsuspecting, sleeping bikers.
But, as he got into the main room, one of them stirred and shouted as he recognized the figure in the shadows as an intruder. The rest of the men who snored on the floors and couches quickly snapped alert and reached for their guns.
“Shit,” Din cursed under his breath as he ducked for cover.
He easily took out two of the five men who fired at him before he ran towards another. Din evaded fire from the drunken men, shooting one of them dead on his way towards his target. With an angry growl, he tackled the man in the photo he showed you to the ground, punching him and nearly knocking him out as they collided with the floor.
“How…” the man wheezed, “How did you find us?”
“A friend,” Din answered in a voice that even he barely recognized, “Someone you hurt… And you will pay for…”
“Fuck,” he coughed as the realization became plain on his face. He didn’t have time to worry about it too long, though, as Din punched him several more times until the red on his face matched the rage that pulsed though Din’s veins.
With a heavy sigh, Din finally leaned back and surveyed the room. Bodies laid scattered all over the place, and the smell already started to invade his senses. But, before he could relax his tense shoulders and call the job done, a gunshot rang through the air, and Din quickly launched himself behind one of the couches for cover.
“You’ll pay for this, Mando!” a voice screamed over another gunshot, “I know there’s only one person who could have told you where to find us,” he sneered darkly as he holstered his gun and ran towards his bike, “I’ll have to pay her a visit…”
“No…” Din breathed as he bolted towards the man who already mounted his bike. Din pulled out his gun and fired several times as he started to ride away, but he missed every time. “Shit,” he spat as his heart pounded in his chest. He ran in the opposite direction toward his own bike parked in the shadows and he prayed to the Maker that he would reach you in time.
*
The sun was just starting to set the next day as you bid farewells to the others inside the brothel and stepped out back. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air as the sun warmed your skin. Turning to lock the door behind you, you faintly heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, but you didn’t think anything of it. Bikers came by almost daily, and you were confident that Din wouldn’t be back so soon. 
Suddenly, a gloved hand clasped over your face, covering your mouth while another strong hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a strong body. You tried to scream, but your cries were muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your struggles were useless since the stranger who grabbed you was bigger and stronger than you.
“You think you can tell your Mando fuckbuddy where to find us and get away with it? Huh?” a familiar voice sneered in your ear, “Well I’m going to make you pay for that, bitch!”
You gasped as you knew that voice: the vice president from the group that Din was after. The same one that you entertained at a party just a few days prior. Realizing just how dire your situation was, you failed your body and tried to fight back. But, he only laughed darkly at your attempts to free yourself.
But, just as quickly as his hands were on you, they were suddenly ripped away and you fell forward towards the door. Turning around, you saw Din’s figure blocking you from your attacker. He acted so fast, pulling out his gun and shooting the man twice in the head without a second thought. You gasped as you saw the blood pool underneath the other biker’s now lifeless body and your eyes went wide. It wasn’t until you heard your name in Din’s comforting voice that you pulled your eyes away.
“Hey,” he cupped your face and guided you to look into his helmet, “Don’t look,” he breathed your name again as he looked you over, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
You looked at Din wide-eyed for several moments before you swallowed hard and shook your head, “No,” you whispered, “I’m… I’m ok… But Din…”
“Listen to me,” the urgency was clear in his voice, “Go back inside and stay there until I come back,” Din tightened his grip on you, “I have to get rid of the body. I’ll be back in one hour. Do not leave until I come for you. Ok?”
You nodded as you trembled in his grip, “Ok.”
Both of you knew why he had to act fast. The truce that Din himself helped to create to make the brothel a safe and neutral zone had just been violated. If anyone were to find out, it could be all out war between the MCs. But, none of that mattered to Din. He would break a thousand truces if it meant keeping you safe. 
So many thoughts ran through your head as you sat inside waiting for Din to return. But, at the same time, the hour went by in an instant and before you knew it, he knocked at your door once more. 
“You alright?” he asked again as he took your hand.
“Yeah…” your voice sounded vacant, as if you weren’t fully there.
“Come with me,” Din helped you up and led you to his bike, “I’m getting you out of here until we know it’s safe again. Here,” he handed you his spare helmet, “I’ll keep you safe.”
Your gaze dropped down to the helmet in his hand and for a moment you felt like you weren’t in your body. But, Din’s words kept you grounded and brought you back, “I know you will,” you replied as you slid it on and got on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.
“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder before he took off.
The wind in your face wasn’t bitter, but calming. With each gust of air, you smelled the scent of his leather jacket and the warmth of his body remained a comfort for you as he drove you far away from the brothel. If it were any other circumstance, the bike ride would have been exhilarating, but the mix of emotions almost drowned out the excitement of finally getting to ride the bike with him. You buried your face in his board shoulder as he revved the bike to go faster down the long, winding road.
“We’re here,” Din shouted over the roar of his bike.
You looked up and saw a small house in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t much to it, but you noticed a small pond in the front and a lot of trees surrounding it. It looked tucked away and hard to find, but it also felt warm and welcoming at the same time.
“Where are we?” you asked as Din helped you slip the helmet off.
“A safe house,” he said plainly as he led you inside. 
Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took in the surroundings. The house wasn’t anything special, just a small kitchen and living space, with doors for a bathroom and 2 small bedrooms. But it felt comforting… and familiar. Not as if you’d been there before, but you knew who it belonged to…
“This is your house isn’t it?” you asked in a breathless tone.
Din turned to you and stared at you for a long moment, “Yeah,” his voice was just as soft, “Grogu likes to play in the pond outside… He’s good at catching frogs,” he tried to lighten the mood a bit. When you looked at him and smiled softly, it made his heart skip a beat.
“It feels like you,” you replied as you wrapped your arms around yourself.
“Are you cold?” Din sounded concerned as he pulled you close and guided you to the couch on the far end of the room.
“No… I’m not sure why I did that.” You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you did the first time you were alone with Din. Before you knew his name, and he knew yours. Something about being in his home made things feel different. You felt safe, that wasn’t the issue. What you weren’t sure about was what this meant for the two of you now. The way he didn’t hesitate to kill a man, to break a truce, to protect you. The way he held you so tenderly and let you into his home. It had to mean something…
“Hey,” Din said your name so sweetly as he cupped your face, “You’re safe here,” the resolve in his voice sent a shiver up your spine as he held you, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
You swallowed hard as you looked at him wide eyed.
Din rubbed his thumb across your cheek as his own heart pounded in his chest, “Do you trust me?”
You looked into the darkness of his helmet and swore you saw his eyes looking back at you, “Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.
He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bandana, something his people always kept in case their helmets came off, and gently rolled it before he brought it up to your eyes and securely fastened it.
“That ok?” his low voice felt louder in your ears as your sight was completely blocked.
“Yeah,” your voice trembled as you sat in the darkness and listened for his next movement.
Din slid his helmet off and set it down with a soft thud. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the soft light that the low sun illuminated the room with as you let out a deep breath. You looked so beautiful in the setting sun, and Din couldn’t help but reach out for you once more, tracing your face with his hands.
You gasped when you felt his breath on your face for the very first time. “Din…” you breathed as you reached out and clung to his leather jacket.
With a low murmur of your name, Din closed the gap between your faces with a deep and passionate kiss. You immediately parted your lips to allow him in, and the taste of his tongue on your made all the emotions you felt bubble to the surface and explode. He groaned into you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible while he explored your mouth. Din swallowed the whimper you let out as he kissed you even harder, allowing the kiss to voice all his unspoken feelings.
But, neither of you could stay locked together forever, and eventually you needed to break away for air. With a gasp, your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you heard Din do the same. Without another word, he grabbed the back of your head and yanked you against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The leather of his jacket engulfed your senses and you rested against Din’s shoulder and settled into his arms.
“Listen… I…” Din started but stopped with a sigh as he struggled to find his words.
“Din?” you tried to push yourself up, but he kept you pinned against his broad, strong body.
“You can’t go until I tell you,” his voice wavered for the first time since you’d known him.
“What is it?” you asked in a whisper as you clung to his jacket.
“I was afraid,” he admitted with a sigh, “I… I didn’t know if I would get to you in time…” It was the first time in a long time something like this happened. The last time Din was this scared, Grogu had been taken to be used against him, and the rage he felt carried him until he got his kid back. It was a similar feeling to today, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel again.
Before you could say anything though, Din continued, “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he brought his thoughts back to the present, “You and Grogu… You’re my world… You’re my everything,” he sighed, “I don’t know what I would do without either of you,” he paused as he felt you tighten your grip on him, “What I’m trying to say is…” Din let out a deep breath, “I love you.”
You choked back a sob as tears filled your eyes and dampened the bandana around your eyes, “Din…” you could’t believe the words you were hearing, but you also didn’t want to pinch yourself if you were dreaming, “I love you too,” you whispered.
Din responded by holding you even tighter, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. Having you here in his home, in his arms, was more than he could ask for. The two of you stayed like that until the sun completely set, leaving the world to be illuminated by the moon instead. And you looked even more beautiful in the light of the moon.
After some time, Din murmured in your ear, “Why don’t we go get the kid and bring him back home?”
“Home…” you echoed with a grin, “I like the sound of that.”
Din smiled against your face, and you felt the muscles in his cheek against yours, “I do too.”
Carefully, he slid his helmet back on and untied the bandana from your eyes, wiping away a stray tear as he did so. You blinked your eyes open and gave him the warmest smile as his hand cupped your jaw once more in his usual affectionate gesture. 
“Want a ride?” he asked with a jovial tone in his voice.
You chuckled, “Yeah.”
Taking his hand, you went back to his bike and this time you both took your time setting onto it. You weren’t in a rush this time, and you could really appreciate the feeling of the motor beneath you and the strong, capable driver in front of you. Wrapping your arms around his waist again, you rested yourself on his shoulder, making yourself comfortable. Din touched the tip of his helmet against yours once before he revved the bike and took off. Together, the two of you flew down the road, towards your future. 
219 notes · View notes
edsloveydove · 2 years
Text
I Have Always Seen You
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pairing: eddie munson x chubby female reader
summary: of course the boy i've known since 3rd grade, the one i've loved since 7th grade, would be the one to break my heart. i never thought he would be the one to fix it too...
warnings: bullying, fatphobia, use of the word pig towards reader once, falling off a bike, blood and cut knee from falling off said bike, self-doubt and sort of self-hate i guess, cursing, mentality that reader wouldn't be 'missed' (idk if thats a warning but just in case), no use of y/n, underage drinking, reader has an older brother for sake of the story (i gave him a really basic/common name), thoughts and flashbacks are in italics!! nickanames/pet names (shortcake, princess, honey, sweetheart), reader is at least a bit shorter than eddie, very poorly edited, talks of the demobats and upside down, again like very badly edited, lemme know if i missed anything, i'm sure i have!
word count: 9k+
notes: my first fic guys and it turned into this 9,000 word monster! wild! anyway, this might be trash i honestly don't know, i have no perception of it, pls let me know what you think!! also, this story is told in first person point of view so it uses 'i, me, myself' and all that, idk how i feel about it though tbh. uuuuh, enjoy!!
DON'T REPOST MY WRITING OR SHARE IT TO OTHER PLATFORMS (including mentioning it in tiktok comment sections and stuff like that pls) THIS IS MY WRITING, DON'T STEAL IT PLEASE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sweltering midwestern heat was hitting Hawkins, Indiana early this year. School had only been out for a few weeks and it was already hot enough to have the city pool passing the max capacity damn near every day. 
Luckily for me, I had been able to successfully avoid going every time my friends have asked me to join them. Until now. 
“C’mon, it’s gonna be so much fun! Steve’s parents are gone again, like usual, so it’ll just be us and a few other friends!” Robin tries to convince me through the phone.  
“Robin, I never believe ‘just us and a few friends’, because it is ne-”
“It’s never just a few friends, I know. But this time it really will be just a few people. Like, actually just a few people. After everything that happened during spring break and all that, Steve really just wants the main guys there. There’s not gonna be any crazy partying, we’re gonna swim and relax, that’s it.”
“I don’t know, I might be busy tomorrow,” I attempt an excuse. 
“Then we’ll move it to when you’re free. We really want you there, you haven’t gone to any of our movie nights or other hangouts yet,” Robin points out while saying my name softly. “Is it something else? Is there someone you don’t want there?” 
Robin isn’t entirely wrong, there is something else that’s keeping me from joining my friends. And technically it does have to do with someone, but not in the way she thinks. And that someone happens to be none other than the Eddie Munson. 
I’ve known Eddie for many years. My older brother was one of his best friends while growing up having met in elementary school. James was in the grade above Eddie, and the one to introduce him to D&D, eventually passing on the title of Hellfire Club President to him as well. I was always in the background, hoping my brother would let me learn how to play just so I could impress him and his friends. 
While they were occupying the basement, getting pizza and bottles of Coke every other Saturday for their stupid role-playing game, I was in my room reading trashy romance novels and out riding my bike to the library in hopes to seem cool when I came back late at night. 
By the time I got to high school, it was James’ second to last year before he went off to college in Chicago on his big-shot football scholarship he managed to snag before he was even a senior. And yes, James was a Hellfire nerd and a star-athlete, so no one messed with their little club while he was there. Eddie was in his sophomore year, already antsy to graduate and move on to greater things. 
I was just the outcast that didn’t even have a group. It didn’t matter that I was the captain of the football team’s little sister, I never made any friends because I never tried to. 
Needless to say, yeah, Eddie and I had some history and maybe things got brought up when Vecna was trying to take over the world that might have been better left untouched. And maybe the idea of seeing him again brings butterflies to my stomach while also making my gut sink. 
“No, it's not that. I just…I guess I just haven’t been feeling it since…since yanno,” I say, half heartedly. 
Robin voices her understanding and tells me to just call back when I make a decision on if I would go or not. I promise her I will and hang up the phone. It’s not like I didn’t want to see them, because truly I did but it also wasn’t a complete lie when I told her I hadn’t been feeling quite right since the Venca situation. 
It was a really traumatic and horrible experience for everyone involved, and really astonishing that everyone made it out alive. 
‘Maybe I should just go…but what if it’s horrible? I know none of my lovely friends would ever say anything to me about it, but I just can’t stand the thought of them seeing me in a swimsuit, especially Eddie.’ I shake my head at the thought. ‘What a stupid thing to think, god, we all nearly died and I’m worried about my stomach in a swimsuit, how shallow is that? I guess some things just never change, no matter the life threatening situation…’
I go about my nighttime routine, washing my face and making sure no lights have been left on around the house. I say goodnight to my mother and fall right asleep. Or, I try to at least. 
But my mind keeps me up for much longer than I would have hoped. 
‘It would be a good time, though. Have a couple of beers, spend the night in one of Steve’s nice guest bedrooms. I wouldn’t even have to swim, I could just say I’m on my period or something. Ugh, but Robin knows that I always swam even on my period when we were younger. I’ll just wear a suit under my clothes and pretend the water is too cold even though it’s the peak of summer? Yeah, that should work. I can’t imagine anyone will care that much anyway if I’m not in the pool with them. I really do miss my friends.’
The next morning I call Robin and tell her I’ll be there tonight. She squeals in delight and tells me how happy she’ll be to see me.
Now it was just time to pick out an outfit, should be simple enough, right? 
Well, after leaving it to the last second and now only having about 15 minutes to get to Steve’s when it’s already a five minute drive, having half of my closet strewn about my room doesn’t seem like a very good place to be at. 
I finally sigh and opt for a swim suit from the summer before that I never wore, a green one piece with a wrapped sort of style for the top portion, and black cut off shorts and an old t-shirt that fits comfortably loose over it. 
I grab my keys and kiss my mother on the forehead, reminding her I wouldn’t be back till the next morning. 
Several shouts of my name reach my ears once I reach Steve’s backyard, it does bring a small smile to my face knowing I’ve been missed just as much as I’ve missed them. 
“You’re actually here, I’m so happy to see you!” Nancy says pulling me in for a hug, Robin joining on top, squishing us all together. 
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s been a while. I’m sorry.” 
“No, you don’t have to be sorry, it’s been a really hard year,” Nancy says sincerely. 
Steve comes up for a hug next, squishing me for dear life, I could feel him about to try to lift me up and spin me around so I pull away rather abruptly. 
“Alright, alright, it’s nice to see you, too, Steve.”
He answers with a kiss to the cheek and makes me promise that I’ll come to the next hangout and every one after that. I see Jonathan and he waves with a small awkward smile. 
Finally my eyes meet Eddie’s. 
~
“James! James! C’mon, come outside and play with me!” It was nearing the end of summer before James would go back to school for his 8th grade year and I would be going into 6th grade. 
“Not right now, can’t you see that I’m busy? I’m too old to play outside anyway,” my brother rolls his eyes. 
I hop down the stairs so I can see the basement fully now. Spotting all of my brother's friends huddled around our dinky old card table while he has books and notepads sprawled on his end. 
“Well, can I at least play your game with you guys? I’m sure I can learn it fast!” I beam, faking confidence in hopes to sway them. 
“No offense, shortcake, but it’s probably too confusing for you. Besides, we’re right in the middle of a campaign, it would be too hard to add in another character out of the blue right now,” Eddie says with a chuckle, like the idea that I could play is too amusing to even consider. 
Naturally, I take full offense. 
“Fine! You’re all so annoying, I didn’t even want to play with you anyway. Especially not with someone who has a buzzcut!” I stick my tongue out at them and run away, but not before I can hear them laughing. 
Sitting alone in my room I know it was childish of me, especially for my age. James was probably right, he was too old to be outside playing tag with his sister. I was too old to be throwing a tantrum like this over some friends wanting to spend time with each other without one’s little sister hanging around. 
~
“Hey, Munson.” 
Eddie nods his head in greeting and goes back to talking with Jonathan. Well, that’s honestly about as much interaction as I expected to get from him tonight. 
“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Robin exclaims, dragging you toward the cooler filled with ice and drinks, I grab a Sprite to start with. 
2 hours later and my Sprite is still mostly untouched and it’s now gone lukewarm. The others are in the pool splashing and playing chicken, I sit on the side with my feet dangling into the shallow end, watching as they fool around and laugh. Giggles and quiet laughs leave my lips on occasion with them. 
“You should get in, the water’s really nice!” Nancy says. 
“Yeah! Strip for us and get in here,” Robin adds, making everyone laugh. 
“You guys just want to get me out of my clothes, don’t you?” I play it off, shaking my head slightly. Giggles erupt again. I excuse myself to the bathroom after pulling my legs out of the pool. 
Closing and locking the door behind me I look at myself in the mirror.
‘I should just get in the pool, shouldn’t I? I do feel like I’m missing out on what could be a lot of fun. And it wouldn’t hurt to wash all this sweat off of me. I could just keep my shirt on, I have an extra change of clothes as backup anyway.’ 
I finish my business and leave the bathroom. 
After turning the corner to go back to the pool I run straight into something firm, nearly being toppled over before hands are at my forearms to keep me from doing so. Seeing dark curls fanning across this “something’s” shoulders and several patches of dark ink on its bare skin, I immediately know I have just run head first into Eddie. Great. 
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I murmur, keeping my eyes pointed down. 
“It’s alright, shortcake. No harm done right?” he says, adjusting his head to try to catch my eyes. 
I nod my head and pull away from his hands that still rest gently on my arms. 
“Hey, hey, what’s up? You’re so quiet tonight, is everything okay?” 
I nod again and pull away harder, rushing out the door to get back to the pool, ignoring his call of my name and a request to “just hold on a second.” 
Pulling my shorts off quickly, I step up to the pool and begin to wade into the water before Robin stops me. 
“Your shirt! You don’t want the chlorine to ruin it!” 
My heart thumps, thinking of how I can handle this. My mouth opens to say something but before I can, Robin cuts me off. 
“Just take it off, no one’s gonna make fun of you for being in your swimsuit and if they do I’ll beat them up for you and then we’ll all collectively agree to throw them out of the group. And don’t try to tell me that’s not what it is, I can see it all over your face. You’re allowed to have fun and go swimming, I don’t like to see you excluding yourself, no matter the reason,” she says. 
Of course she would see right through any lie I could throw her way. That’s just how Robin is. No matter how clumsy she can be, she really is observant. Not only that, but she’s right. Nobody cares and if they do, that’s their problem. 
I rip off my shirt and dive into the pool trying to minimize the time in which people could see me without it. Immediately finding Steve’s legs I yank his ankles so he falls backwards into the water with an unnecessarily loud screech. 
It makes the rest of us laugh loudly until Steve comes back up for air with a thirst for vengeance. He chases me around the pool, not for long considering he’s such a strong swimmer and I’m really not trying very hard to get away from him, and catches me easily. His arms wrap around my waist and I cringe as his hands nudge my stomach, scolding myself for the action right after. Steve doesn’t care about my stomach, if he did, he wouldn’t be my friend. 
“That really wasn’t very nice,” Steve says and starts lifting me out of the water. 
“Steve, hey. Steve! Steve, no, I’m too heavy! Stevie, no! Bad Stevie! Bad!”
I’m thrown in the air as far as he can get me and I splash back down. 
I come up spluttering for breath, “Oh, you are so dead, Harrington!” 
All at once the rest of us are splashing and dunking him over and over, until he pleads mercy. Shrieks and squeals of glee and what might be considered laughter fill the air as everyone gets their turn being thrown into the water. 
Eddie comes back out from the house and cannonballs in the middle of our ‘hate on Steve’ fest. 
Eventually I end up back on the side of the pool in my shirt with just my feet in, this time so I can enjoy a fresh soda and mellow out a little, not to make myself smaller. Nancy and Jonathan have called it a night already, leaving Steve, Eddie, and Robin in or by the pool with me. 
“I never noticed this scar? Where did you get it?” Robin points to my knee. 
The nice old librarian put a hand on my shoulder gently to get my attention, telling me the library would be closing soon and it was best I head home, I hadn’t realized how late it already was. I pack everything together as fast as I can, quickly saying goodnight and unlocking my bike, trying my hardest to race home before the sun sets. 
The wheels of my rickety bicycle pump faster and faster and in my haste I bump over a high curb without realizing, flying off and onto the pavement. 
Tears spring to my eyes as air is sucked in through my teeth. I take a look at my knee and see a small dribble of blood seeping down it, my hands have little scrapes all over, spotted with little beads of red. 
Not the worst I could have gotten from a bike incident, but bad enough to keep me from being able to ride the rest of the way home. It’s not far, but so much for getting back before the street lights turn on. 
About 15 minutes later I make it into our backyard, dropping the two wheeled contraption from hell into the grass and stumbling through the door, all while sniffling back sobs. 
“Oh hey, shortcake! James was starting to get worried about you, you really shouldn’t walk alone at night yanno? Next time ju-” Eddie cuts himself off after seeing the state I’m in. Of course he had to be the one to see me like this. Anyone else could have been sent on snack duty tonight, but it just had to be him. 
“Oh my god, what happened?” He walks up to me. 
I shrug my shoulders and look away. I catch a glimpse of how bad my knees and hands have gotten on the walk home. Blood drips down both knees, my left knee looking significantly worse than the right. Dirt and pebbles cover my palms along with streaks of crimson. 
“Don’t do that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened? Please?” 
I still don’t say anything, fresh, hot tears welling up and already spilling out. I refuse to let stupid Eddie Munson see me like this, all it would be is more leverage to make fun of me with. 
He pulls my hand gently until I’m sitting down. Eddie appears in front of me with a first aid kit a few seconds later, carefully cleaning the gashes on my knees and scrapes on my hands with alcohol wipes. 
“Did,” he lets out a shuddering breath, “Did someone hurt you?” 
“No, god no Eddie, I just-, god this is so embarrassing, I just fell off of my bike is all,” I mutter, not really wanting him to hear the words as they come out. 
“S’ not embarrassing, stuff like that happens. I just wish you would have told me, here I was thinking the boys and I were going to have to band together to cause hell for our favorite little goblin,” he says. 
“You’re just trying to make me feel better, you guys wouldn’t really do that, I guess James might. Most of you guys don’t even really like me that much anyway, you don’t have to lie,” I whisper.
“That’s not true! Of course we would stick up for you!” he says like he’s shocked that I would think the opposite. 
I just shrug my shoulders again and wipe my eyes, still avoiding looking him in the face. 
“Here, let me help you up to your room. That can’t feel good to walk on,” he pulls me up from the chair and goes to lift me into his arms. I jump out of his reach before he can. 
“It’s okay, I got it. Just- you better get back downstairs before they start worrying. I’ll take care of myself.” 
“What? No, you’re basically limping just standing here, shortcake, let me carry you, it’ll only take a minute?” He phrases it like a question. Asking but also sort of demanding. 
The idea is actually really nice, and I want to say yes to it. It would be like when the prince finally gets the princess in all those books I’ve read. Eddie could sweep me off of my feet and whisk me away. 
But I know better, I know that he wouldn’t be able to lift me. Even if he could he wouldn’t so much as glance at me, again, I’m just his friend's little sister. Here only because this is where she lives. 
“No thank you, I’m okay. Go ahead and go back to your game, I’m sure they miss you already. Nobody would even notice if I were gone, but they’ll practically riot without you,” I try to cover how deeply I believe those words with a laugh as I wobble away and halfway up the stairs before he can stop me. 
~
“Um, I guess I don’t really remember. It’s probably just one of those super old scars you forget are even there,” I say, even though I recall the night I got it vividly. 
Eddie’s eyes meet mine from the other side of the pool and they look almost…hurt at the possibility that I might not remember that day. Well, he didn’t get to feel hurt about it. He made it clear that he doesn’t care how I feel when we were in the upside down. 
“Hmmm, yeah, I have, like, tons of those actually,” Robin says, “This one is from my cat, Steven, and this one-” 
“You have a cat named Steven?” I cut her off. She gives me a look that says ‘duh’. 
“But what about Steve? Like human Steve? Was this before or after you became friends? And how has this never come up before?” I practically shriek. 
“Believe me, it has come up before. And yes, before she tells you otherwise, it was after we became friends,” Steve says, settling down beside me while throwing his arm around my shoulders. 
“That is not true! I found him outside the mall before we became friends! We may have been working together at that point, but we were not friends yet!” Robin shouts. 
“We were friends, she’s just embarrassed that she named her cat after me,” Steve whispers in my ear, making me giggle like a schoolgirl. 
Even though I’ve never seen Steve romantically, he still had the ability to reduce me to feet kicking and hair twirling. 
“What’s wrong with you, Munson?” Steve asks, noticing the scowl covering his face that usually carries a bright smile. 
Eddie shakes his head, “Nothing man, just thinking about how I don’t have a beer in my hand right now.” 
A call of my name breaks my gaze away from the mirror. 
“You almost ready? It’s time to go!” James yells, entering my room. “Hey! You look great! It almost feels like I’m sending you off to prom already,” he says wiping fake tears from his cheeks. 
I shove him in the chest and readjust my hair and the straps to my dress for what feels like the millionth time. It was a rather simple looking thing considering I had to sew it myself since the only dresses even near my size were too far out of theme for the 8th grade Winter Snowball or they were simply just ugly. 
Light blue and white fabric lays delicately across my shoulders and down to my knees, matched with white slip on shoes and silver snowflake jewelry. 
“You look really nice, seriously. I know how nervous you are, but it’s gonna be okay, I promise,” my brother assures me, slapping my shoulder much harder than necessary to push me towards the door, “Now it’s time to get your butt moving, let’s go!” 
When we arrive at the dance I immediately catch eyes with Robin and speed walk to her. James goes wherever he's needed for volunteering. 
After about 45 minutes the first slow song of the night comes on as I sit contently by myself at the far end of the bleachers. I wasn’t sad to not be dancing with anyone, I was honestly sort of relieved that I hadn’t had to dance all night. But watching all the couples on the dance floor does make my heart ache just a little. 
“I haven’t seen you dance all night, what’s that about?” 
“Why are you here?” 
“Ouch, shortcake, I don’t even get a hello? And what, I can’t come volunteer with your brother?” Eddie says, fake hurt painting his face. 
“It just doesn’t seem like you, I guess.” 
He sits down next to me leaving at least enough room for another person to sit between us. He hands me an unopened juice box. 
“Seriously though, why aren’t you out there? You don’t have someone you wanna get cozied up with on the dancefloor?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me in his typical annoying Eddie way. 
I roll my eyes, as my stomach twists with shame. He’s mocking me, isn’t he? 
“Nope. I’m okay with it though. Honestly I was perfectly happy just sitting here. Until you showed up that is,” I say with a shrug. 
“Oh really? Well, gosh, who made you such a sour fart?” he laughs as I push him in the arm. 
“Alright, c’mon then. Pity party is over, let's go do this,” Eddie holds out his hand and raises a brow when all I do is look at it confused. “Let’s go dance, shortcake, you should at least once before it’s over.” 
“Um- I-” I’m at a loss for words. There’s no way he’s being anything but friendly but my stupid heart skips too many beats to count. 
“Here, I need to go check on James and see how the other volunteers are doing. While I take care of that, I want you to sit here and decide if you want to dance with me or not. Of course, I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna, but if you’re up for it, I’m here,” he says, bouncing back to the drinks and snacks table. I smile giddily at his back and stay sitting. 
By the time the last song of the night played I was still in the exact same spot I had been for nearly 2 hours, waiting for Eddie to come back. 
Immediately after he left, I knew I wanted to dance with him. Of course I would. I’ve known him since I was in 4th grade and have had a crush on him for a year now. All I had to do was wait a few minutes and I would get to live out a fairytale dream. Dancing across the room in a flowey dress with the guy I liked. Of course it would be strictly platonic on his end but it could mean something more to me silently. 
So there I sat, with my empty juice box, tapping my foot in excitement. The first slow song ended and there was no sign of Eddie, but I was sure he just caught up with volunteer work. After the next 3 songs played I began to doubt myself slightly. 
‘Maybe he hadn’t actually wanted to dance like it had seemed. But he looked really sincere when asking me. Yeah. And even if Eddie is just a regular teenage boy, and he can definitely be a jerk sometimes, he’s much sweeter and kinder than most. He wouldn’t leave me hanging like that. He’ll be back any minute now, I’m sure.’ 
By the time 11 more songs had played, I knew he wasn’t coming back. Tears were smearing my mascara while I sat as still as possible on the bleachers, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.  
Of course he wasn’t being serious. He just wanted to tease me like usual, the only difference was this time it went too far. This time he was cruel about it. He could have just told me he didn’t mean it. Instead he strung me along and had me sitting here like a lovesick puppy for an hour straight. 
Who was I kidding? Eddie couldn’t be interested in me. He was my brother's best friend and had seen me grow up. I was just his friend’s chubby little sister. Wearing a dress that doesn’t sparkle and shine like all the others’, sitting alone and pouting like a baby. 
He probably thought I would crush his feet if I accidentally stepped on them. 
After persevering through another hour of horror, James finds me in my corner ready to head home. 
“All ready to go?” he asks jovially like he always seems to be. 
“Yes.” 
James picks up on my mood right away, but I’m already halfway to the car before he can say anything. 
“Okay, uh, I gotta clean up some stuff still but here,” he throws me his car keys when I turn back around, “Go get the car started yeah?” 
I nod and head out to the car when I see Eddie jogging up to the doors after me. My steps speed up hoping for all hell to avoid him. He calls my name but I don’t look back or slow down, in fact, the only thing it succeeds in doing is making me walk faster. 
My hands shake as I try to slip the key into the driver’s side door handle. Warm hands settle on my wrists. 
“Holy shit, I am so sorry, shortcake. I was so excited to dance with you, I really was, I just got caught up in helping another volunteer with something and lost track of time. I didn’t mean to forget you there all alone, I swear on everything. I know how excited you were for tonight and I am so sorry. I didn’t realize how long I had been gone until everyone started leaving and then I saw you get up and realized what I’d done, please forgive me,” he rambles off almost too quickly to understand. 
I expect tears but all I get is a deep rooted feeling of shame and anger. Ashamed by the fact that I thought he would come back and angry at myself for sitting there hopelessly when I could’ve danced with Robin at least. 
“Please, look at me. Please tell me you at least got to dance with someone else, right? You had a good time? Please tell me you at least had fun,” he pleads. 
A scoff escapes me as I whirl on him. 
“No, I didn’t dance with someone else, I sat there and I waited for you. I waited for you the whole time, and I guess that was my first mistake wasn’t it, huh? I believed you. I really thought you meant what you said to me.” 
I rip my arms out of hold. 
“You know what’s funny, too? I was actually having a really good time before you showed up. I told you as much earlier, even. I was perfectly happy to sit by myself, considering that’s how I spend most of my time anyway. I was really enjoying just watching the lights and the twirl of dresses, alone. I was overjoyed to just sit and watch Robin dance with her friends. And you had to come and- and lie to me! You made me feel special for fuck’s sake.” 
His eyes flash with guilt and he must have finally realized how much he hurt me. 
“I get that I’m not the prettiest and skinniest girl and I know that most of those kids don’t even know my name, but you do! You know me. You know me and you still forgot about me,” I pause and take a deep breath, “Do you remember what I said that night when I fell off my bike?” 
Eddie shakes his head.
“Nobody would even notice if I were gone. Nobody, not even you, I guess. You forgot about me not even 5 minutes after making me feel like the most special girl in that whole damn room. And that was really mean, Eddie. I hope you, at least, have a good rest of your night,” I step into the car and start the engine.
Steve plops down next to me holding 4 cans of beer, one for each of us. 
“I’m really happy I came tonight, thank you, for inviting me and not forgetting about me after I kinda disappeared,” I say quietly. 
Steve pats my back while Robin says something along the lines of ‘duh, of course we would never forget about you.’ 
Eddie stays silent, watching me closely. 
I put my drink on the ground beside me and lay on my back, pulling my shirt down to make sure it covers me still. I start to count the stars, just to keep my brain occupied. My eyes drift shut, my mind choosing to visit yet another memory tonight.  
It was James’ graduation party. All we had were a couple tables set up with snacks in the backyard and a bonfire, nothing too fancy. I made a simple ‘Happy Graduation!’ banner to hang across the gate for everyone to see, too. 
I’m wearing a plain white sundress and converse, I knew I would be running back and forth from the backyard and the kitchen too much for heels to be sensible. Making sure there’s enough drinks and food and ice for everyone was my job tonight. The sun is still up, melting the ice and warming every drink out here. 
James calls my name softly, “You can quit running around and tending to every little need. Come hang out with everyone for a little bit. Please?” 
I set down the metal tub where drinks are kept and walk over to sit around the fire with him and his usual friends. New faces have popped up over the years, but many stayed the same. Danny Williams, a junior who may or may not have been my first kiss when we happened to both show up at the same party and ended up playing spin the bottle together, Jason Carver, a freshman who appeared promising on the football team before switching to basketball instead, Michael Brown, a senior who’s been in the little Hellfire Group since the beginning. There are several others I don’t recognize and even more that I do. 
Of course, Eddie is there too. I just haven’t really…acknowledged him in…in a really long time. 
I haven’t necessarily been giving him the silent treatment, but I stopped entertaining the conversations he always seemed to start with me. 
Danny greets me with a smile as he sits down next to me. He even pulls his lawn chair a little closer towards mine, grinning slightly while doing so. 
“What can I do for you Danny?” I say. 
“Oh nothing. I just wanted to come sit by you, is all.” Huh. That…that sort of stumps me. 
I didn’t think Danny would even recognize me at the party, and I’m honestly even more surprised that he wanted to talk to me after kissing me. We make small conversation, butting into the rest of the group's discussion once in a while to add an opinion. 
Night had fallen and marshmallows and graham crackers were brought out for s'mores, as well as a couple of 12 packs of beer that someone had brought with them. 
I knew James had gone to several parties to celebrate winning a football game where there had been alcohol, or even just little get-togethers where it was provided. I guess now that it was only soon-to-be seniors and high school graduates, minus myself, left at the party it was time for that portion of the night to begin. 
I stand up to go in and let the others have their fun. 
“Where’re you going?” Danny asks, grabbing my hand lightly, looking up with wide puppy dog eyes. His eyes are a pretty green color. Brown eyes have always been my favorite, though. 
“Oh, I was just going to head in and call it a night. That way you all could have your fun without worrying about me dragging you down.” 
My comment makes his brows furrow, his mouth opens to say something, but he’s cut off. 
“You can stay out here, you know. No one minds having you here and I’m sure dear old James doesn’t care if you partake in a little drink, do you?” Eddie states. When did he get so close to us? 
“Even if I did care she gets to do what she wants, man. As long as you're safe about it, go for it,” James says, patting my back and taking one for himself. 
I’ve never drank before, but what the hell? James was leaving in just a few weeks now and this might be my only chance to try it. It’s certainly one of my last chances to hang out with everyone like this, at least for a while. 
After just 2 cans my tongue had already loosened significantly. Danny and I had been talking and giggling the whole time until he had gotten up to go home since his designated driver was ready to leave. 
“So, you and Danny seem pretty close suddenly?” Eddie phrases it like a question, wanting more information on the subject. 
Usually I would just hum in what could be taken as agreement or disinterest but my mind was running a little slower than normal. 
“Yeah, he and I kinda ran into each other at a party that I kinda crashed with Robin and we ended up, like, kissing and stuff,” I giggled. “But shhhh, don’t tell anyone else.”  
Eddie’s eyes widened, but that could have been a trick of the light. 
“What, uh, what do you mean by ‘and stuff’?” 
“Oh nothing. We just had one teensy tiny kiss because we were playing spin the bottle,” I say, not really thinking about it. 
Now I really know my brain is playing tricks on me because for a second I think Eddie looks pleased with this new knowledge that it didn’t really mean anything. 
“I feel like we haven’t really talked in a long time. What’s, uh, what’s been up, lately?” 
The question itself is awkward, but the way he struggled through it made it even more awkward. 
“I’ve been regular old me, Eddie. Nothing new or exciting. Although I did finish a book last night that really threw me through a loop. Oh! Actually there is something exciting! Do you wanna hear it?” 
He smiles, “Of course I do, shortcake.” 
“Well,” I take another sip of what is now my third beer, “William Gillar and Stacy Johnson have finally graduated!” I let out a squeal. 
Eddie just looks at me confused. 
“Do you have any idea what this means, Eds? I am finally free of those two asshats for the rest of my high school experience! Isn’t that amazing! I mean, it was easier to ignore this year than last year, but god I am so thrilled! No more mean notes from them calling me a pig in my locker and book bag, I can even finally find a table to sit at for lunch instead of hiding in Mr. Steerwell’s class,” I sigh happily. 
“Do you wanna know what else they did? This is so silly! They used to catch me on my walk home from school and steal my library books. How stupid is that? Why would you steal someone’s library books, right? They would run around with it so I would chase after them and then laugh at how my body would jiggle. How funny, right? I am so happy they’re gone, Eds, you have no idea.” 
Eddie has his mouth halfway open, anger flaring in his eyes. But that couldn’t be right, why would he care about a couple of high school bullies. 
“No, that’s not funny or silly. That’s been going on this whole time? And you didn’t tell anyone? God, why wouldn’t you tell someone, sweetheart? That’s horrible,” he says. 
“Meh, it’s just normal high school bully stuff.” I wave my hand in dismissal. 
“No, it’s not. Bullying shouldn’t even be considered normal anyway, but what they did to you? That goes far beyond normal, shortcake. I wish you would have said something. You know James and I would’ve taken care of them for you, right?” 
“Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it. It’s too late,” I dismiss him and his misplaced worry. Honestly, it was nothing I couldn’t handle. He must have sensed how much I didn’t want to talk about it anymore because he dropped it. 
The night moves quickly after that, people say their goodbyes as James takes over clean up duty, considering I can barely stand up without nearly falling asleep. 
“Eddie, will you take her in and make sure she gets into bed okay?” James asks. 
That’s how I find myself being semi-dragged up the stairs to my bedroom and thrown on the mattress like a sack of potatoes. I don’t think Eddie was half as rough as my brain made it seem, to be honest. 
“Eds?” I whisper looking down at Eddie who’s kneeling by feet, gently taking my shoes off. 
“Yeah?” 
A couple beats of silence pass where I try to figure out how to word what I’m thinking. 
“I forgive you.” His movements stop. “I hope you know that. It’s probably such a silly little thing to even remember but I forgive you for forgetting to dance with me. I probably would have forgotten me, too. And…and I am sorry. I really am, for pushing you away so hard after. It was really stupid of me and I wish I hadn’t. Robin is a good friend, but you’re kind of the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend, I think. And I threw that all away over hurt feelings. Puberty, am I right?” I giggle. 
“S’ not silly to remember that. And you weren’t being stupid, sweetheart. You were hurt, you were protecting yourself and I don’t blame you for that. I should never have even walked away from you that night, but I did. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness for it,” Eddie says. 
More words mumble out of his mouth but none of it registers. Soon the noise stops and I feel Eddie’s warm hands pull my shoes all the way off, pushing my legs onto the bed and turning me to lay comfortably on my stomach. 
He must remember that’s my favorite way to sleep. 
My mind must really hate me because I swear, right before I fall asleep, I feel lips pressing gently to my forehead while a guitar calloused hand pushes hair away from my eyes. 
Of course, that didn’t actually happen because that’s not something Eddie would do. Right? Yeah, he wouldn’t…
A timid shake to my shoulder pulls me from my dozing. 
“Hey, shortcake, it’s time for you to go in.” 
There’s only one person who’s ever called me by that nickname. 
“Hm, it’s been a while since you’ve called me that…Eds.” 
I don’t know what made me decide to use his nickname. It never seemed right to use it after we drifted so far apart when James left. 
Eddie helps pull me to my feet. 
‘Hmmm, he’s always been a lot stronger than he looks. I barely even lifted myself up for him.’ 
“Oh, now you wanna be all friendly again? Using a nickname and everything? What’s this all about, huh?” Eddie says, steadying me with his calloused hands when my legs wobble.   
My brows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“Earlier, when we were in the house. You practically ran away from me. I mean, it’s just that we…we haven’t seen each other since we went into the upside down. I thought maybe,” he lets out a long breath. “Maybe things had changed or something, I guess. I was hoping we could talk about it after we all got out but you’ve been avoiding everyone.” 
“And why is that? Why do you think things would have changed Eddie?” 
~
“No! No, no, no! Edward Munson, if you cut that rope, so help me god!” 
“You know I always love when you use my full name.” 
And the bastard cuts the rope. 
The next thing I know, he’s out of the trailer doing something entirely too heroic and the exact amount of stupid he always is. 
Before I can think I shove Dustin out of the trailer, the one not in the upside down, and send him to go help Lucas. 
“No! We need to help him! Can’t you see that he needs help!” 
“I know Dustin, I know. That’s why I’m staying here. But I need you to go find Lucas and Erica and check on Max. There are others who still need our help, Henderson. Please, listen to me and go help them.” 
I turn back into the trailer before he can disagree again, locking the door to make sure he doesn’t follow. Without second guessing, I jump through the portal, landing somewhat safely on my side. 
I manage to find a bike and just a few minutes later I’m riding as fast as I can towards the bat tornado that Eddie stands in the middle of. 
“Eddie you dumb jerk, you better not be getting yourself killed!” I scream at the top of my lungs. His eyes catch mine as a look of horror crosses his face. 
“Why the hell did you follow me? I specifically told you not to!” 
“Yeah, well I specifically told you not to cut the rope!” 
We fight off the bats as best we can until they all suddenly drop to the ground. 
Eddie and I stand breathing hard, our brains trying to catch up with all of what just happened. Eddie turns to me, a grin beginning to form. 
I punch him as hard as I can in the chest. And then I do it again, and then again and again, until I’m pounding my fists against his chest over and over again. 
“What the hell?! Honey, stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” 
I choke on hiccupping sobs as hot tears overflow past my lashes. 
“Don’t you ever do something like that again! Ever!” 
Eddie grabs my wrists to keep me from hitting him anymore. I keep trying until I realize his hold on me is too strong. 
“Princess, you gotta stop. I don’t want to see you hurt anymore, please stop.” 
He wraps his arms around me, stroking the back of my hair, pressing soft kisses to my forehead. 
“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’re okay, I promise.” 
“That was not okay, Eddie. Not okay!” I tell him looking up into his eyes. 
“I’m sorry, I really am. But look, we did it!” 
He looks down at me thoughtfully. His eyes flit down to my lips. My breath catches. 
He couldn’t possibly be… 
His lips are on mine. And Eddie Munson is kissing me. 
Both of his hands are on the side of my face, rubbing his thumbs softly across the apples of my chubby cheeks. 
I pull away, “What do you think you’re doing?” 
“Kissing my shortcake,” he says with a smirk while I grimace at the phrase. He laughs at the face I make and kisses me again. 
I kiss back harder this time, getting lost in all things Eddie. The way his hair feels soft even despite being so dirty. His lips are somehow minty. He smells like smoke and old books. 
My heart soars. This has to be proof, then. Eddie must think of me the way I think of him. I can’t imagine ever kissing someone with this much passion if it didn’t mean something more. I smile into the kiss.
Footsteps sound behind where we stand and Eddie pushes me off of him, placing several feet between us. I look at him confused and hurt by his sudden change in behavior. He refuses to meet my eyes. He even wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, looking straight ahead at Steve, Robin and Nancy appearing in front of us. 
Oh.
He’s too embarrassed to let his new friends see him with the big girl? Is that what it is? Does he suddenly regret kissing me? Was it just a heat of the moment type of deal, then? I was the closest human thing, so he settled on me for a little ‘yay the world didn’t end’ kiss?
In my whole life, I don’t think anything has hurt as much as that did. 
~
An uncomfortable amount of silence fills the air.. 
“Things got weird after James left, but you know that. We both felt it, even though we tried to ignore it. Jason started to act like he ran the damn school even though we were friends at one point. I never saw you because we were never at your house anymore. Then I got held back and we basically had every class together. Then I got held back again and you graduated. I missed you. I really, really missed you,” he says the last part quietly. Almost like he was afraid for me to hear it. I hold back a scoff.
“I missed you so much, it’s ridiculous. I just wanted my shortcake back. My sweetheart, my princess, my honey,” he laughs to himself, I stay quiet. “God, I was such a jerk to you growing up. And not because ‘I had a crush on you’ because that’s bullshit, guys shouldn’t be allowed to be mean to girls with the excuse of it being ‘romantic’. I wish I had treated you better, been a little friendlier. I never realized how much you meant to me until your brother’s graduation.” 
He takes his eyes away from his feet to glance at me. 
“Do you remember that night? It was your first time drinking and you got so sleepy I had to tuck you into bed. You had told me about you and Danny at that party and it made me jealous. I’d never really felt jealous before, certainly not like that at least. It made me realize how deep my feelings for you went.” 
I remain silent, partly because I didn’t want to interrupt him when this is the most honest and vulnerable he’s ever been, out of respect, and partly because I was utterly confused and angered by what he was saying and claiming.
“You forgave me for leaving you alone at the dance, even though I never deserved to be forgiven for that. I didn’t even know how badly you were being bullied at school until you told me, that’s not a person who deserves to be forgiven.” 
A soft laugh and a pause. “I guess what I’m saying is…is I wish things had, in fact, changed after Vecna. And I know, that’s probably not something you want to hear because I know it’s not the same for you but I figure if you’re not gonna talk to me anyway, I may as well tell you, right?” 
He takes a step towards the house but I don’t let him get far. 
“What do you mean it’s ‘not the same for me’?” 
“Well obviously you’ve been ignoring me since I kissed you so, clearly it wasn’t something you wanted.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And that’s okay. I’m not saying you have to be with me or anything, I’m just saying…I don’t know what I’m saying.” 
“I’ve been ignoring you?” I ask, dumbfounded by his idiocy. 
“Well, yeah. You haven’t even been answering the walkie.” 
“And you think that was because I didn’t want to kiss you? Not because, oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that the second Nance and the others showed up you shoved me away from you? It couldn’t have been because it was obvious you couldn’t stand the thought of being seen with me?” 
Eddie’s face drains of color. 
“I can’t help but see now that this is all you think I deserve. A quick kiss when no one can see, right? A little making out before someone can figure who you’re with, huh?” 
“No! That is not at all what that was! I can’t believe you would think that. I pushed you away so you wouldn’t be seen with me!” he shouts, cutting me off. 
“What?” 
“The whole town wanted me for murder! Murder! They thought I was running a cult that killed my friend as a sacrifice! My friend! I didn’t want you to be tied to that anymore than you already were, so I pushed you off before the others could see. If someone, somehow went yapping about a girlfriend of mine and things went sideways when we got out of the upside down, you might have gone down with me and I couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t. I was going to tell you all of this as soon as I could but you never let me get the chance, and I see why now. I am so sorry it looked like I was embarrassed to be with you, but that will never be the case with me.” 
He takes my face in his hands and looks me directly in the eyes. 
“You are single-handedly the most beautiful person I have ever met. Inside and out. You have always cared for me and the old Hellfire Club. Don’t think I didn’t know it was you sending cookies on our campaign nights, even after graduating. I remember when I showed up at your house looking for James because some older kids had taken my lunch money in middle school, little you went after them yourself and did one helluva job doing it. You sat me down and cleaned me up. Gave me peas to put on my forehead.”  
It was like a forgotten memory was just pulled up by his words, I did remember that. 
“I could never be embarrassed by you, ever. I don’t care what people think. I…I love you. And I love your hair, and I love your eyes, and I love your laugh, and I love your stomach and your thighs, and I love your mind. I love you and I hope you can see it. I hope…I hope you can see me,” he finishes off in a very quiet whisper, tilting his head down and away from my eyes. 
I place my hands over his that still hold my face. 
“I have always seen you, Eddie Munson. Always.” 
His head jolts up to look me in the eyes once more. 
“God, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I know you’re not a horrible person, I should have known, I’m so sorry. God, you were literally being hunted for murder and I was crying about you being embarrassed by me? I’m so fucking sorry.” 
I shake my head and take a deep breath. 
“I love you, I have for so long. I love the way you smile, I love the way you’re not afraid to take up space, I love the way you’re there for Dustin, the way you were there for me countless times. I love you and your horrible music.”
“Hey, now. Watch it.”
I laugh, “I love you and I see you and I’m so sorry.” 
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re forgiven, I promise. You didn’t even really need to apologize in the first place.” 
“Yes, I did. Because none of that was fair to you.” 
“And none of that was fair to you, shortcake. It’s okay.” 
I look at his lips, and that’s all the cue Eddie needs to kiss me. Finally. We put our hearts into it, getting lost in each other. Getting lost in our sudden understandings of the other.  
“We’re both really kinda stupid aren’t we? Stupid and oblivious,” I say, chuckling quietly. 
“Oh, definitely. I mean, we’ve known each other for, what, at least ten years and we couldn’t figure this out without a bunch of drama?” 
“It seems very on brand for you actually, you’ve always been one for the dramatics.” 
“I love you.” 
“And I love you.”
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hungermakesmonsters · 4 months
Text
Catch Me If You Can
Chapter Seven
Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.
Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader
Story Rating : R 
Chapter Rating : PG
Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Billy is a bit of an asshole in this one and briefly restrains reader during an argument. Also he's kind of an entitled douche. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 
Word Count : ~2.8k
A/N : Ok, so this chapter and the next chapter technically happen on Halloween (I know, i'm super late with this, it's just how things panned out when I decided to post a chapter a week) Thanks to everyone still following this and for all the likes, comments and reblogs, y'all are awesome!!
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX
Chapter Seven
You should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy to get Billy Russo out of your life, not after the night you’d shared together. 
Six days.
That was all it took before he was trying to pull you back in and you hated that you hadn’t expected it. You’d let yourself hope that your one night had been enough, that he’d managed to get you out of his system and he’d be able to move onto whatever woman caught his eye next.
And, you - you’d been trying to forget all about it, about him. You hated leaving him but you knew it was the right thing to do, your life was too messy and you knew that you’d never recover if you let yourself fall for a man like Billy and he broke your heart. You’d done what was best for the both of you, so it pissed you off that Billy didn’t seem to want to accept that.
And it pissed you off even more that he’d decided to use your job against you - a job that he’d never seemed to judge you for, that he was now using to drag you across the city because he wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. He’d even had the audacity to pre-pay with a two hundred dollar tip, like he thought he could buy you.
By the time you got to Anvil to collect whatever it was Billy wanted you to courier, you were livid. You made your way through the lobby and up to the top floor and, eventually, found yourself in front of the secretary.
“I’m here to collect a package,” you told her.
“Mr Russo wants to hand you it personally,” she answered in a flat tone, waving her hand towards his door, barely looking up from her computer.
“Of course he does,” you sighed, “look, I’m in a rush, can’t you just get it and bring it out here?”
“That’s above my paygrade.” And something told you that that was all you were going to get from her.
So, you did the only thing that you could do; you took a deep breath and stormed into his office. He was sitting at his desk, a takeout coffee and a half eaten bagel in front of him, and when he saw you, he had the nerve to smile.
“One night, Billy, that was the agreement,” you snapped before the door had even finished closing behind you, “We had one night and now it’s done, over.”
He didn’t answer straight away, instead he buzzed the intercom and told his secretary to go get her lunch, presumably so no one would overhear you screaming at him. And, then he stood, smoothing down his suit jacket as he did, looking every bit the businessman with an offer to pitch.
“I want a new agreement,” he stated calmly, rounding his desk and stepping closer, clearing the distance between you. “Nothing is over.”
“And - what? - you think you can buy me now? You think you can just throw a two-hundred dollar tip at me and I’ll fall into bed with you?” You didn’t even try to hold back the anger and the hurt. “Does it make you feel powerful, dragging the poor little bike messenger across town to your big fancy office? Is the money because you want to fuck me or is that supposed to be payment for the other night?”
“That’s not - I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” the hint of regret in his voice earned him no mercy from you, “I just wanted to see you, the money was so you couldn’t refuse.”
“I don’t want your money, Billy. And, for the record, when a woman sneaks out on you before you wake up, it’s because she’s done with you and doesn’t want to see you again.” You hadn’t come here with the intention of being needlessly cruel, but you needed to make Billy understand that things between you were finished. “When you care about someone you don’t go out of your way to make them feel cheap - Oh, wait, that’s right, you’re not capable of caring about anyone, are you?”
There was a flicker of hurt on his face but he was quick to recover.
“How long was it?” He asked. “How long had you gone without being fucked before me? Years, I’m guessing. You think you can go back to that after a night in my bed?”
“Who says I’m going back to that?” You answered back, and Billy didn’t like it one bit.
“You think you’re gonna find anyone who can make you feel the way I did?” Billy gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head. Some part of you knew he was right, that nothing would ever be like the night you shared, but you were angry and you weren’t going to let him win.
“Guess I’ll just have to find out,” you shrugged and his gaze darkened. “I suggest you do the same, Billy.”
“You think I haven’t tried?” He admitted angrily, and you felt like you’d just been punched in the stomach.
“What?” Rage and pain coiled inside you. Less than a week and he’d already tried to replace you. How long had it taken to fall into bed with the next one? You hated yourself for even daring to wonder. You wanted this, you wanted him to move on, but you never expected it to hurt so much. “So you dragged me here to tell me how much you want me after you’ve been fucking other women?”
“I didn’t fuck anyone. I couldn’t because of you,” and you could see just how angry that made him. “D’you think I want to feel like this? That I want to be stuck on the one woman in New York who doesn’t want me? Who doesn’t even want to use me? Have you got any idea how fucked up and broken you make me feel?”
There was a painful honesty in his words, something that he clearly saw as a weakness that needed to be overcome.
“You want to talk about feeling fucked up and broken, Billy? I told you from the start that I couldn’t do this, but you pushed and pushed until you got your way.” Your voice broke, betraying your pain, eyes desperately blinking as you tried to fight back tears. “You turned my whole fucking life upside down and now - now you’re telling me you only want me because you can’t fuck anyone else?”
Something in him seemed to break in that moment and whatever anger he’d been feeling washed away. He reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek before you pulled away.
“Let me -”
“No, Billy. This has to stop, you have to let me move on.”
“No.”
“It’s not your choice to make.”
He took a breath and, for a second, he looked like he was going to relent. But, of course, he didn’t.
“So, that’s it? You’re gonna go fuck some random guy just to try and prove to yourself that you don’t want me as much as I want you?” His sharp tone was quick to return. “You’re gonna let some guy use you just to make a point?”
“If that’s what it takes, I -”
“Bullshit,” he shook his head, “we both know that’s not gonna happen.”
Were you really that predictable, that easy to read? Probably. He’d seen you panic, afterall. No. No. Billy-fucking-Russo didn’t get to dictate what you did or how you felt. You weren’t going to give him that power over you. No one got to have that power over you. Never Again.
Anger had you reaching out, slapping him before shoving him backwards, knocking him off balance. And, after that first stumble, you found yourself lashing out again and again, pushing Billy back across his office, and you didn’t stop until he made you. He took hold of your wrists, stopping you from pushing again.
“Fuck you!” You all but snarled at him as you struggled against his grip.
“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do, sweetheart,” he answered back, tone matching yours.
“I’ll fuck whoever I want, Billy, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He gave a sharp tug on your wrists, pulling your body against his.
“I told you before; you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of. I won’t let you” He was right, you didn’t, but you found yourself remembering what Krista told you, that he was dangerous. And you started to think that maybe she was right afterall.
“You can’t stop me.” All the while, trying to pull yourself from his grip.
“Yes I can. You’re mine and I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine, sweetheart.”
“I’m not yours,” and that was when the panic started to set it. You thrashed against his hold on you, lashing out and trying to knee him in the balls. He angled himself away from you, twisting your arms and managing to turn you so your back was pressed against him.
All you could think was that he’d never let you go, that this would be your life now, completely at his mercy. You’d have to leave New York to get away from him, you’d have to uproot your whole life again. He held tight, even as your feet lifted off the ground, kicking out as you struggled, desperate to get away from him.
“Let go!” The tears that you’d been trying to hold back soon started to fall.
“Not until you calm down,” you hated the concern in his voice - he didn’t get to worry about you, not when he was doing this. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“You’re hurting me!” You cried out in a strangled sob.
Billy let go of you suddenly and pulled away from you, realising that he’d fucked up. You took a few steps forward before you dared to turn back to him, and he looked broken, devastated by what he’d done. When you said he was hurting you, you meant in general, you meant the ache he caused in your chest, but Billy was looking at you terrified, like he’d done even more than that. For reasons you didn’t understand, it made your heart ache to see him like that.
“I didn’t -” he tried but there weren’t any words. Billy knew that he’d crossed a line, that he’d really fucked up. “I wasn’t trying to -”
“Just - just stop,” you finally managed, a hand clumsily trying to wipe away your tears.
“I can’t,” barely able to bring himself to look at you, “I don’t know what I did wrong. What was so bad that you can’t even bear to see me again? I don’t know how I fucked this up, you just left me and I don’t know why...”
“I -”
You hated that he was right, that you hadn’t even tried to see any of this from his point of view. This all could have been avoided if you’d done things a little differently; all the times you chose not to remind him it was just for a night, the way you’d slipped out without saying goodbye. How had he felt waking up to find you gone after the amazing night you’d shared? You hadn’t thought about it. Leaving him had been hard enough but, after everything, the least you could have done was leave a note.
What had been on his mind that night when he fell asleep wrapped around you? Had he dared to hope that he could convince you to stay? 
“What did I do?” He asked again. 
Nothing. Your night together had been perfect and it had meant so much to you.
“I thought you had a good time with me.”
“I did, but it was one night, Billy. I left because it was over.” You wanted to at least give him that, to let him know that it wasn’t him.
“It’s not over, not for me.” He dared to take a step forward, and you took a step back. The pain on his face was unbearable and it felt like everything you said only made it worse.
“It’s not a discussion, Billy. I told you this couldn’t go anywhere.” You took a few more steps, not stopping until you were by the door. “Don’t do this again. Just leave me alone. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Yes you will.” Spoken like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind.
“Goodbye, Billy.” You shook your head as you pulled the door open, not daring to look back, not daring to say anything else; you needed it to be over, you needed to get away from him. Thankfully, he let you leave without any fuss. But, as you made your way to the elevator and out of the Anvil building, his words kept replaying in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the angrier you got; the fact that he’d tried to move on so quickly while he thought you’d be stuck on him forever, the way he’d dared call you his when he didn’t even know you.
You finally managed to choke back your tears in the elevators and, by the time you were outside, you had your phone in your hand, texting Tammy - she’d mentioned a Halloween night out with some of Anvil’s new recruits and, suddenly, you were very interested in a night on the town. You were going to go out and you were going to prove Billy wrong.
But, you didn’t have anything to wear and that meant borrowing one of Tammy’s old Halloween outfits, all of which came with the prefix sexy. Of course you very quickly ruled out sexy nun, sexy nurse and sexy cop. And that left you with a sexy catwoman costume, consisting of a faux-leather bodysuit, cut a little low at the front, but it had long sleeves and came with a mask, so you could at least hide just how embarrassed you were. You managed to cover yourself up a little more with fishnet tights, a pair of knee high boots and a leather jacket.
At the start of the night Tammy was full of questions, wanting to know what had happened with you and Billy, and if it was going to affect her position at Anvil in any way. She knew that you’d spent the night with him, but that you’d snuck back into the apartment before six am. But, fortunately for you, once other people started showing up at the bar she lost interest in you. 
You started out in a little bar, drinking vodka and Redbull, and shots of tequila every time one was placed in front of you. Over a dozen people turned up, mostly Anvil trainee’s but a few of the office staff who worked with Tammy too. Including Michelle. But, aside from throwing you a shitty look, she stayed away, too distracted by the attention she was getting for her costume; a strapless white bodysuit, shirt cuffs, and bunny ears. It wasn’t long before the phones started coming out and people started taking pictures. You stayed in the background, enjoying your drink until it was time to move on to the club.
Before leaving the bar, you decided to dip into the bathroom, needing a moment to think about what you really wanted. Part of you just wanted to go home; you didn’t want to hook up with some random guy just to prove a point, but what other choice did you have? How else could you get Billy to finally let you go?
“I can’t believe Billy took her to the gala and not you,” the voice sounded vaguely familiar, one of Tammy’s friends. You froze, knowing that they were talking about you.
“He probably just wanted an easy lay,” Michelle. You held your breath, not even daring to move, even though some part of you wanted to storm out of the cubical and confront her. “But, tonight’s the night, I’m going to show Billy Russo just what he’s been missing out on.”
“He’s coming to the club?”
Fuck. 
“Look what I sent him,” you heard shuffling and remained completely silent, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Oh my God, you sent him a thirst trap and he fell for it.” They both laughed, finishing up whatever they’d been doing at the sink, their voices getting further away as they finally left the bathroom.
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry - after everything he’d told you, all it had taken was a picture of Michelle to have him moving on. Was he doing it to hurt you, you wondered. He knew how it had made you feel seeing him with her in your apartment. But, that was ridiculous. Billy didn’t even know that you were there. And you realised you could turn that to your advantage; if he saw you leave with another man, he’d have to admit that it was over between you...
CHAPTER EIGHT
END NOTES : With this one being a Halloween chapter, I decided to post it a little earlier than usual and will probably post the next part within the next week before we get too close to Christmas (and also because then hopefully the chapters that are set at Christmas will be posted at an appropriate time). Also I'm sorry everyone was so shitty to reader this chapter.
Thanks for reading!!
TAG LIST
@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove
107 notes · View notes
aussiepineapple1st · 4 months
Text
Hidden Wounds
A/N: This is an idea myself and @sunhatllama on Tumblr had while in a discord voice call. We both decided to write a fic on the same thing and seeing how we do it differently to each other. please go check her out!
Chreon Words: 1966 Contains: Whump, injuries, comfort.
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They had done it. Finally able to breathe a sigh of relief as they flew over the city of New York, Leon, Rebecca and Chris all resting in the back of the Osprey.
"I think that's all the vaccine." Chris says aloud for everyone to hear, standing up he then begins to tighten all of the valves, closing them up. He reaches over the canisters and pressed the button to cause the ramp to close. With a whir it closed, the wind rushing passed all of them ceasing.
Leon watched the sight as he sat closest to the cockpit, his left hand cradling his right forearm that rest on his thighs. Feeling a sudden burst of dizziness, Leon gives a few blinks, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Did he just need some sleep? No, this was something else, he never got a sudden wave of head spins when he was tired. Yes he was tired, but he knows his body well enough to know something was up.
Now that all of the adrenaline had finally wore off, Leon could feel the immense aching he had in his body, his right arm and torso especially. He had been throw and rolled around from falling off his bike, as well as squeezed and kicked in a short amount of time. He wouldn't be surprised if his inside felt like they were on the outside. Had he not known about a wound he may have sustained?
"Leon..?" Called Chris from the other side of the Osprey. This caused Leon to turn his head towards the taller man, seeing a specific look on Chris' face that told Leon he was concerned. Chris would usually pick up if something was wrong with Leon before he would pick it up himself. Chris also hadn't seen how rough Arias had been with him while fighting, when Chris found the vaccine.
Leon started to sit up straighter, adjusting himself to answer Chris. The edges of his vision becoming black as his ears rang, all sound becoming quiet and muffled. Falling forwards, Chris was already on the edge of his seat seeing the distance in his boyfriend's eyes. Launching himself forwards he manages to catch Leon's head before it hit the metal ground. "LEE!" Chris called with a panicked tone, Leon's face had become a flushed pale, which was what had given Chris a tip that something was wrong.
Leon's eyes were darting around as he looked to settle on something, anything to focus on. Chris brushed Leon's fringe from his clammy face as he removed his gloves so it wasn't so rough on Leon's skin. Chris unzips Leon's leather jacket to get a better look at what was going on underneath.
A black bruise had appeared on the entire back of Leon's right elbow and bicep, reaching up under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Wincing at the sight Chris lifts his shirt to continue examining Leon, his entire stomach was also bruised. He was probably suffering from a few cracked ribs and there was some definite internal bleeding happening.
"DC! GET US TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL! NOW!!" Chris frets. Looking back down to Leon in his arms.
"Chris.." Leon said barely above a whisper, his hand reaching up to hold onto Chris' forearm as support. Everything was very quickly going to black, Leon's eyes closing and neck going lax as his hand drops to his chest. He was out.
"Leon?" Chris said his name quietly, not wanting to believe his boyfriend had just fallen limp in his arms. "Leon!" He repeats, wanting an answer from him. "Lee! Open your eyes!" He pleads, a hand gently patting Leon's cheek. "Come on, buddy.. Stay with me!"
Nope, it was useless. Chris gathered Leon's limp body and limbs to hold him close to his chest, he needed to keep him warm until they made it to the hospital. Chris, out of nerves was continuously combing his fingers through Leon's hair, Rebecca had also made her way beside them and lay the blanket that was around her body over Leon. Her medical training coming back to her as she makes sure Leon's pulse was staying at a healthy BPM.
After what seemed like forever to Chris, they arrived on the roof of a hospital. Chris carrying Leon over the canisters and over to a stretcher that was waiting for them as well as a few medical staff. Gently laying his boyfriend on the stretcher, Chris moved Leon's fringe from his eyes one more time before they had started to wheel him inside.
Chris followed, Rebecca close behind Chris as she was there to emotionally support her old friend. He was stopped once inside, not being able to follow Leon and the doctors. "Is he going to be okay?" Chris asked the nurse as she guides him and Rebecca to the private guest waiting area.
"I'm not sure sir, but I will make sure to get an answer for you as soon as I can." She says making sure Rebecca had Chris sorted before she leaves the both of them alone.
"Boss, We need to clear the airspace. DC and I will find you once we've found somewhere to land." Nadia relays through the comms in Chris' left ear.
"Copy.." Chris answers as he flops onto the closest lounge. He couldn't rest though, his shoulders tense as he rests his elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together as he bounced his right leg.
Rebecca makes her way to sit beside Chris, sitting down and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chris? I'm sure he'll be okay. The doctors know what they're doing and I'm sure they'll take good care of him."
With a quick head turn, Chris looks to Rebecca from the side of his eye before looking back to his hands in front of him. "I know. He just.. Collapsed." His brain was still trying to process everything. Was he really that beaten up when he had left to find the vaccine for Rebecca? He couldn't have stayed to help or they would have lost her, right? No the vaccine would have saved her if she had turned, surely...
"I know. He looked really beat up, but so are you. Maybe you should get some treatment while you're waiting?" She suggest, her hand gently patting his shoulder.
Chris gives a hesitant nod, his eyes trailing to the doors he wasn't allowed past, the last place he saw his boyfriend. "Yeah.. I think it might help with the nerves a bit." He agrees.
"There you go. I should also get myself checked, so we can go together, okay?"
Chris and Rebecca both leave together, getting seen to by the duty doctors to get their wounds sawn and cleaned up. The whole process for the both of them taking 20 minutes before they made their way back over to the waiting room they had been guided into. Chris having let the receptionist down at the front entrance where DC and Nadia could find them after they too had their injuries seen to.
The wait for any information on Leon was torture. Was he okay? Did they get him tot he hospital on time before he bled out internally? Had he crashed on the table? Did they manage to fix him up before anything major happened? Chris was a wreck, sometimes pacing the room before Rebecca would tell him to come and sit back down or offer him a hot tea. She had made him so many at this point he had gone to the toilet twice. Finally a nurse walks into the room and Chris' head turned towards her like a prey animal being alerted to danger.
"Are either of you here for Leon Kennedy?" She asked.
"Yes, we are." Chris says immediately standing up and making his way over to her. "Is he alright? It's been 4 hours." He states with a worried tone.
"Yes, he's perfectly fine. I'm here to take you to his room if you would like? Follow me." And without hesitation Chris follows, Rebecca trailing behind so she could relay what room DC and Nadia's Captain was going to be in. Heading in the elevator to the 3rd floor, the nurse leads them down a couple of hallways until they reach a door with P309 on it.
Inside the room was only Leon's bed, a private room. The silence filled with the hissing of oxygen that entered Leon's nose via small tube hooked over his ears. The beeping of the Blood Oxygen machine attached to his right index finger, as well as the whir of other monitors Leon was connected to through sticky patches on his torso, fill the silence. Leon's right arm was in a sling and resting over his chest, elbow in a small cast to keep it in a bent position. An IV and blood bag was attached to Leon's left inner forearm and top of his left hand. He looked peaceful as Chris approached, standing beside Leon's bed and looking over his Boyfriend's beaten body.
"He sustained a large amount of internal damage, they managed to stop the bleeding, but he still lost a lot of blood so they want him to have at least 2 bags before letting his body try and recover the cells on it's own." The nurse starts to info dump, looking over the couple of pages she had on the clipboard in her hands. "He also has bruising to his spinal cord, liver and right kidney, but those are going to heal up nicely. A broken elbow and bruised Humerus, multiple lacerations to his torso and slight dislocated right shoulder." The nurse takes a breath and gives a nod as she hooks the clipboard to the foot of the bed. "Do you have any questions?"
Chris shakes his head, that was a lot to take in. "Alright, I'll leave you three alone then." The nurse says as she leaves the room.
"I'll also leave. I'll bring DC and Nadia to the waiting room we passed on this floor so we're closer. Take your time and I'll come and check on you in a little bit alright?" Rebecca states as she stands in the doorway of Leon's room. She only received a small nod from Chris who promptly took a chair and sat by Leon's side.
After it was just the two of them in the room, Chris finally speaks up. "What the hell happened to you while I was gone?" They had been split up a couple of times during this Op, but he wouldn't have thought Leon faired this poorly.
"Sorry..." Croaked Leon's voice quietly, causing Chris to turn his head up to Leon's face. "I was being reckless."
Chris felt a rush of relief flow through his body as Leon continued to speak, reaching to grab Leon's left hand, gentle not to disturb the cannula in the top of Leon's hand. Standing to his feet, Chris leans in and pressed a gentle kiss to Leon's lips. Once pulling away he stayed close, resting his forehead against Leon's. "You can't be reckless in our line or work. I could have lost you."
"I know.. I'm sorry." Leon apologised, his eyes closed, basking in the love and affection he was receiving from his boyfriend. "I'm just going through a rough patch right now." Leon admits.
"We can talk about it if you want? I don't have anything I need to do right now, I can do it later." Chris admits pressing once more kiss to Leon's lips before he sits back down in the chair he had placed beside the bed.
"Yeah.. that would be nice.." Leon smiles slightly, tears forming along his lower eye lids, giving Chris' hand a gentle squeeze.
🏷️: @greywardensaywhat @maehemthemisfit @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders @sunhatllama
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oftenderweapons · 3 months
Text
Down The Rabbit Hole | KSJ
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Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Fawn)
Wordcount: 12.5k
Genre: one shot, pwp, smut, fluff, only mild angst, fwb au (?) kinda(?)?, divorced! seokjin, dilf!seokjin
Rating: 18+, minors please do not read or interact
Synopsis: Seokjin has been meeting Fawn at The Rabbit Hole for a while now. A place of debauchery and foregone inhibitions, and yet only one rule would not budge. Will Fawn finally have a taste of the forbidden fruit?
Warnings: DILF!Seokjin (it's a trigger warning in and of itself), oral sex (female receiving, attempt at male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), degradation kink, corruption kink, handcuffs, sex toys (vaginal sphere), dry humping, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breast slapping, voyeurism & exhibitionism. Mentions of divorce procedures, mentions of Seokjin's three precious daughters. Brief cameo of our lovely darlings Namjoon & Mia.
As always, thanking the magical girlie that made this fic a bit more coherent @nervous-moon and the special friends that made me get here. Also, a special thank you to past me, who persevered and got off birth control for this fic LOL
As always, please remember that showing some love to fics will power authors through the major struggles of this platform and will eventually make them write bigger, better, bolder fics 💕
You’ve known Seokjin for two months. He’s stunning, he’s smart, he’s friendly and adorably chirpy — before the games begin.
Here's my masterlist, enjoy you spicy little nuggets
Read more of this AU | MYG | KNJ
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You’ve known Seokjin for two months. He’s stunning, he’s smart, he’s friendly and adorably chirpy — before the games begin. 
Once you’re in the room, the sweet father-of-three turns into a man with no restraints. He has an appetite for all things cunning and controlling. 
He tells you how to do things. He tells you when, for how long. Harder, faster, rougher, deeper. 
He always asks for more, 
He is insatiable and ruthless. 
However, despite what that introduction might make it sound, there’s so much more of him you haven’t had: all your previous encounters were only foreplay. 
His list of previous inhibitions was so long that in two three-hour-long sessions you hadn’t yet tackled anything regarding his dick inside your vagina — truly a shame, since that’s a perfectly beautiful, perfectly thick, perfectly long dick, and you would know since you’ve acquainted with it through your hands, mouth and boobs. 
Seokjin is the most promising man you’ve never had sex with; that is, you’ve had sex with plenty of mediocre men, and a couple good ones, you’ve double checked handfuls of men on the streets, but he’s by far the one you can bet will give you the ride of your life. You don’t know why, you just know.
And maybe, if you’re lucky enough, that will happen tonight. 
“Here’s my pretty fawn,” he says once he notices you at a corner table, out of the main floor where people are starting to mingle. He kisses the too of your head. “How were these weeks apart?”
“Hi,” you tell him, and from the little somersault of your rib cage, you can tell the distance did make the heart grow fonder. “It was chaotic, but I survived.”
“You’re a tough cookie, Fawn. By now you should know there’s nothing you can’t overcome if you put your mind to it,” he says, proud, reassuring. 
It’s the same tone he uses for ‘you take it so well” and ‘that’s my golden girl’ and ‘come on, Fawn, just one more, sweetheart’.
You melt. You know you melt, and your body betrays you because you can feel the heaviness in your lower belly, and you can tell that your core will be coated in wetness in about eight seconds. 
“As for my past few days, I’ve been busy, as usual.”
“How are the girls?” you ask, eager to imagine more bits of them. 
“Lily is turning ten next week, as I told you. Rose is getting better at biking, and soon we’ll be able to go for short outings in public together, And then darling Daisy has just called a truce with spinach so we have added one more ingredient to our weekly rotation.” As Seokjin talks about his daughters, something in his face lights up and you can imagine the man he must be outside these walls, far from the reign of debauchery he slips into once every other week. A dedicated man, committed, domestic, devoted. He smiles when he talks about his girls, his whole world brightens, like they were his personal constellation showing him the way. 
“Did you recover from our last session?” he asks, concerned, meek, respectful. He is so kind to you, always. 
“I did…” You keep it vague because telling him that you've been laying on your back, fucking yourself with your largest toy, gasping and hiccuping his name doesn't feel like a productive angle for an answer. Not the kind of answer you want to give him in public anyways. 
“Any notes about what we did last time? Anything relevant we should renegotiate?” 
I want us to walk through the door tonight and I want you to throw me on the bed, bend me over, lift my skirt and fuck me straight up, because you are the reason I'm going commando under this effing tight dress, you try to tell him with your eyes, the tilt of your head, the little lick of your lips and the light bite at your lower one. 
“No, nothing relevant, really.” 
He stares at your mouth for a hot second, and you can only hope he's thinking about the last time he's come on it. 
“So you want…” He hesitates as he thinks about the next step. “You wanna keep this foreplay only.”
You cock an eyebrow at him, then you take a sip of your drink, and click your tongue a couple times, as if trying to savour the wine. “You're the one in command. You know that.” 
“I command you when you're naked. And you're dressed now, alas.” He cocks an eyebrow right back at you, mirroring your sarcastic snare. “And this is a matter of consent and limits, which means we're equals right now. The games haven't yet begun, Fawn.”
You look around, as if the other clients could possibly help you in this situation. 
You want him, you're dying to have him, and if he could bend you over, spank you and fuck you right over one of the entrance tables, you'd let him. 
You'd probably also let him come inside, or do other slightly demeaning acts to humiliate you. 
“We can play it however it lays, no pressure.” That's what you tell him, really trying not to betray your true intentions. 
“Do you, or do you not?” he asks, and you do feel pressured. 
“What do you want me to say?” You provoke him, staring him down. “Because this is sounding like you have indeed an answer you want to hear from me.” 
He shakes his head, exasperated. “Fawn. You don't usually struggle with telling me what you want. You want foreplay or you want us to fuck?” 
“Either is fine. We'll see that later.” You down more of your drink and he stares at your throat as you swallow. You catch him staring and you feel heat creep to your cheeks, but you’re not embarrassed, rather pleased with his distraction. 
Too bad you’re not him and you can’t tell he’s been sizzling with want for days. He’s been separated for years now, but with the divorce practice being completed in a few weeks, he’d been more tense than usual. He knows he’s doing the right thing leaving his marriage behind, however the idea of raising three daughters alone, and giving his ex-wife the chance to start the kind of life she’s been too ashamed to pursue is terrifying. 
Lily, Rose and Daisy are the joy of his life, but soon Lily will enter adolescence and her mother will be there for her, sure, but he’s been the one consistently raising them for the past five years, almost turning into a stay-at-home dad for them, while Ara was busy rebuilding her career and travelling and saving money to afford moving out by herself. 
He supported her. Their marriage had ended for all the best — though most painful —  reasons: they didn’t love each other anymore, not as partners at least. He could tell she was no longer happy, she hadn’t been since Rose had been born. Daisy was probably the last straw. He’d rather have his girls having a happy mother than have a miserable spouse for himself and a mediocre parent for his children. And he knew the girls would learn the right lesson from this: you can only be loved right when the one you love knows how to love themselves. 
Plus, he could tell he hadn’t been loving Ara right for a while. He could bring himself to stay loyal to her and respect her and be there for her; still, he also knew he owed himself actual happiness, and he would be a coward if he refused to go look for it because he was afraid of not finding it, or getting hurt in the process. 
And now you’ve entered the picture. He’s seen a bunch of people before you, but he knew they weren’t quite right — he’d even issued post-session feedback where he stated he didn’t want to be matched again with two of the women he’d spent the night with. 
He’d entered the Rabbit Hole with the purpose of some light-hearted fun with other adults who, like him, had already seen a fair share of life and could also have the same mature and intellectual approach towards intimacy. 
A friend of his had driven him here after a particularly bad date with a woman almost twelve years younger than him who seemed more interested in being the girls’ mother than his girlfriend first. 
Being honest, he’d spotted you the first time he’d seen you at the Rabbit Hole, but he’d never pursued you because he believed in the system matching him according to his profile. He assumed you wanted something off-limits to him — maybe you were into getting your partner tied up, or leashed like a pet, or entirely enslaved — but apparently it was just a matter of letting the match play itself. 
It happened around his fifth or sixth party: he had entered the foyer thinking he would once more spend his pregame staring at you from the opposite table, drinking, getting riled up at the thought of you kneeling before him, his dick in your mouth. He had fixed his trousers and headed to the room at the sound of the bell, and a few minutes later, as the lock turned and the door opened, he had found you there, with your pretty doll mouth and your plush cheeks and your round, doe eyes, innocence personified. 
“What are you thinking?” you ask him, your fingers tracing his elbow, calling for his attention. 
He shakes his head. “I’m thinking of the first time we matched.”
You smile, then catch your lower lip between your teeth. “Interesting.”
He takes hold of your hand, so gentle, then caresses your knuckles, the touch as shy as a whisper. “What did you think of it?”
“The first time I saw you?” you ask, curious and surprised at his question. 
He nods and you giggle, embarrassed. “I had caught you staring a few times before. I was intrigued.”
He gives a bright, although secret smile, and his fingers flirt with yours, dancing in between each other. The mere touch of his hand against your own is turning you on. 
“I was wondering if I’d ever match with you. If we didn���t because you were into hardcore stuff, or maybe you wanted to dominate and I was not… I’m not submissive.” His eyes play hide and seek with yours, as if he were ashamed. 
“Well… That gives…” You let him hang in that pause for a few seconds, then give him the word, “It’s a new perspective.” You can feel him exhale in relief at that. “I wanted to see what you were into too. Too bad we were too shy to approach each other.”
“But apparently we were meant to meet.”
“Just a matter of time…” you tease him. 
That night, when you’d first met, you’d clicked immediately. In less than fifteen minutes, you were kissing, and within that first half hour, you’d never been happier to be naked with a man. 
He was attentive, touching and kissing places that almost no one had ever paid attention to. He tickled the back of your knees, and pressed the plush petals of his lips to the arch of your feet. He nipped at the edge of your ribs, and licked at the small dip at your hip, where the sinew of your quad attaches to the bone of your hip crest. He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and dipped the tip of his tongue at the twin hollows at the base of your spine. 
When they talk about being worshipped like you were the only woman left on the face of earth, that’s probably what they mean. 
It made you really generous — the kind of generous that makes you end up on your knees with a very messy mouth. 
It was surprising, how you went on for one full hour dragging pleasure out of each other in an almost torturing way, so close to him entering you, and never doing so. 
At the end of that, you’d suggested staying till morning, but he’d explained how he was a single dad and he really should be there in the morning. 
“And that second time?” you tell him. 
He blushes to the tip of his ears and it makes you giggle sweetly. 
You’d entered the room already fully immersed in your role. You’d called him sir, made it clear you were his efficient, loyal assistant who’d been nursing a crush on him for so long. And he’d been playing along phenomenally, barking orders at you, and fucking your mouth, praising you so sweetly while mascara tears ran down your cheeks — just to draw a line when it came to him using you to cheat on his wife. 
The fantasy had been brusquely interrupted when you realised he could actually be cheating — he was a father after all, from what you’d understood. He was quick to explain he’d been separated and that was the best decision he and his ex-wife had taken; and he’d shown his interest in your game by returning to it by saying how his sweet secretary had come into his life to make him realise he’d never truly had passion with his wife. 
“You were surprising,” he admits. “Unexpectedly resourceful.”
Tonight the bell can’t ring soon enough. You just want to drag him to a dark corner and cover him in you. You want to rub yourself against him, all over him. You want to see him covered in your own wetness, and the lack of panties is only making you more sensitive. 
“Would you do it again? A little roleplay?” you ask him. 
He arches both eyebrows. “I thought I was clear about it. Adamantly, yes.”
“Hi there,” you hear, and turn around to be faced with two familiar faces. Right there, remnants of your third encounter with Seokjin. 
Namjoon and his Mia, the latest hype of the club. They’d been performing together for some months now, and everyone said their sessions were something else entirely. You and Seokjin had started your third encounter by watching them in the voyeur area; there, they could perform within the three walls of a private room and a large two-way mirror, behind which people could watch those who consensually exhibited their encounters.
“Lovely to see you, Mia,” you hugged the woman and kissed her on both cheeks. It could have been awkward to interact with someone you’ve watched having sex, but with her — maybe also thanks to the environment of the club — it was liberating, almost exciting.
Meanwhile Namjoon and Seokjin shook hands, starting to chat with ease. 
“So, how’s it going with your wet dream prince?” she asks, knowing perfectly well how long you’ve been pining for Seokjin. “Is he worth the hype?”
Your expression could be the definition of ‘the cat that got the cream’. 
“Girl, tone it down a notch,” Mia says playfully, hitting your arm. “Is it getting official or is it a no work all play kind of game?”
Your grin tones down a little. “He’s a father, Mia. He has obligations.” 
Her face looks entirely sympathetic. “I see. But there’s nothing wrong with asking, you know? If you’re interested…”
“I’ve got no interest in getting my heart broken,” you say, your tone final. “He needs to focus on his girls and only wants to relax and be selfish when he comes in here. I don’t want to be a burden.”
Mia shrugs and gives you a little curl of her lip. “I don’t think he sees you as a burden, but you should check that out. In person.”
“There’s other stuff I want to see in person, but it’s been…” You lower your voice to a whisper. “We’ve only kinda foreplayed so far.”
Mia tips her head to the side a little, as if confused. “Well. That's interesting. I mean, foreplay is the main act, if you ask me about it. I think—” She turns to the side and addresses Namjoon, “Darling, what would you think if we only did foreplay, no sex?” 
You feel your entire head explode with shame, and you assume Seokjin is having a similar reaction. 
“I would think you really like foreplay, or — given that this context calls for transgression — you've probably been raised to think that foreplay is taboo. Maybe it's something you've been deprived of, and here you want to claim it back.” Namjoon's hand lands on the small of Mia's back and from the way her eyes roll closed and her lips part softly, you can tell that his touch has a certain influence on her. “I know I don't usually deprive you of it, quite the contrary, but if it's affecting you so gravely tonight, then I might as well deliver.”
You look at Seokjin and he's giving you a certain look that you can't quite interpret. 
“You know, if my partner only wanted foreplay, I would simply assume that they really like it,” adds Seokjin, his gaze rolling off of you as he continues. “And that maybe sex is a meaningful experience to them, and they really want to work out all the kinks in it.” 
You stare at him, entirely too surprised at his comment, but he's looking at Namjoon this time. 
The man is giving him a sombre, polished look and you understand his appeal — too bad you've been captured in Seokjin’s orbit a long time ago. 
Within that expectant pause, the bell finally rings. 
Namjoon can't put his hands on Mia fast enough. The woman is thrown over his shoulder as soon as the bell stops ringing, and he's taking large strides towards the private wing. 
“Guess tonight is not for show,” you murmur, then turn to Seokjin. 
You're afraid he's going to chastise you for your confession to Mia, but he doesn't. He's giving you a blank look, his mind impenetrable. 
For a moment you think he's going to deny you, and frankly you wouldn't be too mad. He would be entirely too right, after you violated his trust and his privacy. 
“Seokjin, I—” 
“Behind closed doors, Fawn.” And he leaves you there. 
If you had any chance of going through this unpunished, that chance withered right about now — or rather, a minute ago with the ring of the bell. That's the signal for his personality switch and he's just flipped from cute and quirky father to demanding and domineering sex god. 
You watch him enter the private wing alone, and you can only hope for your room key to be matching his. 
Five agonising minutes later, you realise it does, and it takes you only half a second to realise that you're tragically unprepared for what's waiting for you. 
“On your knees,” he orders as soon as you walk through the door. “We're gonna bruise them tonight, Fawn.” 
You obey, any objection dead on the verge of your lips. 
“I thought I'd been clear about my intentions last time.” 
He had been, fairly so. He'd addressed the foreplay situation and he'd planned on going all the way, which was still sort of new to him, especially considering that he'd been with only three women except his ex wife. And then again, most of that stuff wasn't too daring an experience. He felt a little under pressure with you, and he knew he couldn't quite yet control himself when it came to seeing you naked, much less touching you. 
He had been taking his sweet time when his phone had started blaring. He'd taken five, maybe six seconds to understand what was happening, and then he'd dashed off you, picking up the phone. 
You'd been too confused to understand, and even when he explained, it took you five lonely and cold minutes abandoned alone on the bed to realise he'd left. 
Rose had apparently caught lice from a classmate, the nanny was on the verge of burning the house to the ground and Lily and Daisy were quite panicked by what was going on. Before you could get dressed, he was already on his way home doing damage control. 
“I have responsibilities, Fawn. You know that. I wouldn't have answered that phone call, and I would have taken proper care of you if it had been an option.” He lowers to you on the ground, pleased with the way your eyes look like dark beads of obsidian in the softly lit room. 
He was probably the one who asked for the fireplace to be lit and for a velvety alcove to be prepared right in front of it. 
“And I meant it when I said I wanted something special with you.” He grips your chin, angling your face so that the light from the fireplace can caress the apple of your cheek in a way that makes it most biteable. “I meant it when I said I want to do this right. We can have that now.” 
You lick your lips, trying to smoothen the ugly feeling of a dry mouth. It's hard to think and talk at the same time. 
“I appreciate that you're there for your girls, I just wish you hadn't left me hanging.” You sit on your heels, then shift on all fours and crawl a flirty half step his way, your lashes like expensive and seductive fans of ostrich feathers luring him in, caressing the most tender spots of his body with your gaze. 
You're pleased to notice he's entirely charmed by your allure. 
“I won't deny you tonight, fawn,” he says. “I might as well give it to you right away.” His hand dives for your hair and grips it at the base, giving two subtle and suggestive tugs. You feel a low purr emerge from your throat and he smiles. “Welcome back, my naughty girl.” 
You crawl one more step in the direction he drew you to, and he understands that you got his message. He rises to his feet, then dives his fingers once more in your hair and leads you to the plush lair sprawled in front of the fire.
“Such an obedient little pet,” he praises you. “I wonder what you got for me tonight.” 
He's used to sexy little lingerie numbers — stuff with lots of lace and lots of ribbons. What he's not expecting is for you to drop your chest to the floor, arch your ass up in the air and expose your naked, blooming folds. “I thought I might surprise you for the night.”
Seokjin takes a few seconds to realise there's no g-string, no thong, no wicked contraption waiting to trick him.
Just naked truth, wet, warm skin, laying there for him to claim. 
“Naughty indeed.” He kneels behind you, and he's tempted to rub himself against you and slip inside you after you've begged and prayed and cried for a while; however, he's under the impression that's exactly the game you want him to play.
So he simply sinks his teeth into your ass cheek, then licks the bite away.
“Stay right there.” And he disappears. 
Footsteps echo around the room, then you hear the slide of a drawer. 
He's probably choosing his instrument for the night, and you're aching to turn around and see what he's inspecting. 
You'd also pay good money to know what he felt when he found you naked. 
You'd mostly pay all the money to know what it takes to lose a man like him. 
But that's another story, one that you don't intend to follow, especially since Seokjin is returning to you. 
“We're gonna train you for me.” He kneels behind you and the feel of something extremely cold against your folds causes you to arch your spine up to the ceiling, your pelvis moving away from the sensation.
Seokjin, however, is merciless. With his forearm braced against the middle of your spine, he forces you to arch your spine back down, your entrance bared to him in a lewd, unmistakable way. 
“I want to fuck you with my tongue. You look like dessert covered in icing. You're gleaming with arousal.” And as he talks, he keeps sliding the sphere up and down your folds, your skin so disturbingly sensitive. 
At some point, your hips escape your control and you tilt your ass further up to the ceiling, chasing Seokjin's hand in hope he'll offer you some reprieve. 
But he doesn't. 
Instead he slides something warm and thin inside you, that wiggles and then unfortunately, sadly retreats. 
You only have the time for a hiccup of disappointment before he returns to toy with your folds. 
Seokjin watches you writhe as he sucks on the finger he just extracted from your cunt. It makes him feel powerful, but most importantly, it makes him feel alive. It makes him feel wanted. 
It makes him feel like his own needs matter, that he comes first, which is not an ordinary feeling for a father of three. 
He loves this about you: you put his needs first and you don't make him feel bad about it — that is, he doesn't feel bad about coming first with you. Maybe that's also the reason why he's reluctant about introducing you to his family life. He doesn't need a nanny, or a cook or a housekeeper. He just wants someone he can enjoy those crumbles of spare time he has for himself. 
He freezes. 
Someone to date. 
Realisation is like a mirror shattering to the floor, each shard reflecting one different aspect of him. Father, ex-husband, manager, employer and employee, overachiever, knight-in-shining-armour, but also, somewhere, needy, dark overlord. 
He is all of that. And he is curious about seeing whichever many ways you can stand by his side in every role. 
“Seokjin,” you whisper, barely a moan. You try to lift your hand from where it fell before, abandoned on the lush carpet below you, but it lands again, and grips whatever it can as he slips one sphere inside. 
“There, Fawn. What is it?” He chuckles and the sound that follows — the silvery tinkling of a belt — is like mockery to your ears. 
“Bet this isn’t enough, huh?” He stares at you, at your position on the floor, cheek pressed to the carpet, dress pulled up, and shakes his head. He’d never have thought he could enjoy this, and yet… He loves this. He’s hard from this. 
He kneels down, rotulae hitting the floor with a mildly disturbing thud. He rolls up the hem of his button down, dick so hard it’s reaching his navel. He grips your hip and pulls you closer, the heat of your ass slamming against his hips. 
You gasp. It’s finally happening, you tell yourself. 
“Why so quiet, darling?” he says, bending over, speaking against the shell of your ear. “I thought you’d at least thank me, you know?”
Rubbing your ass against him gives you a rough estimation of how he’d fit against you, inside you. 
He teases his tip against your entrance, slow and wet. The sound of it is slick and lewd, and he can swear it’s the best he’s ever had. 
“Please,” you manage to squeak out, so pathetic, and even needier than that. 
He makes a weird sound in his throat, like a muffled groan, and it makes you even wetter. As your muscles clench, you feel the sphere inside you readjust, massaging a different corner of your inner walls, and it steals a hum of pleasure out of you, a guttural sound, something as animalistic as your current position. 
“Just the tip,” you beg, your voice weak, frayed at the edges. 
You expect him to mock you and deprive you, but the heat of him corrects its trajectory and it’s right up against your centre. 
“How can I not…” he murmurs. “You’re here. Ass up like a bitch in heat.”
Heat bubbles to your cheeks and your back arches even further, offering yourself up. You’re even more embarrassed, but there’s no need to run from him. 
Not after you’ve seen his eyes flicker, wicked, as he cleaned your orgasm from his chin with the back of his hand; not after he’s stuck his fingers in your mouth, his cum still dripping from them, in an attempt to quiet you down from screaming his name through your orgasm. 
“I can’t wait to see how dirtier you can get,” he tells you, then grabs your earlobe with his teeth, tugging a little. 
Saying you grind yourself against him is the largest understatement you could ever concoct. You hump in the most unmistakable way you can. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me. How much longer do you want me to—?”
And he dips in. Just dips, really. Only the tip. “God. Tight,” he gasps. 
You try to push yourself up against him, make him sink deeper, faster. You want to ride him. You want to be the one doing the fucking. 
He can lay back and enjoy, for all that matters — you’re sure you can bounce on his dick until your thighs cramp and you collapse on his chest. And at that point, if he hasn’t come yet, you’re pretty sure you can roll over and he can take over.
“Too greedy, my pretty fawn.” 
And he moves back. Away. 
“You’re gonna make me fold, Fawn,” he whispers. “Too soon.”
And he stands. And there’s that silvery tickling again. 
“No,” you cry out. You turn and rise, just in time to catch him tucking his shirt in. 
Your ass plops down to rest on your heels and you feel tears of frustration bubble up against your lower lashes. “No, please.”
“Too soon, sweet cheeks. Now get back in position.”
You frown. “But—” 
“Fawn, darling.” He gives you a patient look, so sweet, so understanding. 
God, he must be such a good dad, you think for half a second. “But Jin—”
“You know I’m gonna take care of you. Now, if you do as I tell you, we can get this—”
Something vicious snarls inside you. You’re not sure where it comes from, but you bark out, “No.”
Seokjin arches one beautiful eyebrow. “Come again, darling?”
“I said no.”
“Bend over, Fawn.”
You can barely keep a straight face as you finally say, “Make me.”
Seokjin shakes his head. He knows he’s gonna love this. “That's it.” On the inside he's glowing with joy, but he cannot show that, he must punish you. 
Except he knows you love this too. 
He grabs your hair and moves you so that he can make sure you're not going to hurt yourself if you fall: he will be cuffing your hands behind your back, which means you wouldn’t be able to stop your fall if you were to lose your balance, and he needs to be careful.
You're still kneeling on the ground when he lowers himself and uses his own torso to push your own to the plush carpet in front of the fireplace. 
“And now stay. You're playing with fire, Fawn.” 
You feel him step back and remove himself, and you're tempted to disregard his petty request and follow him to the drawer. 
Except you don't, because you know you're already getting what you wanted. And you can still rouse him later if he's not sufficiently harsh. 
“God to know you can still follow a basic, easy order, darling.” The first cuff snaps around your left wrist, and he slips two fingers between your flesh and the metal to make sure it isn't too tight on you. He repeats the same procedure with the other wrist, and the gentle way he checks makes you want to submit immediately. 
He suspends the scene just enough to kiss your palm before caressing the curve of your bottom. “If you want to safeword, remember it's your right, and you can do so at any moment,” he reminds you, practical and kind. 
“I will if I need to,” you say, reassuring him, but also trying to move on to the actual scene. 
“Good. Cause I want you to remember about tonight every time you walk or sit in the next three days.” 
Your stomach knots, awaiting, and you wiggle your ass in the air, your torso still disappointingly clothed. “All I hear is empty threats.” 
That's when the first slap hits. 
It's Seokjin's hand against your ass, but it's harsh and angry, and you know you're going to get exactly what you wanted. 
The impact makes your insides clench, and the sphere shifts against your inner walls. 
You hum in pleasure, your fingers twitching as you try to make the sensation bearable. 
It's truly torture. You're wet, and this weight inside you keeps massaging you, taunting you suggestively. 
“This what you want?” Seokjin asks you, and you nod, knowing that you can tell him, you can trust him. That he will give you more of it because this is all about trusting each other, and giving each other pleasure, and just—
“Fawn. I swear I'm gonna fuck you tonight. But for the love of fuck I need to take the edge off myself or I'm gonna be pathetic.” 
You're currently spooning on all fours, you propped on your knees, breastbone and cheek, while he’s caging you in from above, his thighs bracketing yours, one of his arms pinned just beside your shoulder, the other hand free to roam. 
And right now it lands right on your pubic bone, the ball of his palm resting right against your pelvis. The moment he starts drawing slow circles on your clit, finding just the right spot, your body gives in, and some grinding resumes. 
“You're so fucking hard,” you tell him, and you know just how banal your statement is, but historically, you're not usually smart when he's coercing orgasms out of you, especially with his fingers. 
You grow dumb. 
Your brain can only focus on sensation. 
And there's the sphere situation happening too, just to complicate this further. 
“I told you I need to take the edge off.” 
“You can come on me, you know?”
He chuckles. “Oh darling, that one you'd made clear already.” He registers your sharp inhale and moves more delicately. “Do you need me to slow down?” 
It makes you snort a little petty laugh. “No, it's just—” You release an exhale and move against him more openly, unbridled and luxuriant. “It's strange with the sphere.”
“I just want you to be all relaxed and warmed up when I slip inside you,” he tells you. 
“And I think I'll have to get you some kegel balls. So you can train during the week, when we don't meet.” He kisses your spine and your eyes roll closed. 
All you need is the sensations he's giving you, your body awakening piece by piece. It's like every molecule of you is finding new meaning, new depth, new sensitivity. 
You've never been so aware of each muscle pulling taut. 
“Seokjin,” you whisper, and he hums, he realises you called him and he replies simply, but neither of you can really string words together at this point. 
“Jin… If you—” You're trying to connect word after word, looking for meaning, but your tongue is uncooperative, and you can't quite make sounds into words. 
You want him to keep going. You really do. 
But you also need to take one or fifteen breaths because this is getting too good — maybe too important too. Because you want him now, but it also dawns on you, quite rudely, that you want him all the time. That you've been thinking about him too much lately, even when it's a silly sweet nothing like ordering pizza or washing the sheets. 
What kind of pizza does he like most? 
Would he like the smell of my sheets? Would he find them too light? Too warm? Not soft enough? 
Does he shower warm or cold? 
He moans your name and you shake your thoughts awake — as awake and aware as you can be underneath him.
“Are you close?” he asks, and you know you are, but you can't quantify how long it's going to take you. You were closer for sure before your thoughts had wandered towards the day-to-day life of him.
It's so strange that you would need to focus to stay tethered to your own pleasure; however, quite disappointingly, that's the way it seems. 
“I don't know,” you tell him, not bothering to hide your perplexity. 
“Okay,” he says calmly, then he sucks at the curve of your neck, where it meets your shoulder. “I'll be good,” he says, like a promise. 
You're not used to this amount of patience from him, to this pliability. 
He lifts off of you, his thigh still aligned with yours as his torso separates from your back, then suddenly a liquid coldness spreads over your ass cheeks, and you feel him shudder. 
You turn, curiosity picked by that unexpected feeling, and you spot a bottle of lubricant in your peripherals. Makes sense. 
His hands immediately land on your glutes, spreading the liquid, and he hisses as his dick meets the cold. 
Soon, however, the lube is warmed by the heat of your own skin and he finds himself grinding against you, needy and rough. He grabs at your hips guiding you as you move up against him. 
“Touch yourself, Fawn,” he orders, and you don't make him tell you twice. 
The idea of him using your body, and finding pleasure in it, and marking it as his own arouses you desperately.
You want to be his, and you want to pleasure him. You want to be the thought he conjures about next time he's had a rough day and simply wants to jerk off. You want to be the one he dreams about while he's lost in his huge bed, humping a pillow in his sleep. You want to be the reason he's late in the morning because he caught a thought of you in the shower and he couldn't keep his hands to himself. 
Ultimately, you want to be the reason why this accomplished, bright man gets a little messy once in a while.
You want to be the motive behind his little crimes. You want to be his gateway to temporary thoughtlessness. You want him to be as human, as fallible, as exhausted, as despicable as he needs to be and never allows himself to be. 
You wish to liberate him. 
“I'm gonna—” The words die on his lips as he finally spills against you, your orgasm once more incumbent but also far removed, as if that very close destination could only be reached by an impractically long journey. 
You hear him come, disappointed by the lack of closeness between the two of you, by the fact that this position doesn't allow you to kiss his mouth, or quieten him down, or watch him frantically reach for your breast with his lips so he can muffle his cries against your chest. 
“I thought I had more in me,” he says. “I’m sorry.” 
You assume he's referring to this night. Maybe he's done. Maybe he's not thinking about you at all. 
Maybe he just wants to be serviced, and he's realised just now, and you're on your way to be dismissed.
“It's okay,” you tell him, but you're pretty sure your disappointment bled through the words. Your logical brain is telling you that he’s just referring to coming this fast and not dealing with you first, but you’ve discovered you’re not strong on logic when it comes to him. 
Too bad you can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s embarrassed, and breathless, and truly madly deeply blaming himself for putting you through such a sorry mess. 
Such a disappointment. 
He wants to make it up to you. And he starts doing so with slow, gentle kisses on your nape, a gentle caress of his fingertips moving your hair to the side. 
Dammit, he loves your hair. So soft, and always smelling like vanilla. 
It makes him want to keep you on his lap all the time, so he can dive his nose in it when he’s feeling stressed, inhale you and get high from it. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says simply, studying the viola-like shape of your torso, still wrapped in the tight fabric of your dress. His hands glide reverently from the edges of your shoulders to the narrowing of your waist, admiring your back, then slide to your navel, on your front, climbing back up so he can cup the roundness of your breasts. “The geometry of you… If you could see yourself…” 
He can’t ever bring himself to finish one damn thought. The sight of you gives him no reprieve: he’s entirely overstimulated by everything you offer to him, defeated, even, by it. 
His fingers tease your nipples through your dress and your insides clench from it, the kegel ball rolling inside you and making you purr from him. He smiles and brings himself back on track. 
No distractions this time, he scolds himself, and his body bows off of you. He backs up slowly, unrushed pecks of his lips climbing down the ladder of your vertebrae, and in the meanwhile he undoes the handcuffs. 
You would maybe complain if it weren’t for the fact that you trust him with your own pleasure, blindly.
When the salt of his spilled orgasm meets his parted lips, he lets his tongue slip out, giving a full sweep of a lick, lush, wet and hot. 
You shudder. “What you up to?” you ask, surprised, confused, almost coherent. 
“Just a casual snack,” he murmurs against your wet skin. “It’s not like I’m done with you here.”
You chuckle, nervous, but also thankful. Your heartbreak has been postponed. You push your body back, trying to move closer to him in whatever intuitive way you can. You turn your face on the other side as you know that by now there must be an imprint of the carpet against your cheek. 
The blaze coming from the fireplace in the distance warms your face, and once your eyes roll closed, you realise just how pleasant it is to vaguely perceive the orange of the fire from the back of your eyelids. The flames whisper like lovers, like a hushed breathing sound, like exhales and inhales sharply syncopating each other. Then there’s the cracking of the logs, which perfectly echoes and alternates with the sound of Seokjin’s wet kisses, the clicking of his tongue, and the sucking. 
The sensations come in so sharply in the empty space you’ve carved for yourself. It’s like you’ve muted the rest of the world except Seokjin and that eyeless voyeur that is the fire. 
When Seokjin speaks again, it surprises you and causes a somersault to your stomach, for his voice his so deep and quiet and intimate. It’s the sexiest you’ve ever heard from him. 
“Spread your pretty thighs for me, darling.”
You can tell you just gushed out more wetness at your core. That’s what he can get from you, just by using his voice alone. 
As soon as you follow his order, he lays with his back on the floor, the width of his shoulders finding its slot in between your parted knees. His hands find your butt and he uses it to readjust your stance. 
“Won't you give me just a taste, darling, please?” he says, and you adore just how imploring he is, but at the same time smooth and gallant too.
You love it when he asks you, all chivalrous, about treating you like his own personal slut. 
He kisses the inside of your thigh and you find your thighs spreading even further, as you lower your hips a tiny inch closer to the floor — or rather, closer to his awaiting mouth. 
“I swear I'm gonna beg if I have to, Fawn. Fucking please.” 
He twists his head to the other side and bites the soft flesh on the inside of your leg. His teeth sink gently, sending sparks of pleasure all over your body. “Won't you put me out of my misery, darling?” 
“I love it when you beg,” you admit, propping your front up on your elbows first, then on your palms. “It's different from your usual demanding self.”
Your eyes meet his and you notice a spark of uncertainty there. “Do you want me to be harsher? To command you?” 
You smile meekly, fondly. “I like you best precisely the way you are.” 
You can't see it in the penumbra, but heat has crept to his cheeks, and it's mostly your compliments' fault.
He grabs your waist, appreciating how easily his thumb and forefinger rest at its narrowest point, then invites you to lower your pelvis some more.
At this point, you find yourself more comfortable in a kneeling position, your chest lifted, your thighs in a slightly narrower stance as you lower your ass to his chest, your weight still partially held by your hands, propped on the floor near your knees. 
He doesn't speak before he acts. He simply grabs your ass again and zeroes in with his lips on your clitoris. 
Bliss is instantaneous. 
He starts torturing you immediately with long sucking motions, driving you insane, and when you try to remove yourself, he doesn't allow you to. 
Your brain immediately recalls your safeword, but you can't find the final straw that urges you to use it.
You're feeling pleasure— no, actually you are pleasure. 
It blooms from you immediately, six or seven slow, stubborn licks after. You brace yourself for the tide rising, but you can't resist it anyway, and soon you find yourself fucking his face, so sexy as it appears in between your naked parted thighs, your dress still on, hitched up around your waist. 
His eyes are closed, as if he were feeling it too. He’s the picture of passion, entirely dedicated, single-minded about your ecstasy. 
As you’re coming down, you reach for his hair with your left hand, your fingers digging through his luscious locks, tugging just the way he likes, with intention, but also not too roughly. You expect him to back off, but he opens his eyes, stares at your open mouth, at your feverish gaze— and keeps going. 
You swear as he starts veering into overstimulation, his nails digging in your ass. 
Pleasure becomes pain, which feeds pleasure even further. 
Fire blooms inside you, its many tongues setting each of your limbs ablaze. 
The second orgasm comes with a scream — your own — and some moaning from Seokjin which only confirms a certain sense of accomplishment. 
Meanwhile the kegel ball has warmed to your inner heat, your muscles constricting around it in a vicious grip, giving you that fullness that is enough to enhance your pleasure without truly fulfilling it. 
“God, more, please…”
Seokjin chuckles, bathing your inner thighs in soft kisses and sweet little bites. “I love it when you call me god.”
You sit yourself back on his face and giggle. “Oh, shut up.”
His arms tighten like a vice around your legs, his hands pushing your dress further up, exposing the hill of your pelvis, just above the parting of your labia. 
He lands some kisses there, sucking, enjoying the soft, plump skin, and the plumpness he leaves in his wake. 
Heat rushes wild under the flesh he kisses, sensitivity heightened, capillaries blooming with fullness. 
“Lower yourself to the floor, pretty thing,” he hums, and he’s so cruelly persuasive that you obey, your shoulders pressed to the back of your hands, elbows tucked in tight by the sides of your waist. “As low as you can, Fawn,” he recommends. 
Once you do, he gives a powerful swing with his shoulders, causing you to swap positions so that your back ends up on the floor and he is finally on top of you. 
“Back the way it's supposed to be,” he says, at once free to exercise all the control he needs. “I'm not even sure I need you naked,” he says, kissing your navel, the crests of your hips, the junction between your thighs and your hips. 
He lifts the hem of your dress, the stretchy knit giving him room to stick his head under the fabric. 
He attaches himself to your nipple as soon as he finds it, his hand climbing up to your chest and starting to toy with your other breast. 
“You could also undress me, you know,” you tease him, but apparently he is really busy and your spine is arching off the floor, and you can feel the wetness of his mouth against the precious lace of your bra. 
“Shut up,” he says, his voice lost in bliss, and he's moving the cup of your bra just below your breast, baring your nipple. “I'll be busy for the next three working days. Do not call me, email me, or text me. I'm worshipping nipples.” 
You laugh and you suddenly clench at the way the laughing twists the sensation of his sucking your breast, making it a fluttery and yet intense feeling. 
He gets his head out of your dress and kisses your neck instead. “I really like this dress,” he tells you. “I also really like the lack of panties, though that must have been slightly uncomfortable.” 
“It felt a little bit weird, yes. I was afraid I was going to flash someone.” 
He chuckles, then freezes. “You might have. Are you sure you haven't?” 
Feeling him all serious, you become serious too. “I don't know?” You start worrying a little. Would that be a violation to the rules of the club? 
“You're telling me someone else might have seen this?” He cups your vulva with his hand, and the pressure is mind-numbing. It takes you maybe two or three seconds to respond, your thoughts like arrows that deviate their trajectory towards your crotch. 
“Seokjin, I—” 
He sticks two fingers inside you and tightens his grip on you. “Fawn. This. This belongs to me. Okay?” 
You shiver at how stern he sounds. “Yes.”
“Do you understand?” 
“Yes, I do.”
Seokjin nods to himself. “Good. Now get out of this damn dress.” 
“You, get out of your clothes too,” you order, trying to be just as stern, but he laughs at you, rubbing your G-spot inside you. 
“I think your silly, sex-addled brain got confused.” He grips your face with his free hand, squishing your cheeks together. “I tell you what to do, Fawn. And you do it.” 
You're taken aback by just how patronising his words are. How silly and insignificant they make you feel. How even wetter you get. 
You arch off the carpet and slip your dress off, tugging and pulling, until your body is finally free. 
Seokjin studies the way the fire dances on your skin, the way your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breathing. 
“Good girl, Fawn.” He leans over and kisses your breast, then gives a fat lick to the sensitive skin before blowing over it in a way that makes you shiver. “So fucking sensitive.” 
He's beginning to undo his shirt, towering over you as he sits up on his knees and lets his fingers make a quick work of the buttons, his teal satin shirt coming undone quickly. 
He manages to shrug it off easily, the expanse of his chest finally emerging in front of you. He notices how enchanted you are by it, how mesmerised. 
The contrast between the fairness of his skin and the raspberry pink of his nipples is stark and seductive. You now understand colour theory and why animals always eat at the brightest-coloured fruit. 
You sit up, leaning on your hands, your mouth searching for his chest, but with a finger pressed to your sternum he pushes you back down. 
“Sit still for a second, for fuck’s sake,” he scolds you, then tries to get rid of his trousers, which proves to be truly challenging in a kneeling position. 
He tuts, frustrated, then convinces himself to stand back up, finally pushing his trousers and briefs down, shimmying out of them too in an attempt to get naked faster. 
You’re already on your knees in front of him, waiting, lips parted, hoping he’s going to use your mouth for his pleasure, and you try to invite him to, kissing his thigh, caressing it with your teeth, then giving it a kittenish lick. 
He grabs you by the cheeks, then forces you to look up at him. “I thought you were a smart, obedient girl, Fawn. Are you not?”
You’re still kneeling in front of him, mouth parted, eyes wide aimed at his face. You try to appear as dollish and harmless as possible. 
“I wouldn’t like to think wanting to get fucked turned you into a silly girl, mh?”
He’s so hard, right in front of you, and the sphere inside you is not enough, not anymore. You need him moving in and out of you. You need fullness, you need to be more than what you can take. 
You need him rough, needy, harsh, unforgiving, relentless and fastidiously specific about how he wants to fuck you.
You can almost put your mouth on him. Almost. 
You frown. “Please,” you whine, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. 
He smiles, then snorts. “So desperate…”
Your inner muscles flutter at his cocky tone. 
He kneels back, at your same height. “Spread your legs, love,” he tells you, and you keen at the pet name, which makes him caress your cheek fondly. “Come on, let me fuck you, Fawn.”
You part your knees further and his hand slips from your cheeks to your chin, then to your neck, gripping it suggestively, then caresses your breast and follows the axis of your midriff, twirls around your navel and settles at your pubis. 
You wet your lips again, your breath caught in your throat, your gaze tantalised by the movement of his hands. 
He spreads your labia, covering his fingers in your wetness, then he dives for your entrance, catching the sphere inside and helping it out. 
“You should be warm and stretched now, right?” he asks you, then brings the toy to his mouth. 
You stare at him, daring him to do exactly what he does next. He opens his mouth and takes a lick at the ball, tasting you. 
“This wet cause I made you come?” he asks, and you nod, stunned. He brings the sphere to your nipple and rubs it against your breast gently, drawing a small circle on it. “Sweet,” he coos, then sucks your freshly moistened nipple in his mouth.
You moan like you never have, your hips starting to move in an attempt to grind against something. 
You’re almost on the edge by the time he releases your skin from his lips. “Seokjin,” you beg, grabbing his hair and combing it back. “Please, Seokjin, I need it. I need it.”
He sits on his heels, his free hand landing on the small of your back and pulling you closer. “Come close, Fawn. I want to look into your eyes as you take it.”
Your frown can’t even begin to express how desperate you feel. You want him, now, and you’re about to have him. But a part of you is suddenly remembering that you’ll have to let go of him again at the end of the night. 
You shake off the bad thoughts and take him in your hand, but he swats it away. 
“When I say so,” he scolds you, so you place your hands on his shoulders for leverage and when you’re ready to sit on his lap, he grips himself steady and aims his tip at your entrance. 
“Can’t wait to hear you moan as I fill you up, love.”
You bite your lip and the head of his dick slips in effortlessly, smooth and hot. 
A sigh of relief leaves your throat and he smiles. “Goddamn, so warm,” he whispers, then gives you a few more inches — just three or four. Not yet all of them. 
“How does it feel, my Fawn?” he speaks softly. “Still hungry for more?”
You nod, feeling just how full, how magnificent it feels to have more, and to know there’s more to take. 
“You really needed my dick, mh?” He gives you one more inch and you start wincing, just a little. It’s thick and it’s warm, and it feels so right to squeeze it with your muscles, your orgasm starting to build. 
Seokjin looses control for a moment, and that’s all it takes for him to conclude his stroke, sinking all the way to the hilt. 
A gasp escapes you and he seems surprised too. 
He blinks a few times, then his gaze seems to focus on you. “Hello,” he says, with a large smile. “Fawn, I guess I needed inside you just as bad as you did.”
You chuckle and he grips the back of your neck and dives to kiss you. 
The tang of your taste is strong on his tongue, but you don’t dislike it. The kiss is soft, gentle, unrushed and tender. 
“Let me know when I can move,” he tells you. 
You nod. 
“Touch yourself,” he orders you, then starts stroking for real. 
He’s deep and slow, like he’s keeping himself in check, aiming at you coming undone. 
Which you do, in record time, moaning like you’ve never had good sex in your entire life, and at this point you’ve come to suspect so. 
You’ve given yourself good sex. You’ve splurged on a good realistic dildo, and you’ve learnt to fuck yourself right with it, but when Seokjin moves inside you, you doubt you truly ever reached ecstasy in your decades of existence. 
When you do come, it’s his name you scream, shameless, loud, and you don’t care since the entire building is made of people who are in several different states of erotic debauchery. 
Seokjin is proud, fulfilled, your pleasure finally achieved. 
He can now focus on his now. 
He recovers the kegel ball he slipped out of you, still hooked on his finger by the strap, and brings it in front of you. “I might get rough.” He seems unsure, and cheeky too, as he adds, ”How do you feel about a muffler?”
Your eyes widen. You think about it for a millisecond, then it seems obvious. “Go ahead,” you tell him, then open your mouth. 
“God, I love you,” he says. 
And you both stop. 
“Shit, I mean—” Seokjin is panicking. 
“I know,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him. 
He seems like he didn’t mean it. Not like that, at least. “I love this. Between us,” he adds
And you can agree about that. “I do, too.” 
He seems conflicted, unresolved. “Fill my mouth then fill me up, Seokjin. It’s not complicated.”
It really is, because you want all the feelings that come with this, and that are plenty more complicated than two hours of giving and taking everything you need for yourselves. It’s more than getting rid of tension and snatching all the pleasure you can.
He’s still hesitating, so you nudge the sphere with your nose and chin until you manage to catch it with your mouth. 
Both his hands are free now and he decides to grab your ass immediately, shoving your hips back down on him. “Damn right,” he grunts. 
He’ll give you what you want, he’s decided. Everything you want. He’ll keep to himself the complicated bits. 
You hum a short, clipped sound as he lifts you just a little and pulls you down again. Again, even faster than before. 
You start getting his pattern, cooperating as he gets more frantic, more forceful. 
Saliva is starting to gather in your mouth, the ball making it too difficult to swallow. You’re getting messy, and you decide to get messier still, to fuck the worries out of his brain, out of your own too. 
You’re glad he’s flexible, because you manage to make him shift from a lotus position to a rowdy cowgirl. There you go faster still, and he’s gasping your name, staring at your breasts, gripping them, slapping them too as they dangle over his face. 
You clench on him as he does, and he whines even louder. 
It makes you territorial, and maybe sadistic, because next thing you know, you’re removing the toy from your mouth and placing it on the floor — it is no longer welcome in your and Seokjin’s little game. 
Now it’s only the two of you, and may the strongest opponent win. 
You trace his pout with your fingers, and he parts his lips easily. Your middle and ring finger slip inside, and he lets you open his mouth wider. 
You lean over him, lower yourself to him, closer, your bellies sticking together, your hips still pistoning on him. 
Your tongue and cheeks are still coated in the thick wetness and saliva from the improvised gag-ball, so you just leave your lips agape and the thick liquid plops out, from your tongue on his. 
His eyes go wide and he grows more frantic still, going desperate while he licks his lips clean. “God, Fawn. Please,”
“Oh, did the tables turn…”
He smiles a desperate smile, begging you with his eyes. You allow him the final squeeze of your kegels, and he finally, finally comes. 
His arms wrap around you like vines, like he’s ivy, and he depends on you, needs you, wants to cling to your forever. 
He starts pushing from below and it’s a punishment divine and sinful at the same time. 
It shouldn’t feel this good, and yet it does, so you take it as best as you can. 
It feels like stealing, and you’re not sure you’re okay when he slips out. “A quick break, let me recover,” he begs. “Not done though.”
Seokjin is great at recovering, this one you’ve learnt. Maybe he doesn’t jerk off by himself. Maybe he keeps himself at bait so he can go all out when he’s with you. 
Nevertheless, he takes ten or so minutes to himself, where he just lays with you on top of him, his dick inside you, softening, while he strokes your body. 
“I don’t know what I meant with what I said earlier,” he admits. 
“We don’t need to talk about this right now,” you tell him, and maybe you’re just trying to save your poor little heart. Sure, saying you love him would be an exaggeration, but you definitely like this man, and you like his heart, his personality, and most importantly, the way he treats you and understands your needs. 
“I feel like we should.” He’s caressing your spine. “I—”
“Why did your ex-wife let go of you? How did she give up on sex this good? How did she get this and not…? Stay?” You ask. And you need the answer. Maybe that will make you swallow the lump in your throat. He wants to discuss difficult topics? Then let’s do that. 
“I—” He’s clearly caught by surprise. “I was not like this. With her. With other women.” His hand stops, resting on the curve of your ass. “We were just… No longer in love with each other. We still love each other, but we don’t long for each other anymore. We love each other for the three beautiful lives we created together, for our family, for the memories, but we don’t… We want to build different paths. And that’s fair.”
You nod, then settle back on his chest, drawing patterns on it with your fingers. He’s starting to stir inside you, you can tell. Feeling him awaken like this is fulfilling, arousing too. “And you let go?”
“We did.” He squeezes your butt fondly. “We— Me and my ex didn’t have sex often. I needed it, I guess, but I never asked. She didn’t seem to want it. Passion was never part of the equation.”
“But three kids? I—”
“We wanted a big family. She did, especially. But it’s not like we tried a lot. We were just lucky. And I don’t regret that, not even a second. After Daisy we stopped altogether. We were basically celibate for more than a year.”
You nod, then look at him. “So this thing with me is like—?”
He chuckles, his hips shifting in a way that tells you he’s ready again, or soon will be. “This is the most selfish and passionate I’ve been in the last five years. I guess that’s why I said what I said earlier.” He’s blushing, eyes averted. “But that doesn’t mean I value you only for selfish reasons.” He forces himself to look at you again. “I actually like you a lot. But I don’t know what to do because stuff gets complicated when you have kids, especially young kids like mine.”
You nod some more. “You like me?!” You say after three seconds, tires screeching in your brain as you process his words. 
He smiles, his laugh rippling from his stomach to yours. “Yeah, that one sure. Pretty sure about it, yeah.”
“And—”
“And I waited this long to tell you because I wanted to be sure, but also because I wanted to be sure it meant something to you too. I wanted to feel safe with you.” He smooths your hair by your temple, removing a strand that was obstructing your eye. “I wanted to have sex when I was sure you meant something for me. I think sex is something meaningful. Important. I wanted to get there step by step.”
You rise from his chest, stare at him, confused, like your world has been just flipped inside out. “I thought you didn’t—”
“I did.” He chuckles, just a little, then places a hand on your waist and flips the two of you upside down. 
He’s on top of you, and he’s got a point to prove. “Last time I really did. I was this close,” he says, and he strokes out, then in, slowly.
You moan his name, and he dives to your lips. “Such a pretty way to moan for me, Fawn. Telling everyone who’s fucking this sweet, warm, cosy pussy.” He stops once he bottoms out and speaks through gritted teeth: “As I was saying before you interrupted me, I really wanted to, last time. I was sure I was going to get your number and invite you for dinner afterwards. But the babysitter and fucking lice and—”
You laugh. He’s fucking you so good and yet you end up talking about mundane stuff and he’d so handsome above you but you really want him to take you from behind — your mind is frazzled. 
“I wanted to fuck you and keep you till morning, and then get you breakfast, and ask you for a date.”
Your heartbeat stumbles. “A date?”
He stops. “God. Don’t tell me you—” He slips out. “You don’t… Uhm. It’s— You don’t see me like that, right?”
He seems defeated, embarrassed too, maybe, but mostly lost.
“Oh, not that!” You rush to clarify, “I mean, I do! I do see you like that, I mean!” You grab him by the shoulders, then cup the sides of his neck and kiss him, because you’re making a mess and you know that you’re going to kiss him right and show him just how much this means to you. 
“I love that you waited to have sex with me.” You caress his face. “It meant a lot, because I don’t think I was ready to have sex straight away.”
“I wanted to since I first saw you,” he says, and you kiss him some more, to show him you like what he’s telling you, that you want him to keep going. “But I needed time to process just what I wanted, and how.”
“I noticed you staring.”
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I wanted to be matched with you so bad, but I was scared we wouldn’t combine. Maybe we were incompatible.”
You smile. “I’m so glad this is happening.”
He slips an arm underneath your back and helps you up, until you’re both sitting up again, your chin resting on his shoulder, and you’re about to abandon yourself in his arms when you notice something in a corner of the room. 
“Hold up,” you tell him. 
He pulls back, looking you in the face. “What’s wrong?” 
You shake your head, then kiss him softly, gingerly. “Just wait.”
You rise and let him slip out of you, his dick deliciously covered in your and his cum. 
He watches you rise and follows you with his gaze, studying the way the fire dances on the planes of your skin. His mouth waters. “Fawn, love, no need to—”
“Yes!” you exclaim, then he notices you’re moving a full-length mirror closer to your alcove by the fireplace. It’s a wheeled mirror, which can be rolled around to better be included in the scene. You place it in front of Seokjin, who studies you standing beside it, then looks at his reflection. “I wanted this so bad,” you tell him, “but I wanted to look you in the eye and I don’t like the fact that you gotta face away for it.”
You sit in front of him, then turn your back to him and head back to your position on all fours, just like you started. 
Seokjin shakes his head. “I’ve never understood doggy before hitting it with you,” he says, his hands skating down your sides. 
He slips in and you both hiss, but pleasure rises faster than pain. The first stroke is heaven already. “I’m gonna be fucking you like this for weeks to come.”
“I’m gonna hold you accountable for that,” you tease. 
He nods, then wraps an arm around you, his hand sprawled against your sternum, and he pulls you up, with your back against his chest. 
He can feel your crazed heartbeat, and you can feel his against your spine. 
“I’m gonna get rough, Fawn.” He bites your neck, not aggressively, but with passion. “Fuck, you make me wild.” He jabs into you. “With your pretty eyes.” Once more. “And your pretty, dirty mouth.” He slides out, then stuffs himself back in and you gasp. “And the way you get dumb and filthy when you need to come.” His hand climbs to your throat, without gripping, just a gentle warm caress, as if to protect it, and help you hold your head upright. “The way you mix innocence and debauchery.” It’s like he’s trying to burrow himself inside you, swallowing your frame into his. “You’re a delight of a little bitch.”
You’re touching yourself now, and he stares at it in the mirror, at the frantic circles of your fingers on your clitoris, at the way your tits wiggle at his thrusts.
Your lips are parted wide, and you’re starting to fall, he can tell, your eyes closing slowly. You’re fluttering for him, inside, and he’s gritting his teeth, plunging inside you more furiously. “Come on, come for me, my little bitch. Show me how much you love this dick.”
And so you do.
He thanks you softly and compliments you as you start coming apart for him, his own pleasure coming together and unraveling at last as you both spiral into each other. 
It’s apotheosis, the way you melt into each other, your essence becoming one. It’s completion. It’s finality. It’s your destination. 
You’re both left panting, exhausted, and this time you’re not sure Seokjin will recover as easily as he had before. 
“Holy smokes,” you exhale, and he meets your eyes in the mirror. His cheeks are adorably flushed, and his eyes are dark and drowsy. He’s still panting. “Very worth it. Every second.”
“Kudos for the mirror. Excellent idea.”
“We need to add that to the list.”
“Definitely.”
He kisses a spot near the hollow of your throat, nibbling the skin there just right. 
He stays buried inside you still, and has pretty much no intention of getting out. 
“Are you alright?” he asks you, his fingers skimming your belly, caressing you, but also trying to keep you warm. He wants to grab a robe for you, but he doesn't want to be detached from you yet. 
“I'm just fine,” you reassure him, rubbing his thigh to comfort him. 
“Was it too rough?” he asks and you shake your head immediately. 
“Are you kidding? It was just perfect!” you tell him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 
He stays quiet for a while then says, “Are we okay with… With what I said earlier? About… About feelings?” 
You blink repeatedly. “I think…” You pause. “I think it's fair, what you feel. And—” You shake your head and giggle. “I hope you did mean to ask me on a date.”
He chuckles, then wraps his arms more tightly around you. “Breakfast. The girls are with their mom tonight, we could sleep here—” He kisses a sweet spot at your nape— “Or not sleep at all,” he suggests, “and wake up in the morning and go for breakfast.” He contemplates the option, studying your face in the mirror. “It's up to you, my beautiful Fawn.”
You just shake your head yes, smiling brightly.
“I need to be clear from the start, though. If my situation with my terminated marriage, and with my kids scares you or disturbs you in any way, I would like to know it right now.” 
You shake your head vigorously. “I'm okay with that, as long as you're sure you're ready to try this for real.” You feel your eyes grow avoidant and your cheeks heat as you add, “I must admit, Seokjin, that I got it quite bad for you. If you were in this with no intention of things getting serious, I think I would be—” You search for the word. “I'd be disappointed. Strongly.”
He nods, then swallows you in his frame, your torso and his like two juxtaposed crescents. “I'm looking for something real. Something passionate and steady and reliable. Someone I can be a man with, a friend, and a father, and a partner too. I need someone for myself. Someone who can be mine, but also someone I can belong to.”
You nod then turn to look him in the eye, your bodies still spooned. You stretch to his lips and he kisses you, his eyes staring at your mouth before it goes out of focus.
It's immediately a matter of tongues and wetness and sucking, with just the right amount of teeth. His hands lose their peaceful rest and return to tantalising, seductive touches, veering south. 
“Already?” you purr against his mouth, a slow smile already crumbling. 
“You've got no idea what you started,” he says, tempting. 
You chuckle, your laugh and his mixing. And you tell him, “Show me.” 
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More in this AU | MYG | KNJ
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sageteapost · 1 year
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hello!
May I request that you do a cloud strife x reader where the reader uses duel blades? These blades actually have short range and long range attacks and ( with enough force) can propel the reader forward? I would like them to meet in the scene where Jessie is seeing Biggs and wedge on bikes, but they see an extra bike and that’s the readers? The whole scene plays out and the reader is super badass, pulling enemy’s back with their duel blades and throwing them into a wall. Then after, they talk a bit and find out that they are a SOLDIER aswell..? IDK if this could be written so I’m sorry I’m advance if it can’t so feel free to tell me if you can’t!
| Cloud Strife & A Dual Blade User Reader |
[ Cloud Strife x GN! Reader ]
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TW & CW + Tags: Violence (not super detailed). Mentions of firearms and blades. Reader is a SOLDIER as well. [No relationship mentioned. GN! Reader.]
Summary: A small fic of Cloud Strife meeting the reader who uses duel blades and eventually finds out that they are also a SOLDIER as well.
[(A/N): Hey there anon! My apologies for the late reply to your request. Not gonna lie, the reader gives off a bit of Ignis Scientia from Final Fantasy XV! I was in a mood to write a small fic for this one. I'm not sure if you wanted a fic request, if not let me know! As always, enjoy!]
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"Looks like we got more company!" cries Jessie, Shinra infantrymen catching up close behind the others. The smell of rubber creating friction on the road was strong, and the roar of the motorcycle echos throughout the tunnel. "Quit moving around, or you'll fall off the bike," Cloud says while maintaining full attention on the lit road ahead of him.
"Hey Cloud! Take care of them, will ya?!" Biggs yells as Wedge holds onto Biggs for dear life. "We cannot let them ruin the mission!" Cloud hums in acknowledgement, making a cue for Jessie to take over driving the bike. She responds swiftly, and Cloud makes a leap onto onto one of the infantry's bikes and quickly taking him out.
"You!! Avalanche scum!" shouts an infantrymen, moving his bike closer towards Cloud so he can strike.
"Not so fast!"
A sharp object swiftly flys into the back of the man, earning a shout of pain from him and losing control of his bike.
Cloud makes a face of confusion for a moment, but before he could do anything he hears a motorbike pull up from behind, breaking him from his thoughts. "You guys abandoned me back at the meeting place! I was looking for y'all everywhere!"
Cloud turns to his left, and he sees you. As you're fighting one last infantrymen with your blades, your (H/C) hair lights up from the bright overhead lights in the tunnel, your mako green eyes are as sharp as a hawk, and he notices the daggers on your side as you slam the infantrymen hard into the wall.
The biggest thing he notices instantly however, is your outfit. A SOLDIER uniform, actually.
"Sorry (Y/N)! I thought you were right behind us the whole time," Jessie says with a sheepish laugh. "Glad you caught up with us! You would have missed out on our SOLDIER boy there! He's badass, don't you think?"
You turn your head slightly towards Cloud, making eye contact with his mako green eyes. Cracking a small smile, you reply, "Oh no, I saw. He's pretty good!"
Cloud quickly shifts his eyes back to the road. "C'mon. We're almost at the end of the tunnel."
"Right. Let's get a move on!" Jessie shouts out with pure energy.
...
Mission success! Now it was time to get the hell out of there and go home. Before you could drive off on your bike, Cloud stops you.
"Nice job back there."
You look at him in confusion, before replying with a smile. "Thanks, just what I do. I could say the same thing about you too." Cloud hums quietly, before asking, "...You're a SOLDIER, aren't you?"
Your smile drops just a tad bit and your eyes drift away from his. "That obvious, huh?"
"It's the uniform. And the trademark mako eyes."
"Right. Figured you should have known, since you are one too."
"Ex-SOLDIER. I'm just a mercenary now. I quit a long time ago."
You chuckle lightly, the cool night breeze of Midgar brushes away a strand of your hair. You look up towards a mako reactor, its bright light beaming up into the night sky. "It's getting late. We should go home," you say.
"Right," Cloud adds moving away from your bike and hopping on to his own and starting the engine.
"Wait," hearing your voice and looks up. "I never got your name. Who knows? We might meet again someday."
Cloud stays quiet for a moment. Only the sound of the humming engine fills the brief silence between the two of you. And with that, he finally replies.
"...Cloud. Cloud Strife."
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nex-ture · 11 months
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Kisaki Tetta x male reader
Where they are childhood friends and Kisaki always had a crush on him but thought the reader would be disgusted so he never confessed
Until kisaki is in the hospital after Tenjiku (let's pretend he survived) and the reader storms into the room full on crying
Kisaki x Male Reader
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Sometimes I forget I have a blog..this request is over a year old. When I got this request, I was an anime only, and now I've read the whole manga. I do love Kisaki, though, so I'm excited to write this!
This is my first actual fic in like..a year so, I'm sorry this is shitty. I also might have accidentally switched from 2nd person to 3rd..I did that a lot and had to fix it, though might have missed some.
MAJOR SPOILER WARNING: Tenjiku Arc
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Y/n wasn't someone who really stuck out within a crowd of people. His grades were average, and nothing was really exciting about his homelife. Yet he was somehow friends with the overachiever of his class, Kisaki Tetta. Everyone knew who Kisaki was. They just didn't care. He was the nerdy little kid who's only personality trait seemed to be cowering away from any and all problems.
Kisaki and y/n were very close, and it wasn't rare for Kisaki to invite y/n over to his house for playdates or to help y/n study for the upcoming quiz. Kisaki yearned for the awaiting "Yes" every time he asked his friend. He loved hanging out with y/n more than he loved hanging out with Hinata. It was a strange feeling for him. He knew he "loved" Hinata, but, y/n?
It took a long time for Kisaki to finally come to terms with the fact that he truly did like y/n as more than a friend. He'd never really had a crush on a guy before. He never even considered two guys dating.
Even though he'd figured out his feelings, there was no way in hell he'd tell y/n how he felt. Y/n has been with him through everything. He didn't want this stupid crush to be the reason he lost his best friend.
Y/n was there for him when he was banned from Toman. He listened as Kisaki ranted about how this ruined his plans. His plans of getting Hinata and ruining Takemichis life. It saddened to y/n hear him gush about all the work he was putting towards some girl he barely even knew, but y/n would always listen.
Kisaki loved the way y/n would always listen. It seemed like y/n would follow him to the end of the world, and all he had to do was ask and ask he did. Kisaki asked y/n to join Tenjiku with him and take down Mikey. Of course, y/n didn't even give it a second thought. He immediately followed behind Kisaki.
Though the events of Tenjiku vs. Toman were not in Tenjikus favor. The death of Izana came, and to the blame of none other than Kisaki. He didn't mean to shoot Izana. He swears on it. Kisaki stayed down on the floor as Hanma came around with his bike. Y/n watched as they road off, Takemichi in tow.
Y/n quickly ran off, knowing an ambulance, and the police would be there soon. There was no point in sticking around. He had to wait patiently to hear what happened with Kisaki, after getting back home he had texted the blonde but got no response.
He knew Kisaki had the gun with him. There was no way he was in any danger. He was also with Hanma, who was well known for fighting others with no good reason.
Yet the same week, he got a dreadful call from Hanma. He could've sworn he stopped breathing when he heard Kisaki was in the hospital. He was hit by some distracted driver. If Takemichi hadn't called an ambulance, the doctors were sure it would have been fatal.
As soon as the call ended, y/n hopped off his bike and headed over to the address Hanma had sent him. Making his way through the hospital and check-ins was stressing him more out by the minute. The only thought in his head was, "Is Tetta okay?".
Finally, he could go in to visit his friend after what felt like a year. Kisaki laid staring up at the ceiling, and now the door as y/n walked in. He couldn't describe in words how happy he was to see the boy. He was fighting back tears as he tried to read what the other was thinking, how pitiful he probably looked.
Broken bones, he was broken, in body and in spirit. Y/n didn't even notice he was crying until the tears fell. He quickly went over to Kisaki, closing the door behind him. He placed his hand on Kisaki's shoulder as he saw the condition the other was in. It was hell for him. "I'm so sorry.. I wasn't there for you."
The only words he could muster out came in a low whisper as he laid his head in the crook of Kisaki's neck. Tears filling up his own eyes at the sight of y/n crying...over him? They'd been together so long that he didn't realize how much y/n actually cared about him.
His breath grew heavier as he cried loudly. He was never one to be quiet when crying. It was like he was 8 again, crying over some half asses delinquents who came to beat y/n and him up. They never even got to lay a finger on him. Yet he cried every time because they were hurting...y/n.
Y/n had always been there to protect him. He wanted to protect his friend, but the only thing he seemed to have focused on was Hinata Tachibana. When y/n was there for him the whole time. She was the only woman who spoke to him, but y/n was the only guy who cared about him.
"I.. I'm sorry.." he spoke slowly, the accident didn't come without its permanent damages. His crying slowed as y/n lifted his head to look at his. "I..I love.. you, " Tetta muttered out the phrase as the tears started up again.
His mind started racing. Why did he say that? He was going to lose his friend. He was a freak, yet why was y/n smiling...why was y/n laughing...why was y/n still touching him? "I love you so much, Tetta." Y/n always knew exactly what to tell him. He needed y/n in his life to be happy.
He turned his head slowly in y/ns direction as they stood up from his hospital bed. "R... really? This..whole time I...I thought you would leave m...me for saying that.." his words slurred as his stutter, he couldn't tell if it was from the accident or the fact his heart was beating out of his ass.
"I wanted to confess for so long -" Y/ns laughter died down as they spoke. "-but you were always talking about Hinata, so I never knew how." Y/n looked down at Kisaki with a soft smile. Tettas tears slowed as he grabbed onto y/ns hand. "I'm so h...happy." Tettas' smile was faint, but it was there. Maybe something good did come out of this terrible situation..
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revasserium · 6 months
Note
CONGRATS RAIN!!!!!!!!!
also heavy breathing bc before i even opened the "keep reading" i was like. i hope pride and prejudice is on the list T______T and there she is ..... #1
i will kindly ask for osamu x pride and prejudice pls & thank u 🤲
pride and prejudice
osamu miya; 2,952 words; fluff, childhood friends to lovers, volleyball player!reader, fem!reader, general cuteness
summary: osamu has known you for longer than he can remember.
a/n: @starrysamu remmyyy thank u!!! and thank u for sending this prompt omfg i actually loved writing it so much u__u i hope u enjoy and yES ofc i couldn't leave miss p&p off this list!!! though the fic has nothing to do with the actual book LOL i hope you like it regardless <3
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one.
you have known each other for longer than he can remember.
longer (osamu is convinced) than the summer days. longer (he is still convinced) than the winter nights. longer than the length of a volleyball court, than the glistening white lines that separate the game from everything else beyond it.
you’ve always been small, but you’d never let that stop you. and perhaps it’s this more than anything that grates at osamu’s consciousness — the sheer stubbornness of you. and he knows a thing or two about being stubborn — have you met his twin brother?
but no — you’d insisted, at the tiny, peculiar age of four, that you’d found volleyball first. as if it were something to discovered, like electricity or the new world. even though osamu knows better, knows that volleyball has always been there, just like he knows that atsumu will always try to steal the last popsicle in the freezer and that the sky will always turn blue again after even an entire week’s worth of rain.
“shorty’s can’t play volleyball, y’know,” he drawls, watching you with his head cocked, casually kicking his feet as they dangle from the edge of a low-rise bridge, the summer having reduced the usually hearty waterway to a trickling stream. you stand on the banks, panting, bruises like badges of honor blooming across your knees as you bounce a large ball along your forearms, over and over and over again.
osamu follows the trajectory with half-lidded eyes, his heartbeat ticking inside him like a time-bomb.
“says who?!” you demand, squeaking as the ball bonks off your head, making your eyes water.
osamu hums, caught between morbid amusement and a true, burgeoning curiosity as you dash off after the worn old volleyball.
“says… everyone, duh. tall people play volleyball… shortys…” he trails off, casting his eyes up at the first flickering stars as they wink into existence along the far horizon, “i dunno… shorty’s probably make ramen or riceballs or something like that.”
“samuuuu! it’s dinner time!” the clank of their old bike alerts osamu to his twin’s appearance, even as atsumu screeches to a halt the foot of the bridge, looking between osamu and you, now cradling the ball in your arms, your eyes bright and sharp as — yes, osamu thinks, bright as the evening stars.
“c’mon,” osamu says, hoisting himself up and jerking his head towards his brother.
“don’t wanna,” you say, stomping a foot as you turn resolutely away from him even as he rolls his tiny, four-year old eyes.
“don’t be stupid. kaa-chan made taimeshi —”
“oh! my favorite!”
osamu smirks as you bound up to meet them, his previous slights apparently long forgotten as you race off down the road, shouting over your shoulder that the last person there has to do the dishes. atsumu shrieks and nearly topples the bike chasing after you, leaving osamu to sigh and jog slowly after the two of you.
he wonders how long it’ll take before you outgrow this weird new obsession with volleyball. but then again, watching you play, it did seem like fun.
maybe, he’ll even give it a try one day.
two.
you’ve got a solid 10 centimeters on him by the time he and atsumu make it to the starting lineup in their middle school team. by then, you’d already been the star for an entire season, what with your boundless energy and your painful determination.
he’s seen you at school games, but of course he has — streaking along the sides of the court, jumping high enough to convince half the stadium that gravity does indeed play favorites.
“anddd… inarizaki middle takes another stunning victory over the girls at shukugawa tech! that number 11 is really someone to watch!”
he meets you after the match with a cold pocari sweat and a bag of caramel candies.
“you’re dropping your elbows on your spikes again,” he says, even as atsumu smacks both his palms into yours in celebration.
you pause, wiping at your face with the towel dangling around your neck.
“shaddap! we won, didn’t we?”
osamu sighs, “guess you did.”
“so, when’s your first game?”
osamu sniffs as he tries to keep the blush from crawling too far up his neck as he looks away.
“tomorrow afternoon.”
atsumu jabs a thumb into his chest with a cheeky grin, “you gonna be there to watch us cream the other team?”
“course i will!” you say as you flash them a smile that has osamu wondering if, just like gravity, perhaps the sun plays favorites too.
three.
the twins grow nearly a head and a half over one summer before high school and you’re inconsolable for weeks.
“it’s not fair!”
osamu sighs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes for the twelfth time that night as you smack another ball across the net and toss another for him to set.
ba-bam! thump thump thump.
“guys and girls grow different… it’s not like it’s a secret or anything —”
ba-bam! thump thump thump.
osamu catches the next ball you toss for him, straightening to shake his sweaty bangs from his eyes.
“you’re dropping your elbows again. and you’re pulling back too hard on your swing — you’re gonna throw out your shoulder if —”
“what’s it matter anyway?!”
your voice is loud enough to echo, even in the giant gymnasium, even with all the doors thrown open to let in the autumn breeze. osamu doesn’t miss your fingers curled into fists at your sides, he doesn’t miss the tremor in your voice like the first rumble of thunder before a summer storm.
“it matters cause if you injure yourself, you’re not gonna be able to play —”
“i — i haven’t grown since i was twelve years old! w-what’s it matter if i get hurt o-or if i can’t keep playing? it’s only a matter of time before i’m too short —”
“fine then. quit.”
your head jerks up, your eyes wide and watery as you stare at him. the ball falls out of your grip and bounces, listless, once, twice, three-four-five times against the waxed wooden floor before rolling to a stop against one of the padded net poles.
osamu shrugs, feeling suddenly too cold and too hot all at once as something he thinks might be anger roils in the depths of his stomach, and then all he wants to do is scream and run laps around the building till this inexplicable fire inside him goes out.
instead, he turns away from your piercing, accusatory gaze and starts picking up volleyballs, casually tossing them up and setting them back into the big blue ball bin.
“osamu… you giant fucking asshole!”
bomph-thwack — something smacks against the back of his head so hard his vision goes blurry. but before he has the strength to whip around and look for you, you’d already gone, racing out of the gym, leaving osamu utterly bewildered as he raises a hand to touch the bump already rising at the back of his head.
“ow… what the fuck was that?!”
later that night, when he recounts the tale to atsumu, who’d spent a solid fifteen minutes laughing at the fact that he’d gotten nailed in the head by a girl, atsumu had pinned him with a flatlined look and said —
“well, ya kinda did deserve it.”
to which osamu had responded by promptly shoving atsumu’s face into a pillow and holding it there.
four.
you don’t quit volleyball, because of course you don’t. and osamu knows you well enough by now to know that you run on a combination of energy drinks and spite. but you don’t talk to him for weeks, and that sucks more than he quite has the words to explain.
so he doesn’t. and he doesn’t.
atsumu is the first one to notice, but then when kita-san finds him in the lockers one day to ask him what’s wrong, osamu thinks that it must be more serious than he’d thought.
he finds you practicing by the river, his footsteps slowing as he pauses to watch the shape of you silhouetted against the setting sun, the ball bouncing up in perfect rhythm as you bend at the knees and bop it back up, again and again and again.
he allows himself a smile as he makes his way over and plops down in the grass.
“your shoulders are getting tense again.”
you don’t answer, don’t even show any sign that you’d heard him, expect for the near imperceptible drop in your shoulders as you force them down the second before the ball makes contact with your outstretched arms.
bomph-bomph-bomph
the ball goes up and up and up again.
you don’t turn to look at him so osamu takes a deep breath and casts his eyes up at the darkening sky.
“it was a shit thing to say. i’m s —”
“we’re playing shiratorizawa this weekend.”
you both speak at the same time.
bomph-bomph-bomph
osamu jerks upright to stare at you.
“shiratorizawa? aren’t they in miyagi? what are they doing here?”
you bump the ball way up and fall a few steps back. he watches as you mark the ball with your eyes, the way your whole body goes fluid as you do your run-up, bending down, your entire being held perfectly still for a single second before you leap up into the air.
like this, he thinks, it really does look like you’re flying.
thwack.
the ball comes straight at him, but this time, he’s ready for it. he jerks the side to avoid it and catches it as it threatens to bounce off towards the open road behind him.
“dunno… some kinda training camp or something,” you say, shrugging as you climb up the short incline to join him on the grass. you drop down next to him as he cradles the ball in his lap, eyes trained on his fingers as they dig into the worn grooves around the old ball.
“hm. their boys team is a pain in the ass to play against.”
you laugh, “their girls are just as bad.”
“hm.”
you turn towards him, “not gonna wish me good luck?”
osamu tosses the ball up to balance it on the tip of a single finger.
“why would i? ‘s not like you’re gonna need it anyway.”
you bump him with your shoulder before snatching the ball from his hand and jumping up to race off towards the road.
“mom’s makin’ gyoza tonight! last one there’s gotta do the dishes!”
osamu groans as he pushes himself up, but jogs after you all the same, wondering just how long of a head start he should give you before he races after you.
he shoves your head forward as he catches up to you, chuckling as you yelp.
“how bout if you win this weekend, i’ll come over and do the dishes for you for a whole week!”
you laugh, chasing after him, “and if we lose?”
osamu turns around, grinning as you narrow your eyes at his easy gait, even as he’s running backwards, still noticeably faster than you, “mah… i haven’t thought that far yet. i mean, ‘s not like you’re gonna lose, right?”
five.
when they lose to karasuno, you’re crying way harder than anyone on their team.
atsumu huffs, scowling to keep his own tears at bay as you bawl into his chest, your other arm wrapped around osamu’s waist. osamu sighs, reaching up to pat you placidly on the back, even as something in his own chest coils tight, and then tighter.
“d-damnit — you guys p-played so well, too! th-that little number t-ten was — was such a freak!”
at this, osamu chuckles, pulling back to take you by the shoulders, “says our own tiny volleyball freak.”
you sniffle and wipe at your eyes, glaring defiantly up at him. and as he watches you hiccup, reaching up to wipe at your red, puffy cheeks, something inside him seems to snap all at once.
he tugs you forward and before he knows it, all he can feel are your rapid, uneven breaths — all he can taste is salt and the faint hint of your mint chapstick.
he hears atsumu make a half-disgusted, half-resigned sort of sound next to him but he doesn’t care. he kisses you till your breaths are no longer choppy, till he can feel your fingers digging into the sore tightness in his biceps. till someone clears their throat and he pulls back, breathless, to find aran staring at him with his arms crossed.
“team meeting in five,” aran says as he pointedly turns back around to usher the rest of the stunned team towards where their stuff is. several people from other schools are staring and whispering behind their hands but at a sharp glare from atsumu, they all scatter.
“feeling better?” osamu asks, unable to keep the lilting edge of a tease out of his voice as he pulls you with him into a deserted corner of the stadium. you blink up at him, your eyes a bit unfocused and still red from crying as you reach up to press your fingers to your lips. and then, you jolt back to life all at once and whack him on the arm.
“ow! w-what was that for?!”
“did you do that just to stop me crying?”
“wha — no! i — i did it cause — i — i don’t really know why — ow! stop hitting me!”
osamu grabs your arms and pins them to your side, pressing you up against the large pillar behind you, currently keeping the two of you hidden from view. he stares down at you, at the way your eyes are bright and sharp even in this relative, borrowed darkness, at the way your chest heaves up and down, up and down, stretching at the fabric of your very well-fitted sports top. he stares at the way your lips are still parted, and he hates the fact that he now knows exactly how they taste, knows just how soft they are, after having wondered for years and years and years.
he wonders how long he’s wanted to kiss you.
longer, he thinks, probably, than the summer days.
longer, he knows, than the winter nights.
“s-samu?”
“hm? oh. sorry…” he shakes his head and lets you go slowly, but he should’ve known you’d never let him off that easy. it’s just not who you are.
you narrow your eyes and he feels caught by your gaze.
“if you didn’t do it to stop me crying… then why’d you do it?”
osamu allows himself a deep sigh, taking half a step back, “ah… can’t a guy just kiss the girl he likes without being interrogated about it?”
you blink, and then, you reach out to whack him again.
“dumbass-samu… you’re gonna be late to your team meeting.”
osamu feels a strange mixture of pride and elation ballooning in his chest as he notices the way you’re blushing, the way you refuse to meet his eyes. he reaches down to ruffle your hair even as you yelp and try to swat him away.
“right, right — wait for me, yeah?”
you roll your eyes but you’re smiling as you say, “of course, idiot… where else would i be?”
six.
“so tell me… why’d you really kiss me that time after the karasuno match?”
it’s winter, two years later, and osamu’s arm is slung casually around your shoulders as the rest of the team chatters and drinks and makes a mess in the corner of the bought-out restaurant for their first annual high school reunion.
osamu hums, nursing a half-finished glass of sake.
“mah… i guess i just wanted to make myself feel better after getting my ass whopped, y’know?”
you laugh and try to dig your elbow into his side but he clamps his arm around you and holds you close. outside, the snow is finally starting to slow.
“have you figured it out yet, then? what you’re gonna study in college?”
at this, osamu turns to cast you a sidelong look.
“you’re not mad that i’m quitting volleyball?”
you shrug, “why would i be mad? it’s not like you’re making me quit with you.”
this time, he shrugs, “well, tsumu was mad for like… a week.”
you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’m so similar to your brother.”
osamu makes a noncommittal noise that once again prompts you to try and elbow him in the side.
“then you tell me… what do you think a former volleyball star should do after quitting, hm?”
you swirl your own drink around your glass, your cheeks dusted in pink as you consider for a moment. then, you smirk as you look back up at him with a wistful gaze.
“make ramen or riceballs or… something like that, right?”
osamu smiles, leaning down to gaze his lips along your cheek before reaching out to tip your head back to press you lips to his.
“y’know, that actually doesn’t sound like such a terrible idea.”
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2k celebration reqs still open! :)
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inchidentally · 2 months
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Why do I feel like Oscar is intentionally keeping Lando at a distance because he assumes it would never work out? And Lando kind of wishes Oscar would show an interest but he isn't so Lando pulls back too? Maybe I'm totally crazy but feels like they're doing a double fake out. If not then why not just be friendly the way they are with other guys?
@twinkodium helped talk me through this ask so a huge thank you to her <3
gonna put below a cut and include some other asks that aren't necessarily of interest to everyone and are kind of in the same vein (note the tag)
okay so "why not just be friendly like they are with other guys" is a pretty good thing to focus on bc when you actually break it down, Lando and Oscar define themselves as being pretty shy and they conceal a fair amount their lives and closest friends from the public. and truth is that it seems to take both of them at least a year of knowing someone before they open up - and even longer before they're as friendly as we see them with guys like Logan, Zhou, Carlos or Daniel. Lando lists the guys he's known since as far back as karting as his closest friends. so after just one season together, what we already have in terms of friendliness between Lando and Oscar is pretty damn good!
but honestly we can't say that either of them are really holding back at all when we've got Andrea and Zak constantly emphasizing how in sync they are and then of course how big they both show up for each other's wins/poles etc. whatever we don't get in terms of fun fandom content, we've got them showing each other mutual respect and support and sharing the same priorities. that's... really good imo.
it's what cracks me up abt everyone who went all 'planetf1 angry white dad in oakleys selfie in a truck comment section' over that recent Oscar quote. Lando's literally had everyone saying the same thing to him, directly and on social media ?? did they also decide that Martin Brundle, Natalie Pinkham, Lawrence Barretto and Jenson Button all despise Lando and want to take swipes at him by saying that his public flagellation feels of no use and worse, that it's probably a hindrance to his mindset? did Lando suddenly became loathed by all these people who SEEM to openly like or love him bc they said that ??
or did they expect Oscar to respond to that question with "oh no yeah it's cool that my teammate who I actually like shits all over himself and gives his haters ammo y'know to each their own whatever man" bc that WOULD actually be incredibly cold and hurtful asgajsgfljasf
I know fandom can go way off track and start expecting these men to talk like fan fic but the truth is that they view each other as professionals and fellow drivers first and friends (if they are) second. I won't repeat myself bc I've posted about it enough but none of the grid are a significant part of Lando or Oscar's life outside F1. Lando and Martin did a stopover in Perth (and apparently Martin even had work there?) for one day to ride dirt bikes at Daniel's ranch and Lando went to Carlos' sisters' gigantic state wedding lol. doesn't compare at all compared to Lando's time spent with Max F, the quadrant folks, his family, his Monaco friends and definitely not Martin Garrix. it also doesn't mean that they're not still friends with those guys on the grid - it's just not the same.
so the fact that Lando and Oscar aren't out here dishing out bromancey stuff where fans can see and hear definitely doesn't say that those bromances mean the drivers are actually any closer. Oscar relied on extroverts like Robert and Arthur to give him something to play off and Lando relied on Carlos and Daniel for the same. so when they're left without a gobby extrovert they do that cute thing of giggling and handing back and forth to each other. to me personally it's always kind of sweet ?? that Lando and Oscar do the thing of looking at each other for support to get through the cringey and awkward to camera stuff. sometimes when Lando is really feeling himself Oscar can just kick back and watch him. and as we saw w that helmet design video, even when Oscar isn't filming w Lando he hangs around offers support.
wow apparently I cannot stay on track today anon but idk I just personally think that it's the opposite of a mutual fakeout and they've bonded pretty well over both being shy, both being equally focused on their careers and also needing to switch off sometimes. finding out they spent the night after Lando's crash in Vegas together sharing "commiserations" is like, one in a long list of us hearing that they chose to hang out alone together and not publicize it.
all of us are on the outside of their friendship and as much as that suuuuucks for not getting as much content as we want, it's also really sweet and kind more likely to be genuine and lasting since they consider a lot of that relationship as private <3
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askgfka no prob!! tbh a lot of the stress and anxiety in other Lando ships is down to ppl getting way too comfy w the idea that real life partners either aren't "real" or that they're the only thing standing in the way of their ship becoming real.
and bc for some reason landoscar makes me want to write all of these essays I feel like it's kind of my responsibility to be like yeah, there's even more than just assuming ppl's sexualities and their real life partners stand between two ppl we like to imagine together actually getting together. rpf is heavy on the f and mostly what we're all actually enjoying are friendships. and as someone who is lucky to have them, I personally wouldn't be one of those ppl who said romantic partners and friendships are on some sliding scale of importance. they're just different!
ever since landoscar became a thing, Lily's been in Oscar's life and Lando's been pursued by every man who sees him and burning through baddies on Raya on a literal global scale. it's important to come back from rpf to that fact so we don't end up attraction those legions of people calling real life girlfriends "PR beards" or that Lando's dating app horniness is some front for him meeting up with Carlos or Daniel or whoever lol.
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oh I am so not the person to answer abt this since I can't relate to wanting couples to get married or thinking that it's all that significant! I'm a huge romantic and I theoretically enjoy the idea of weddings/marriage but all the ppl I know who've gotten married out of college are already regretting or cheating it so it's put a real damper on it for me.
but that's as much as I want to speculate abt them bc I don't want to put anything out in the universe for ppl I'll never even know !!
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elliebixlerenthusiast · 9 months
Text
Fight for You - Ellie Bixler x Fem Reader
@scarletblink (tagged as requested! 😊)
My new fic is finally here! BUT:
🚨 Trigger warning! 🚨
As I mentioned in a previous post, this will contain depictions of family violence, assault and homophobia.
If you are triggered, please don't come for me. I was also triggered during the writing process as some of this is inspired by things that have happened in my own life...I won't elaborate any further than that.
An anonymous follower asked "Could you do an Ellie x reader with this “get behind me” prompt where someone is harassing them in public and Ellie tells her GF to get behind her?" So here it is!
I hope you enjoy it!
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NOTE: Y/S/N (your sister’s name) or Y/O/S/N (your other sister’s names)
NOTE: Y/S/N (your sister’s name) or Y/O/S/N (your other sister’s names)
During one of your daily work coffee dates, you and Ellie stood in line waiting to order as you discussed your days together. Ellie enlightened you with a funny story about a client who was afraid of needles and you giggled, listening intently. She smiled when she saw the little crinkles form at the corners of your lips. 
Collecting your order you walked hand in hand towards a small park, happy in your own little world; taking the time to snuggle up on a park bench. It was a beautiful, warm sunny day so it was nice to take advantage of the weather for a change. It was also quiet for that particular part of the working day; you counted about five people in the vicinity, including yourself and Ellie - so that was a bonus.
Just as you were leaving the park forty minutes later, you heard your name being called.
You froze. You knew that voice anywhere.
Ellie saw the look on your face and immediately went into protective girlfriend mode. She’d only ever seen that look when you were talking about or surrounded by your family. 
You’ve always had a very strained relationship with your family; your siblings and mom were abusive; beating you emotionally and physically on an almost daily basis simply because you were a lesbian. Well…That, and the fact they were notorious alcoholics and drug addicts. Your sisters were known as the “town bikes”, sleeping with almost every and any man that came their way, regardless of age; mostly in exchange for narcotics. He did everything he could to get the support your siblings so desperately needed; but they pushed him away, absolutely breaking his heart by stealing from him, lying to and threatening him. Your Mom had been cheating on your Dad for years with his brother and your sisters knew about it. 
You had your suspicions about their cagey behaviour and came home from school early one day to find them together in the kitchen. Your siblings and mom threatened to kill you, so you were forced to keep your mouth shut. It hurt your Dad’s heart to see what his family were doing to you; you tried your best to put on a brave face around him, not wanting him to worry about you, but after that particular threat, you caved - finally telling him the truth about what they were up to; including telling him about the real reasons behind your beatings. Ultimately this led to him filing for divorce, seeking sole custody of you when you were thirteen. 
The two of you left town not long afterwards. It was a real shame, as your Dad was a respected, loved and well-known man within your community; working as a High School principal. While many people were shocked and sad at the news, they all understood your move.
Your mom claimed she didn’t care, and went on to marry your uncle. Your sisters however, blamed you for tearing the family apart after the divorce. 
You and your dad had a very close bond. He was evidently the only member of your family that took care of you, who genuinely loved you; and supported you after you came out. He always encouraged you to be your true self, and love who you want to love - no questions asked. 
While your dad was absolutely disgusted with your siblings for their behaviour, he still loved them, of course. He would be kind enough to send them birthday and Christmas presents; and even went to visit them if he was ever back in your old hometown, visiting his own mom and the only other sibling he speaks to - your Aunty.
You both got a new lease on life after he landed himself a new job as a college professor, and you went on to a new High School where you met, and quickly became friends with Ellie and Beth.
Things were really looking up for the both of you; your Dad had found love again with a fellow college professor, but tragedy soon followed as she later passed away in a car accident six months after getting engaged. Almost eighteen months later, your Dad was diagnosed with leukaemia. You became his primary caregiver for four and a half years, while juggling your final High School exams and part time job. He eventually succumbed to the horrible disease after you graduated when you were eighteen; you believed he held on to see you achieve the start of your dreams, always making sure you were well looked after before his time was up. Losing your Dad broke you for a long time but you always knew he was with you, in whichever direction your life took.
Things became tricky after his tragic death as your Mom and siblings came after you for money; claiming it was the least you owe them after “what you put them through”. You had to fight for your Dad’s rights and wishes; which involved you as being the sole beneficiary of his estate. 
They caused more trouble for you than you could have imagined; which is why you haven’t spoken to them in 15 years. 
That voice called your name again. The icy, sarcastic, cruel tone coursing through you like a tidal wave. Tensing, you turned around, standing face to face with your estranged sister. You swallowed hard, mouth agape, staring at her like she had just stabbed you in the chest.
Taking her in, you noticed on first glance that she looked clean and sober. However, you noted the sunken look in her eyes, looking like she was completely whacked out of it; or just tired. She was dressed in skin tight jeans, four inch heels and an old midriff crop top that was one size too small. She also had a rather expensive looking gold chain around ner neck; probably a gift from her latest fling.
“Cat got your tongue, sis?”, she smirked.
You remained quiet; feeling like you had just retreated back to a pre-teen again, and tightly gripped Ellie’s hand. She sensed your hesitation, seemingly knowing where your mind drifted off too, and immediately whispered to you.
“Get behind me, baby”, she said.
You did exactly that as she stood between you and your sister, using her height to her advantage; almost daring your sister to challenge her. 
“What, you’re still deaf and dumb? Need your… girlfriend to fight your battles?”, your sister said, her face full of disgust, as she glared at Ellie.
“Well, say something, Y/N”, she continued laughing, stepping forward.
“Hey, Y/S/N, don’t speak to her like that!”, Ellie said, defending you; extending her arm.
“It’s alright, El”, you said meekly, touching her elbow.
“What are you doing here?”, you questioned.
Your sister peered at Ellie who moved closer to you, gently caressing your hand with her thumb. 
Your sister noticed, rolled her eyes again before smirking at you.
“Oh, relax El - I just want to talk to my little sister”, she said.
“Not that it's any of your business, but I’m visiting my new boyfriend’s family for the weekend”, she mumbled.
“So, sis how are you? I see you’ve done well for yourself; using Dad’s money to get yourself through college and pay for this…whore, I see. I’m surprised she hasn’t dumped your pathetic arse. My guess is she’s only with you for the money. Who’d want you anyway?”, she seethed, immediately changing the subject.
Ellie stood there staring back at your sister and spoke up.
“Excuse me?”, she asked; utterly offended.
“What the fuck did you just say?!”, you asked, finally stepping in front of Ellie as anger coursed through your body.
“Okay…You need to leave - right now!”, Ellie said, her voice raised. 
“You heard me”, your sister said, ignoring Ellie.
“No, no, no, I really didn’t, sis. Why don’t you say it again?”, you questioned; squaring up to your sibling.
Ellie looked down to see your hand clenching itself into a fist; she called your name, but you didn’t hear her over the loud ringing in your ears.
A beat of silence passed between you as you challenged your bitch sister. You couldn’t help but think of the irony in this situation.
“Alright…I see you’ve used our father’s money to get yourself through college, getting a degree you don’t deserve, getting a fancy job to spite us and - pay this…woman to be your live-in whore”, your sister said slowly and bitterly; emphasising on the words “woman” and “whore”.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/S/N?!”, Ellie said, her voice raised a couple of octaves.
“You bitch! Fuck you!”, you bellowed, at the same time Ellie spoke up.
That was the last straw for you. Lunging forward, you reached out to wallop your sister across the face as she stepped backwards, dodging you, threw her hands up in mock surrender and laughed. 
Ellie grabbed your elbow to stop you from hitting her; encouraging you to take the high road.
“She’s not worth it, Y/N”, Ellie said to you, staring at your bitch of a sister.
“There it is; that temper. I always knew you were a feisty one, Y/N. It’s just a shame it took this long for me to finally get to see it. You never once fought back; always cowering in the corner - just like a pussy. But no, I was wrong about you, sis”, she said.
“Ignore her, babe. Let’s just go”, Ellie whispered to you.
You nodded, turning to walk the other way before your sister jumped in front of you, speaking again again; slowly and bitterly. A chill ran down your spine as you watched her. Ellie tightened her grip on you, protecting you.
“Unless… you are still that scared little girl inside, who is only putting on a show for your whore…and all of this is to cover up the fact that deep down, you know the life you’re living is wrong. You are a sick human being for living this lifestyle, and I think you know it. Am I right, sis? ”, your sister said, still aiming to get another rise out of you.
You and Ellie walked faster away from her but she chased you, stopping you dead in your tracks. 
You glared at her. Silent. Ellie placed her arm on your waist, protecting you. She could feel you struggling; shaking under her touch. She knew your sister had gotten under your skin. Glancing at Ellie, you saw her face turn a dark shade of red, her eyes growing devilish. She couldn’t stand there, listening to your sibling berate you any longer. You could tell she was itching to do something, anything to protect you.
“Hmm…I rest my case”, your sister said proudly after you were unresponsive.
“You will always be nothing but a worthless, sick little slut”, she said, her voice suddenly growing angry; borderline demonic; jumping forward to attack you as she spat on your shoes, knocking Ellie out of the way. You reached out to steady Ellie on her feet, but she was too quick for you as she lunged forwards.
“Alright, that is ENOUGH! How dare you?!”, Ellie yelled at your sister; pushing her backwards.
“You’re a homewrecker!!”, she said as she slapped your face.
Ellie couldn’t take it any more, so she backhanded her hard right in the jaw. Your sister spun around before turning to face you again.
Although there were a few people around, no one seemed to notice (or really care) what was happening, seeing as fights and disagreements usually occurred in this part of town.
Wow, Ellie really did a number on her, you thought as you took in the red welt and blood dripping from her nose and lower lip.
“Just who the fuck do you think you are?! What, do you get off on hurting others because your own life is so sad and miserable?! Don’t you EVER lay a hand on her again! ”, Ellie shouted.
This time it was you who held Ellie back.
“Ellie, stop. Please! Just let it go”, you pleaded.
She turned to look at you, and you knew she wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
You sister ran her tongue over the cut on her lip; before smirking at Ellie.
“She’s a tough one, Y/N; I’ll give her that. I think I see why you’re interested in her. Like to be roughed up, do ya? Nothing’s really changed then, huh?”, she questioned, smirking.
She went to retaliate; reaching outwards to slap Ellie’s face before Ellie caught her hand and whacked her again.
“Y/S/N - did you not hear me the first time? I said LEAVE. NOW. Y/N can have you charged!” Ellie said.
“For what? You’re the one that struck me”, your sister teased, not backing down.
“Y/S/N. For God’s sake; Ellie’s right - just drop it. I can’t do this anymore!”, you yelled.
“You need to grow up. You’re too out of it, and I doubt you’ll remember any of this tomorrow! Dad left, and yes, for a long time he was sad and even questioned himself over his decision. You should be grateful; because he never forgot you, or Y/O/S/N birthdays. Even after everything you put him through, he still made the effort to see you because he loved you; even when you didn’t deserve it…yet, you guys were always too busy gallivanting around town with your new toy boys or too high on God knows what to even see him. Not to mention, aiding Mom’s alcoholism and affair with Dad’s brother!”, you yelled.
Ellie stood there watching you, listening as you recalled some of your most painful memories. While she knew it was hard for you to do, she couldn’t help but be in awe of you; finally standing up to your sister after all these years was a huge deal so she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and love for you.
Glancing towards your sister, Ellie smirked at the pitiful look on her face as you finally laid everything out on the table once and for all.
“You seem to have forgotten the thousands of dollars you stole from Dad when you were sixteen to blow on drugs and alcohol. The endless lies you told him…He bailed you and Y/O/S/N out of your own shit time and time again, and did you even thank him once? No! You just continued to do the same shit over and over again. You treated him so poorly”, you continued.
“Don’t even get me started on the fact that you didn’t bother to see him once when he was dying! It wasn’t you that looked after him, cared for him, tended to his needs - it was me! While you were off screwing some new guy, looking for your next quick fix, I was looking after our sick father while juggling multiple things! I was only seventeen for fucks sake! Ellie and Beth were there for him more than you ever were! You broke that man’s heart so many times that I’ve lost count. What gives you the right to think you were entitled to any of his estate - after EVERYTHING you’ve done?!”, you said, yelling louder.
Your sister stood there in utter silence, seemingly taking in every word; shocked at how far you have gone with the facts.
Ellie continued listening, placing her arm on your hip. You instinctively reached for her hand, holding it in place. She could feel how tense you were, feeling you shake; so she gently squeezed your side in support.
“What about the beatings you used to give me, huh? Simply because I’m a lesbian; and because I didn’t want to follow you down the same path you and Y/O/S/N’s took?! Paying your boyfriends to rape me broke me in more ways than you can even imagine! Being a lesbian does not make someone a bad person. I am still me. I always have been. I’m making a difference in people’s lives; not ruining them! I’ve fought hard to get where I am, and I’m damn fucking proud of it, too. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a worthless…washed up junkie, trying to stay relevant. Look where the alcohol and drugs got you, Y/S/N!”, you shouted; tears brimming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.
“How dare you disrespect Ellie and call her a whore?! Ha! You’re one to talk, sis. I don’t even want to hear her name come out of your mouth again. Don’t you ever touch her again. She is an amazing woman who has been there for me, shown up for me; and Dad, for that fact, time and time again! She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I won’t stand for you or anyone else treating her with such disregard! Ellie is a better person than you will ever be! I love her. She loves me; simple as that”, you bellowed.
“So don’t you stand there and act the martyr! You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/S/N! I know I am. Even Dad was; he never said it to me, but I could see it in his eyes. You’re a disgrace! I hate you and want nothing more to do with you”, you continued.
Your sister blinked. Ellie softly giggled under her breath.
“You finished?”, your sister asked.
“Why? You gonna spout more bullshit? Hit me again? Hurt Ellie? You can’t hurt me anymore than you already have - I’d like to see you try”, you said bitterly.
Your sister stepped forwards again and Ellie stood between you once more; eyeing her down like she was prey ready to kill. You held her hand as the two of them challenged each other silently; daring the other to make the next move. 
You suddenly noticed a wet substance on the palm of your hand; looking down you saw blood on Ellie’s knuckles from the punch she landed on your sister. You felt terrible seeing how much blood was covering her hand, and gently supported it. It was rare to see Ellie angry, but when you did; you swore you could see a demonic presence take over her when she went into bat for the ones she loves.
Your sister must have noticed it too, because she suddenly backed off.
“I should go”, she mumbled.
“Wow…That’s the first correct thing you’ve said this morning. I think you should, too, Y/S/N”, Ellie said angrily.
“Stay away from us. I don’t ever want to see you again”, you said to your sister.
She threw her hands up in surrender before high tailing it in the opposite direction. Ellie stood there watching her; her nostrils flaring.
“El?”, you asked.
She turned towards you; the look in her eye scared you. She noticed, quickly blinking, apologising and taking you in her arms.
You embraced her kind and loving hug before pulling back and immediately cradling her injured hand.
She slowly reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with her uninjured hand.
“Are you okay, baby?”, she asked gently.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry she hurt you, Ellie”, you said quietly. She looked you dead in the eye and knew you weren’t okay, but didn’t push.
“She didn’t. She had it coming; I’ve gotta do what I can to protect my one and only”, she said, smiling softly.
“I know, honey; and I love you for that. C’mon, let’s get your hand cleaned up; we should get back to work”, you said.
Walking back to your respective workplaces, you lead Ellie inside your office where you administered First Aid.
You instructed her to sit on your desk as you gently cleaned and bandaged her knuckles. Ellie winced in pain a couple of times, but relaxed as you soothed her. She watched your face the entire time, knowing you were doing your best to not fall apart.
“You know none of what she said was true, right?”, she asked, gently trying to get you to open up.
“Yeah…It’s just…I can’t believe she still hasn’t grown up. She’s almost 50 years old, acting like a child. Rehashing what we went through with Dad was bad enough - but to disrespect you and our relationship; that’s what did it for me. I hate that bitch with everything I am. I’m sorry”, you said angrily, finally letting a few tears escape.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry”, she said kindly.
“It’s not you”, you said, wiping them away.
“I know that, my love. I’m so proud of you for holding your own. Thank you for fighting for us; I love how passionate you are about us”, she said lovingly.
“No, thank you. You protected me, like you always do. I’m so grateful for you, Ellie. I hope you know that”, you said, getting lost in her captivating eyes.
“I do”, she smiled, tears now forming in her eyes.
“I’m just sorry you got hurt”, you said, drawing your attention back to her injured hand.
“I did? Hmm… I don’t even feel a thing. It must be healing quickly”, she smiled as she affectionately bopped you on the nose with her other hand.
You giggled as you finished tending to her sore hand, and brought it to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the knuckle.
“Thank you, sweetie”, she said.
“Any time”, you smiled.
“Honey?”, she asked.
You looked at her beautiful face.
“I want you to know that I will always fight for you, for us, in every lifetime. I love you, and nothing or no one will ever change that”, she said, her tone sincere and affectionate.
You cried more tears, this time however, they were happy; as you draped your arms around her shoulders, kissing her on the lips.
Ellie sucked in a breath as she held on to your waist.
“I’m going to tell my boss I’m working from home for the rest of the day; I can’t deal with anyone else’s problems right now”, you mumbled.
“I’ll cancel my last few clients”, she said.
“No, it’s okay honey. You don’t have to do that”, you said, feeling guilty.
“It’s okay; they were just getting some touch up. I’ll reschedule. Besides, I need my sexy nurse to tend to my war wound”, she winked.
“I’d much rather be with you if you need me”, she said.
“I’ll always need you”, you smiled.
“Then it’s settled. Let’s just go home and snuggle up on the couch together. We’ll talk about what happened later”, she said, nipping at your jaw.
“Sounds good. Let’s go home”, you said, placing a kiss on her forehead before gathering your stuff and heading home.
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Text
Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 5: Tracing Every Part of You
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader
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Work Summary:
No powers, college AU.
Spending a day at the lake with the Avengers.
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 3727
Read on AO3.
Masterlists.
Summer Fics Masterlist.
Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @mcximffs @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @starmansirius @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout
Taglist info.
Notes:
Sorry it's slightly late (it's past midnight here). I haven't had as much time to edit as usual so I hope it's good.
Everyone is in college.
Warnings for overprotective/jealous/possessive Pietro, FWB to lovers, mentions of drowning, alcohol, tickling, a lot of bickering, mentions of a car accident, mentions of casual sex, these bitches suck at communicating, background Stucky and Wanda x Vision
---
Wanda and Pietro were bickering in the front seat of Wanda’s battered station wagon. She wouldn’t let him drive, since he totalled her last car, and he was sulking about it.
“It’s been three years,” he muttered, “when are you going to get over it?”
“Oh, so you’re reckless and rusty, and you want me to let you drive?” Wanda rolled her eyes.
“I took a refresher course,” he said, slapping the dashboard. “I’m a better driver now! I won’t crash!”
“That’s nice. Get your own car.”
It had been like this for the entire drive. At least they weren’t speaking in Sokovian. They only did that when the arguments got serious.
You sat forward, leaning between their two seats. “Wow, you guys sure know how to make a girl regret riding with you.”
“There was no room in Steve’s car. You had no choice,” said Pietro.
“I’m sure Bucky would’ve let me ride on the back of his bike,” you said, a hint of suggestion in your tone.
Pietro frowned. “And end up splattered all along the sidewalk, I’d bet,” he huffed.
There was a not insignificant part of you that liked to get Pietro riled up. He wasn’t your boyfriend, not by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d been hooking up with him since the beginning of the school year.
Since summer break had started, you had spent almost every day over at his and Wanda’s place. Sometimes, he’d put his arm around you, or lend you his hoody, or sit a little too close to you while you played video games on the couch. But he wasn’t your boyfriend.
He was your friend that you sometimes kissed on the porch when his sister had gone to bed early. A friend who drew patterns on your back with his fingertip whenever he got bored. A friend who had seen you naked.
He never said anything, but he always got a little grumpy whenever you talked about spending time with Bucky or Steve. You couldn’t think of a single reason that he would have to dislike Steve, so you assumed – or hoped – that it was jealousy.
You encouraged it. Maybe if you kept pushing his buttons, he’d get his head out of ass and ask you on a date. A real date, not just you blowing him in the deserted laundrette after midnight, or him going down on you in the backseat of your car.
“Don’t worry, P, you’re still my favourite,” you said, lightly punching his arm. His lips twitched.
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Don’t make you leave you two by the side of the road.”
“We aren’t doing anything,” you said, raising your hands.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
The first time you’d hooked up with Pietro was on the first night you’d met. You shared a psychology class with Wanda, and you’d struck up a friendship with her. She’d invited you to her birthday party, and you’d ended up chatting with an extremely pretty, very cocky boy with bleached blond hair.
When she’d stumbled in on the two of you in Pietro’s bed later that evening, she’d practically screeched, “What are you doing with my brother?”
You hadn’t known that Pietro was her brother, but it made a lot of things make sense. The fact that it had also been his birthday should’ve clued you in, since she’d told you she had a twin.
Your friends were already waiting for you at the lake when you pulled up. Tony had brought a portable stereo, and there was a large cooler full of ice-cold beers.
You were pondering the drinks selection, but Pietro had other ideas.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand. “Come swim with me.”
You wrinkled your nose. “In the gross lake water?”
He let a laugh. It was a sweet, musical thing that made you feel warm inside. “Why do you come to the lake if not to swim?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. Ambience?”
He snorted. “What about to cool down?”
He had a point there. It was blisteringly hot in the sun, and only mildly more bearable in the shade. You were already wearing a bikini under your clothes, so it wasn’t like you weren’t prepared.
“Alright, fine.”
A grin spread across his face. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” he shouted, and then bolted towards the lake.
“Pietro!” you shrieked, but you were already following him. He kicked off his t-shirt and flip flops as he ran. You were having more trouble with your denim shorts. You had just reached the edge of the water when he took a running jump into it.
You swore. You shed your clothes, leaving them in a haphazard pile, and waded in.
Despite the hot air, the water was very cold. You got to knee depth, and then hesitated. Your reluctance wasn’t missed by Pietro.
“Come onnnn,” he whined. “Come play with me.”
“You’re a child.”
“If I was a child, I would be splashing you right now. What I actually am is a gentleman.”
You put your hand on your heart sarcastically. “Wow. My hero.” You waded in a little deeper, and his eyes lit up. You kept going until the water was just under your boobs.
This was the hard part. “Come on, dragă. If you get it over with, I’ll come warm you up.” There was a prickle of warmth across your skin.
You took a deep breath and then plunged under the water. Even under the water you could hear Pietro whoop. When you resurfaced, his eyes were on you, a wide grin on his face. He held out a hand to you and you took it, letting him pull you into the deeper water.
“Much better,” he murmured, pulling you close. “You want me to warm you up?”
His fingers played with the string of your bikini. “Everyone is right over there,” you said, nodding towards the shore.
“Who cares about everyone? Let me take you somewhere quiet and make you feel good.”
The offer was tempting, but you had a new resolution. No more casual sex with Pietro. If he wanted you, he was going to have to work for it.
“No, thanks,” you said brightly, and turned to swim in the opposite direction.
Nat was wading in up to her thighs. As you swam up to her, she put her hands on her hips.
“Pietro is watching you like a hawk right now,” she said, a half-smile on her face. You had already filled her in on your resolution.
“Good.”
Other people were getting into the water now. You watched as Victor (although everyone called him Vision) paddled in the shallows. He had come with Tony, although you knew he and Wanda were friends, and you were starting to realise why. Pietro was the worst cockblock in the world.
Wanda was watching Vision with a fond smile on her face. Their eyes met, and she gave him a little wave. He waved back, flushing bright red.
“What do you think?” asked Nat. “Are they already boning, or are they about to?”
“There’s no way they’re already boning. He’s way too shy and I don’t think Wanda is in the headspace to make the first move.”
“What are you talking about?”
You spun to see Pietro standing behind you. The water was waist-deep for him, and he had his hands on his hips, mirroring Nat.
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” you said, and he huffed.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. You’re loud.”
You looked back over to the shore. Wanda was wading into the water now, wincing with every step. You knew there were some sharp stones around there. Vision offered her a hand, which she gratefully took.
When you turned back to Pietro, his jaw was very tight. “I’m gonna-” he started, but you put both hands on his chest, pushing him into the water.
He flailed around, grabbing at you, and managed to pull you down with him.
“Gross,” said Nat. She swam off to go and talk to Clint.
“What did you do that for?” Pietro growled, but he still had his arms around you.
“I’m not letting you cockblock my friend,” you said, pushing him deeper.
“She’s my sister.”
“And she’s an adult. If she wants to get dicked down by literally the dweebiest guy I’ve ever met, that’s her choice.”
He groaned. “Don’t say ‘dicked down’.” You smiled at him, innocently. His hands came to rest on your hips. “Come swim with me? Watching her talk to him makes my skin crawl.”
“He’s nice. She could do a lot worse.” You also thought she could do better, but Pietro didn’t need to know that. Besides, you were sure that no one would be good enough in his eyes for his beloved sister.
“Come on.” He tried to pull you out into the deeper water, but you stopped him.
“Nuh-uh. We’re staying right here where everyone can see us.”
His eyes glinted dangerously. “Kinky.”
You lightly slapped his shoulder. “Not like that. We’re not fucking, Pietro.”
“We’re not?”
“I know you’re used to getting what you want right away, but delayed gratification can feel so good. You should try it sometime.”
“Well, you should try being less of a tease.” His hands went straight to your armpits, tickling you. You screeched, grabbing onto his shoulders so that you wouldn’t go under.
“Pietro!” you squealed. “You’re… gonna… drown me.” It was a struggle to get the words out. You were breathless from laughter.
“I won’t let you drown, pretty girl.” He stopped tickling you. His arms wrapped around you again, holding you in place.
In spite of yourself, it felt good. Pietro’s arms felt safe.
“I can’t say the same,” you said, and then you pushed down on his head, dunking him under the water.
He came up a few seconds later, spluttering, wet hair plastered over his eyes. You were laughing. You couldn’t help yourself. As soon as he’d managed to swipe his hair out of his eyes, he splashed you.
“Demon woman,” he growled. “Trying to kill me.”
The two of you play-wrestled, tickling and splashing each other until Tony’s voice cut through the air.
“Hey! Lovebirds! If you want some of this barbecue, you’re gonna have to hurry up.”
You looked at Pietro. “I’m pretty hungry.”
“Me too.”
The two of you swam back to the shore. You were the last ones out. Most other people already had their food on paper plates, sitting on beach chairs or towels.
Wanda and Vision were sharing a picnic blanket. You could see Pietro eyeing them, weighing up whether he should go sit down with them to break up whatever was happening.
Too busy watching him watching them, you didn’t see the empty bottle until your foot rolled over it. The ground was flat here, so it slipped out from under you, and you fell forward, letting out an undignified yelp.
Bucky, who had been manning the barbecue, grabbed your arms before you could go all the way over.
“Fuck.”
“You okay, doll?” asked Bucky. He pulled you upright. “You nearly took a tumble there.”
“I’m okay. Thank you.”
“You want something to eat?”
“Yes please.”
As Bucky served some food onto your plate, you snuck a glance back at Pietro, and found that he was staring right at you. His lips were pressed into a hard line.
“What?”
“N-nothing.” He tried to modulate his expression, but he still looked upset. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Bucky handed you your plate. “Pietro? You want some?” he asked.
“Uhh…” Pietro glanced at you, and then back at Bucky. “Sure.”
While Pietro was getting his food, you decided to sit as far away with Wanda as possible. You were pretty sure Pietro was more interested in being with you than cockblocking his sister, but with Pietro, who could say?
Sure enough, as you dug into your burger, Pietro sidled up to you. You were sitting on a stump that was definitely only large enough for one person, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
“Pietro.”
“Sorry, dragă. Not enough seats.”
You looked over at the empty beach chair next to where Steve and Bucky were sitting, and rolled your eyes. “Right.”
“We can share, right? You don’t mind sharing with me?”
“God, you’re so fucking clingy today.”
Pietro’s face fell. He shifted off the stump so that he was sitting on the floor. He didn’t look at you as he picked at his food.
You grimaced. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. It was in line with the kind of playful banter that you and Pietro usually had, but maybe you’d hit on a sore spot.
The two of you ate your food in silence, and it was strange. You weren’t used to him being quiet. Once you were both done eating, you took his paper plate wordlessly, stacked it on top of yours and then put a rock on them so that they wouldn’t blow away.
You could feel Pietro watching you curiously. You stood up, brushed yourself off, and then said, “Come here.”
Bemused, he got to his feet. As he stepped closer to you, you put your hands on his shoulders, manoeuvring him down onto the stump. Once he realised what you were doing, he sat.
You sat down in his lap, sideways on, so that you could put your arms around his neck.
When he gave you a questioningly look, you said, “Not enough seats, right?”
He smiled at you then. “Right.” His hand rested against your hip, thumbing against your skin there.
You had to suppress a shiver. You looked at Pietro, expecting him to look cocky or turned on, but instead, he just smiled at you affectionately.
“You know…” he said slowly. “I hear there’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I was thinking maybe we could… stay out here?”
“How would we get home?”
“Uh… walk?”
“What if it rains?”
“It’s not going to rain!”
“Pietro!”
“Fine, it’s fine if you don’t want to.” He closed his mouth, looking away from you, and you felt a pang of longing. You wanted to watch the stars with Pietro.
You glanced over at where Wanda was sitting. Her and Vision were side by side, looking very comfortable with each other.
“Give me a sec,” you said to Pietro. He looked confused as you walked over to where Wanda was sitting, but didn’t try to follow.
“Wanda,” you said, flopping down onto the edge of her picnic blanket. Vision pulled away from her quickly, glancing nervously around to see if Pietro was with you.
Wanda glared at you. “What do you want?”
“I was thinking that you could do me a favour, and then I could do you a favour.”
She brought her eyebrows together in confusion. “Explain.”
“You let me borrow your car-” She groaned. “Let me finish! Pietro wants to stay here tonight. If you ride with Tony and let me use your car, you can have the house to yourself.”
You glanced at Vision, who, taking your meaning, flushed again.
Wanda gave you a hard stare. She pulled her car keys out of her pocket. You reached for them, but she pulled them back.
“Two conditions. One: Pietro doesn’t drive.”
“Fine.” You’d been expecting that one.
“Two: no sex in my car.”
“I wasn’t gonna-”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” She dangled the keys in front of you.
“Right.” You took them from her. “Thanks, Wands. You’re a lifesaver.”
The rest of the group had begun packing up. The light was starting to fade.
“Hey,” said Bucky, stopping you on your way back over to Pietro. “You coming for the afterparty? Think we’re gonna get some beers in and watch movies at Steve’s place.”
You glanced over at Pietro. Although he couldn’t hear what Bucky was saying, he was giving him a hard stare.
“No thanks, Buck. Me and Pietro are gonna stargaze.”
Bucky gave you a knowing look. “Alright, doll. Have fun.”
You walked back over to Pietro and plonked yourself down in his lap. He hesitated for a second, and then put his arms around you again.
“Don’t look so sour,” you said. “Look what I got.” You dangled Wanda’s car keys in his face. His eyes lit up, and he made a grab for them, but you held them out of reach. “No way. Wanda will kill me if I let you drive her car.”
“But-”
You put your finger over his lips. “You wanna sleep here tonight or not?”
Slowly, begrudgingly, he nodded.
As your friends packed up their cars and made to leave, you said your goodbyes, and then the two of you were alone.
They had left you few a couple of beers, a bag of chips and some of the leftover barbecue. You still had Wanda’s picnic blanket, which you laid out on the dirt riverbank. Steve had even had a pillow in his car, which he was happy to lend you.
When you were finally alone, you put your clothes back on – shorts and a t-shirt and a hoody – and Pietro gave you a funny look. He was already lounging on the blanket, but he tugged on the fabric of your hoody as soon as you were in reach.
“Kind of counter-productive, don’t you think, dragă?”
“I thought we were here to watch the stars.” Ignoring his searching hands, you opened the bag of chips and offered him one. He didn’t take it.
Instead, he slid his hand under your t-shirt. “Among other things.”
“I meant what I said, P.” You grabbed his wrist. “We’re not fucking.”
He drew his eyebrows together in an expression that reminded you of Wanda. He leant up on his elbow. “Why not?”  
You rolled onto your back, stealing the pillow from where it had been lying between you. “Maybe because it’s all we ever do?”
Pietro went quiet. You could feel his gaze, hot and prickly on the side of your face, but you refused to look at him. You wondered if he was angry at you.
He took a deep breath, and you braced yourself, but his words came out very soft. “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
You huffed out a mirthless laugh, staring up at the sky. It wasn’t quite dark enough to see the stars yet, but it was getting there.
“Has it never occurred to you that maybe I want something real?”
“What do you mean real? This is real.”
He touched your thigh, not sexually, but creating a bridge between you. You didn’t shake him off.
Finally, you turned to look at him. His lips were parted in confusion, eyes fixed firmly on your face.
“Well, maybe I’d like the kind of relationship where you go on dates. The kind where kissing doesn’t always lead to sex. The kind where I know you’re not gonna be off with other girls the second I’m too busy to hang out.”
His face grew red. “That was one time! And we’d only slept together like, twice at that point! It was casual! We were casual!”
You sat up so that your face was level with his. “I don’t want casual.”
He frowned. “So you think Bucky can give you that? The kind of relationship you want?”
You drew back, brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s cool. If you’re seeing him too. I guess we never said we were exclusive or anything.”
“I’m not seeing Bucky. He’s a friend.” You wondered if your efforts to make Pietro jealous had gone too far. He looked hurt, one hand pressed against his chest.
“Right, but you have, yeah?”
You shook your head. “No. Not with Bucky. And I haven’t slept with anyone but you since winter break.”
He stared at you, disbelieving. “Me neither.”
“Pietro… are we dating?”
“… Maybe?”
“Do you wanna be?”
He exhaled sharply. You scooted in closer, nose almost touching his. The longer he went without speaking, the more this felt like a rejection. Still, you held your breath.
“I’ve done this all wrong, dragă,” he murmured. “Do you want to go out with me? On a date?”
Your nose brushed against his as you nodded, and then you grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in.
You were in his lap again, kissing him fervently and feeling the hot skin of his neck under your hands. It felt like he was everywhere at once, his tongue between your lips, his hands in your hair, his firm body under yours.
He rolled you over onto your back, and you felt a little breathless as he went straight for your neck. He already knew exactly how you liked it. He knew how to find and suck on that spot that would make you keen.
This time, though, when you gasped, it was for a different reason. Pietro didn’t notice. He was too busy biting your neck.
“Pietro,” you gasped, slapping his shoulders. “I saw a shooting star!”
He pulled back so that he was hovering over you. “What?”
“A shooting star. Look!”
He rolled over onto his back, but it was obviously long gone by the time he was in position. “I don’t see one.”
“You have to wait. Be patient.”
He groaned. You both knew patience wasn’t his strong suit. After about five minutes, his hand started creeping up your thigh. You put your hand on his, stopping him.
“You’re gonna miss the meteor shower,” you said.
“You’re prettier,” he said smoothly, but you rolled your eyes.
“We’re dating now, remember? You can see me whenever. You can only see the shooting stars tonight.”
He huffed, but turned back to the sky. “This is rigged, they never happen when I- Ohhh.” He gasped. “I saw one!”
His childlike glee warmed you. You rested your head on his shoulder, but he barely seemed to notice. He was too busy staring at the sky.
“They’re pretty, right?” you murmured.
“Beautiful,” he agreed.
“More beautiful than me?”
“Ehh, it’s close.”
You giggled and rolled over so that you could look at his face.
“And another thing,” you said, “you know Bucky wasn’t flirting with me, right? He and Steve have been banging since, like, the first week of college.”
“… No. I did not know that.”
---
Notes:
Preview of tomorrow's fic: Getting railed in a sundress by your dad's friend, Dmitri Antonov. Hopper!Reader.
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aurorarosesposts · 2 years
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Damian's changing! (Bats are a bit concerned) #DeadSerious
Hello everyone! Now as you can already tell, this is a crossover ship of dp x dc. I wasn't really interested in this ship tbh but reading 'Something is weird with Damian' by Tuka2002 on AO3 (if you see this, hi!!! Love your work) and it was stuck in my head lol. So I'm taking inspiration from the fic and making my own headcannons!
- For contexts, Damian meets Danny normally; ie. No enemies chasing one another, no trying to off each other, no nada! They have a normal meeting and they both decided they like each other (Damian took longer than he like to admit) and it started from there.
- They been dating for some time, Danny a bit older than Damian; about a few years apart. Damian hasn't told anyone about him meeting someone, only Jon (he's his best friend, sue him), and Danny couldn't keep it a secret for long before his sister and friends found out (They lie for him all the time, they know he's bad at lying too)
- Danny had such a good influence on Damian that the Batclan thought that he was being mind controlled. Even Jon at first was suspicious at Danny (because he worries for his friend).
- Danny is such a sweetheart; although his choice of clothes make him look like a gangster lol.
- No joke, he would wear all black, a leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders, gloves, heavy boots, a mask that looks like a muzzle, rides a bike and it doesn't help that he's almost 7 feet tall (courtesy of his father's genes) and pretty much brawn (due to all the ghost fighting).
- Bruce will have a heart attack when he first see Danny. Alfred will raise a eyebrow.
- But like I said, Danny's a sweetheart, he'll bring gifts, expensive or not (let's throw in some Ghost King hc's in) and spoil Damian rotten. He's a gentleman too, always opening doors for Damian and buying the things he likes (Jon will always teased him about it)
- As for Damian, he'll start to get 'soft' as his siblings like to put it. Don't get me wrong, he's still the snobby demon brat we all know and love; he's just tone it down a little. He starts caring for others little by little and he even stopped trying to off he's brothers (Tim is very alarmed at this)
- He starts wearing the gifts that Danny gives, mainly clothing and jewelry. The clothing are in pastels colours and Damian loves them. Now Bruce doesn't like any of his kids dating (sue him) but this is very alarming to him as he never see Damian like this (Little does he know that they been together for a while now) so he'll be extra protective; although Danny thinks it's very heartwarming and would not be phased (ayy) at all.
- The Bats are debating whether or not that Danny is a thread.
- I don't know how the Bats meet Danny (officially). It could be dramatic or they wait for Damian to tell or Danny could a suspect and Damian is trying to clear his name or it could just be a normal (or as normal as can be) meeting.
- Anyway you put it, it will be interesting (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
- As for their side job (*cough*cough), that up for debate cuz I really don't know about this one. They could have known what the other does but not the full picture or Danny has told him about him being Ghost King and in turn, Damian told him about being robin (They both did this because in Danny's part, he doesn't like lying to Damian and would like it out of the way when the relationship got serious; For Damian it's the same as Danny and also he knows he's not human and ask him if he's a meta)
That's about all! Do penny your thoughts cuz I really invested in this ship! (◕દ◕) Sorry if there are some grammar mistakes here and there lol.
On a side note: I realised that this would work for a lot of other ships, crossover or not, so feel free to take it as your own ^o^ Just tag me so I can see (and fangirl over) it.
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