#and yeah her dad is a waste of space but she does usually see him at least once or twice a week and she adores him

[fingertipsmp3]

Anyone else having an absolutely unhinged week or is that just me

[whimsicalworldofme]

Saving Grace: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Everyone’s feeling the after-effects of playing Never Have I Ever.

“How are you not dying right now?” Grace gave Steve the stink eye as he brought her some ibuprofen and a glass of water. The lights were still off in the bedroom and the blackout curtains were still drawn, but there were slight cracks through which sunlight seeped inside and made her head hurt. It wasn’t the worst hangover she’d ever had, but it was still a headache. The only thing remotely close to distracting her from it was the sight of her boyfriend in just his boxer briefs. “You drank more than me.”

“Apparently I can get drunk but not hungover,” he flashed an apologetic smile, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her and holding out the pills, waiting for her to take them from him before offering the water. “Um…I didn’t propose last night, did I? Everything’s a little fuzzy.”

“Propose?” Grace chuckled, then winced, her head killing her. She took the pills with a sip of water. “No,” she said. “But you did ask why we weren’t already married. In front of my dad.”

“Oh,” he cringed. “Bad move, huh?”

“I thought it was cute,” she admitted shyly, passing the glass back to him. “We have been together almost three years. I don’t think it’s unreasonable that it would come up.”

“Yeah?” He brightened. “Hm,” he set the glass on the nightstand, leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I don’t know,” he teased, “I don’t know if I could marry a woman who forgot to give me a birthday present.”

“I didn’t forget,” Grace shut her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to will away the headache. “I planned to give your presents to you after dinner when we were alone together. What I didn’t plan on was you getting too wasted to do anything after the party. They’re on the shelf in my closet if you want to get them.”

Like a child on Christmas morning, Steve popped up off the bed and hurried to Grace’s closet, which she didn’t keep all that much in, since her own room was just upstairs. He insisted however that she keep some clothes there, that way she wasn’t returning to the penthouse disheveled, rumpled, and clearly love drunk.

“How’d you get this up here?” He called from the closet, making her roll her eyes, noting her head didn’t hurt as badly after getting some water in her. “Did you bring your stepstool down from your dad’s kitchen?”

“Ha ha,” she grumbled as he came back into the room. She opened her eyes and saw the stack of wrapped gifts in his hands, looking so much smaller when he carried them. Everything looked smaller in his hands. “If there was any justice in this world, you’d be suffering worse than me right now and unable to joke about my height. Open them top to bottom.”

“Is the noise going to bother you?” He asked, sitting back down on the edge of the bed beside her, the stack of gifts in his lap. “I can wait until the hangover is gone.” He hesitated. “About how long does that take?” He asked, his face screwed up in confusion. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with people drinking, so I don’t actually remember. Do you want an ice pack? I heard those help.”

“The headache is already going away,” she assured him, propping herself up. “I usually get over them fairly quickly. Thank my dad’s genetics for that. C’mon, open ‘em. And no saving the paper,” she pointed a finger at him.

“You know I can’t do that,” he laughed and set the stack of gifts on a space of the bed between them before grabbing the first one and gently prying it open, keeping the paper pristine. “Oh wow,” he pulled out a set of artist’s charcoal and a new pocket sketchbook. “These are great quality,” he flipped the charcoal package over and read the back label. “And this sketchbook. Is this cover actual leather?”

Grace nodded, grinning giddily, eager to see how he would react to the rest.

“You went overboard, didn’t you?” He raised a brow at her.

“Just open the next gift,” she plucked it off the stack and held it out for him.

They had a standing rule about birthdays and Christmas, that gifts should be kept to a limit and under a budget of a hundred dollars total. It was something they’d implemented after the iPad. Grace had opted to ignore the rules just this once. Steve had been eyeballing art supplies for months, wanting to experiment with new mediums and styles, but he refused to spend the money on the supplies when he could buy more practical things or save for a house, something he’d been doing ever since he moved in to the tower. Grace watched happily as he opened one gift after the other, revealing colored pencils, paint pens, oil pastels, watercolors, acrylic paint sets, high quality paintbrushes, larger sketchbooks and pads of paper made specially for watercolor or acrylic paints, a tabletop easel, and several palettes for various types of paints.

“Grace,” he murmured her name, completely overwhelmed.

“No, no protesting that it’s too much,” she insisted. “You never would’ve bought this stuff yourself and it will last you forever, so it’s not too much.”

“What else could there possibly be?” He asked, plucking up the last box. He held it to his ear and gave it a gentle shake. “I’ve already unwrapped everything on my art supply wish list.”

“Maybe it’s something not on your wish list,” Grace replied.

She had come out from under the covers, her hangover headache gone. While he pondered over the last gift, she set about organizing and stacking the opened ones, setting them aside so he could put them in his art studio, which is what he called the spare bedroom. He’d bought a secondhand easel off the internet and found canvas artwork at thrift stores to paint over so he didn’t have to pay full price for new ones. Those and his art supplies were stashed in there, along with an old writing desk and his collection of art books. Grace had wanted to do the space up very professionally so it would be an actual art studio, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Are you going to open that or just keep shaking it?” She giggled, seeing him still holding the box to his ear.

“I’m trying to guess what it is,” he said, his face all scrunched up. His expression made her giggle harder. “Well, I can’t figure it out, so I guess I’d better open it.”

Grace watched, trying not to wiggle eagerly in her seat, as he gently peeled off the tape from one of the end seams on the paper and slid the box out. She snatched the paper away from him so he wouldn’t waste time neatly folding it, balling it up and tossing it aside to be dealt with later.

“You’re very excited about this one,” Steve chuckled. “Makes me wonder what exactly is in here,” he set the box in his lap and lifted off the lid, revealing a sealed envelope with the words ‘open me’ written on it. “Ok,” he cast a curious glance at her and she just grinned. He picked up the envelope and tossed the box onto the floor to join the wrapping paper. He slipped a finger under the flap and pried the envelope open. “Whoa,” he turned bright red but a smile lit his face as he pulled out a set of wallet size photos, alternating between gaping at them and gaping at the woman in his bed, in nothing but one of his shirts, then back again.

“Do you like them?” She asked, feeling very shy all of a sudden.

“Do I—whoo,” he let out a bit of a gasping breath. “This is,” he shook his head and looked at her, his cheeks and the tops of his ears red, “wow.”

“You’ve been saying you want sexy pictures for a while now,” Grace stared at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. “It took a while to find the right boudoir photographer, you know how the whole privacy thing goes, being who I am.” She shrugged.

“I…what…,” he tried to formulate a thought but couldn’t manage to string the words together. “Wow.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the photos fanned out in his hand. Hopping up from his seat, he went to his dresser and pulled his wallet from the top drawer he kept it in. Opening it up, he placed the photos carefully in one of the little card pockets. He pulled the top photo back out to look at it one more time with a smirk before putting it back, slapping the wallet shut and putting it away.

“I think the one in that set I bought you for your birthday is my favorite,” he grinned, coming back over to the bed and kissing her before sitting back down. “Thank you,” he kissed her again. “For all my gifts. They’re perfect.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled happily into his kiss. “I hope you make lots of beautiful art with the supplies.”

“Do you have work today?” He asked, leaning over her and grabbing the stack of art supplies, pulling them into his lap. Grace shook her head no. “Any plans with your dad?” Again, she shook her head. “I have an idea on how I’d like to break in some of these.”

“Oh?” Grace pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She had an image of the two of them sitting together in Central Park, sitting on a blanket and enjoying charcuterie and wine while he sketched and she read the next novel on her tbr pile. Just thinking about it, she could feel the sunshine on her face. “I’m free all day, so whatever you want to do, I’m in.”

An impish smile passed over his lips and his gaze fell momentarily to the supplies in his lap. He pulled the charcoal and a larger sketchpad out from the pile and set them on the nightstand on her side of the bed before getting up, the rest of his supplies in hand.

“You stay there,” he instructed. “I’m going to make you breakfast in bed.”

“Are you going to tell me what your idea is?” Grace called after him as he got to the bedroom door.

“You’ll see,” he winked at her before slipping out the door.

There didn’t seem to be any point in arguing with him. When Steve got an idea in his head, he had to make it happen. Her headache gone, Grace nestled under the covers and attempted to get some more rest. With the headache fading, she could listen happily to her boyfriend out in the kitchen, playing music lightly on his phone, pulling pans out of the cabinets, chopping things, and mixing. Soon she could hear the vent fan going and the light sizzle of something cooking. Sleep evaded her, so she decided to do a quick check of her phone. Her father had sent a text asking to be reminded to never play another drinking game again which made her snicker. He’d done almost as many shots as Steve, but he didn’t have the benefit of serum to prevent the hangover.

He's probably on death’s door. I should go check on him.

With a heavy sigh she got out of bed and went to the dresser to pull on a pair of her own pajama shorts. Shuffling out into the living room, she saw Steve standing at the stove, checking on a pan of something. The whole apartment was starting to smell heavenly, like sausage and coffee. The zip code had changed, the apartment was bigger and fancier, but it felt like home, and Grace took a second to savor the comfort of it and the bliss of the familiar sight of Steve in the kitchen. His lack of clothing added to the delight of the moment.

“Hey,” he caught sight of her as he turned to grab something off the counter. “I told you to stay in bed.” His brow furrowed in mock sternness. “Don’t make me carry you back there,” he pointed at her with a spatula.

“My Dad is suffering the ill effects of his own hangover,” Grace said as she came up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “I thought I’d do the good daughterly thing and see if I can help him. After the trauma we put him through last night, I figure it’s the least I can do.”

“I had a feeling he’d be suffering this morning,” he conceded. “I already made something for him, since Pepper’s not home to take care of him.” He had already put together a few sausage and egg sandwiches on English muffins and sealed them up in a plastic container, which he held out for her. “Ours will be ready in fifteen minutes. I expect you to be back in bed by then.”

“Look at you,” she giggled, taking the container before going onto her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips, her eyes flashing mischievous intent. “Giving orders.”

“I am a captain,” he laughed.  “The title isn’t just for show, you know.”

“I know, I know,” she cupped his cheek before giving him one more kiss and bouncing away. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or less.”

One of the benefits of living in a skyscraper where both her family and her boyfriend resided was the fact that she could travel from one apartment to the other, in her pajamas and barefoot, without judgement. Slipping out of the elevator and into the penthouse she made her way to the master suite, knowing she would find her father there. Sure enough, Tony lay sprawled out in the center of the bed, a sleeping mask over his eyes. She always found it oddly amusing that he slept in regular cotton pajama pants and tank top, like a normal person. For some reason, as a kid, knowing her dad was a billionaire, she had this expectation that he lived in luxurious clothes twenty-four-seven. Designer jeans and suits during the day, silk pajamas at night. None of that was true and she loved it about him.

“Dad?” she said and he let out a deeply pained moan. “You just had to go toe to toe with a guy who can’t get a hangover, huh?” She snickered.

“Uuugh, fucking serum,” he groaned and massaged his temples, the sleep mask still covering his eyes. “How is there no hangover cure by now?”

“I’ve got the closest thing,” Grace said, sitting down on the bed side him. Gingerly, she lifted the mask off his eyes, making him wince. One eye opened and he looked up at her, absolutely pitiful. “Steve made you sausage and egg sandwiches. Greasy and full of protein, the best thing for a hangover.”

“Bring me painkillers?” He pleaded.

“Of course,” she smiled and gently lowered his mask back over his eyes.

“Thankoo,” he mumbled.

Setting the container with the sandwiches down on his bedside table, she got up and made her way back out to the kitchen to retrieve some water and ibuprofen. When she got back into the room, her dad was sitting propped up against the headboard, an egg sandwich in hand, half gone already, the container in his lap, and the mask still over his eyes.

“You said Rogers made these?”” He asked, clearly not looking at her since his eyes were still covered, as he took another bite. “This is delicious.” He said with his mouth full. “I hate him.”

“You hate him?” Grace asked with a laugh, sitting down beside him again. She set the glass and pills down on the nightstand before gently prying the sleep mask off her father’s face. He squinted and frowned but didn’t fight her about it, unwilling to put down his sandwich. “Why do you hate him?”

Tony took another bite of his sandwich, one cheek puffing out like a hamster.

“Well for one thing, he’s doing unspeakable things to my daughter,” he huffed.

“He’s doing very nice, consensual things to your daughter,” Grace corrected and watched her father gag. “Drink some water and take your ibuprofen.”

With a withering glower, he set what remained of his first sandwich back in the container on his lap and grabbed the glass of water and ibuprofen pills, popping them in his mouth and downing the whole glass, setting it back on the table with a clunk. He scooped up the last bit of his first sandwich again.

“I hate him cause this sandwich is perfect,” he scowled. “Everything about him is perfect. S’why my dad loved him more than me.” He rolled his eyes and let out a scoffing laugh as he finished the first sandwich and went for the second. “Why can’t he be human like the rest of us?”

Grace felt a tight ache in her chest, knowing that her father felt truly insecure despite his joking tone. She crawled across the bed to sit beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. Tony paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth, and looked down at her. He kissed the top of her head before going back to eating.

“You know Steve isn’t perfect, right?” She asked gently, glancing up at him. He scoffed. “He has his strengths just like you have yours. You can’t make an egg sandwich, but he can’t program AI or build tech like you do. When you really look at it, you’re both just guys who want to help people and have assistive tech to do it, you’ve got your suit, he’s got the serum.”

“Seems pretty perfect,” he huffed around his final mouthful of sandwich.

“He snores,” Grace stated simply. Tony froze midchew, pulling away slightly so he could turn to look at her better. She lifted her head up from his shoulder and shrugged.

“You’re just making that up to make me feel better.”

“I wish I was,” she admitted. “It’s not, like, rattling the walls, but it wakes me up. A lot.”

Slowly, a shit-eating grin spread across Tony’s lips as he considered the flaw and likely whatever else might be imperfect about Steve.

“You can’t say anything to anyone about it, Dad,” she warned him. “Or I’ll be forced to reveal your secret flaws.”

“Grace Turner,” he feigned shock, “are you blackmailing your father? That’s not very shrinky of you.”

“I know how you operate,” she poked him lightly in the side, making him laugh. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” She glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table, checking the time. “I need to head back downstairs. Are you going to be ok up here? Steve has plans for us for the day.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug and kissing her temple. “Tell Capsicle thanks for the food.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Nine

[roastyoualive]

HEADCANON ASKS

@zoomingupthathill asked: is there a small habit that they do every day?

There are a few of them! One of the first things he does when he wakes up is make his bed. (Or, he tries to. Sometimes depression kicks his ass. But even just pulling the blankets kind of back into place helps.) It’s a habit he made himself keep up. In canon, it’s because his room is small, and he doesn’t want to make more work for his mom. Mess takes up space. Their apartment is tiny, and he has to fit basically all he needs in it - he doesn’t have room to let things pile up. It just won’t fit. And he feels bad leaving chores for his mom. He barely ever sees her, since she’s often working one of two jobs. A lot of the time he only gets an hour with her at most. He doesn’t want that wasted by cleaning. 

There’s also, subconsciously, the fact that his life is a mess that spiralled out of control the day his dad got arrested. He loved his dad and his dad loved him, and once Barron was gone, Warren lost everything. They had to move, his mom had to work around the clock, he lost his friends, and the super community ostracised him. It’s chaos. His room is one small thing he can control. He likes to keep it that way - it helps him feel more secure. 

In other verses, he likes having his room neat for different reasons - ranging from easy to up and leave to force of habit to conditioning - but yeah, he always makes his bed. It helps. 

Another habit he has is that he always checks the fridge door before he leaves the apartment. He usually has a to-do list there (though his chores never really change), and more importantly, sometimes his mom leaves notes there. There are days when those notes are the only communication he gets with her. It’s usually just little things. Notes that she’s going to be home late, what she got for dinner, that she loves him, that she hopes he has a good day at school. Typical mom things, but it means the world to him. 

He also makes sure he has his work uniform in his school bag. He has to go right from school to his job a lot of the time, and it’s easier to just get dropped off from the bus closer to the restaurant than go home and walk. He just needs to make sure he has everything he needs. 

Those are the main three! There are some smaller habits, too. He always double-checks to make sure the apartment is locked whenever he enters or exits the building. Given where he lives, that’s just common sense. He’ll double-check his desk(s) at school before he leaves, just to make sure he didn’t forget anything. He tries to do the same with his things at the restaurant and his book bag before he goes to sleep at night, but sometimes you’re just tired. (He’s tired a lot.) 

But yeah, that’s the big ones!

[prowlingthunder]

ooh! the clonebaby genderbender!?! And Supernova!

So hate to burst a bubble but the clonebaby genderbender is, unfortunately, not Star Wars. Tragedy. Based on an RP I did with a friend once upon a time ago, it's a Gundam Wing "we kid-cloned the pilots when they died" oc/self-insert fic where I inverted everyone's genders, including my OC (who went from "mom" to "dad") and the clones of the pilots, who went from seven sons to seven daughters. Yeah. Right now it's 300ish words and I don't know if I ever want to expand it but I can't find a bloody title I like for it so it's still in the WIP box.

Snippit: There were three ways to keep a secret that Nate knew. The first was to keep it totally to yourself. That wasn't going to work for Nate, exactly, since his secret wasn't some intangible thing. The second was to tell only one other person-- get the secret out of your system-- and then kill them. Two could keep a secret if one of them was dead. This was also not going to work for Nate, though he would happily kill anyone to keep his secret secure. The third way was tell everyone.

MEANWHILE, Supernova:

Supernova is a Star Wars fic for my Sith OC, Rama Eurynome, and it's potentially going to kick around until I write his canon that way I can smooth it up and make sure it sits neatly into canon, but. The summary is Rama Eurynome and Oriole have a. Contention about who's going to teach baby Anemone, whether she needs to be a Jedi or not, and things go. Badly. It covers part of Anemone's early Force lessons (critical because the Force Is Her Friend), and also covers Eurynome explaining to his baby girl what Jedi are, what Sith are, the difference between the two from his perspective, and also what are Hungry Stars.

Right now it's 4.6k and is a first draft, very rough, and also rather old. So it's still in the WIP box because it needs to be there. It isn't even a finished first draft.

Snippit:

“You want to know about the Jedi, you said?” Usually he tried not to say that title. Either of them. Sith and Jedi were omens and they were not good omens. But for all the knowledge he had gathered, it was wasted if no one learned it, and Anemone was his apprentice. He’d not deny her something so small. Bonus: lore-telling passed as bedtime stories. “Yes! Tell me?” “Hmm.. Do you see the sky outside, my little panther? All the stars, and the blackness in between?” He motioned to the tapestry of black velvet, diamonds glittering in patterns the locals had taught him and in patterns he sometimes made up to help the girl next to him sleep. No one could see Mirounga from this side of the Empire, after all. “That is the Force. All of it. We talked about the Force, you recall?” “The Force is in everything?” “Everything,” he confirmed. “They are the stars, and all the space between the stars. The stars make light so we can see them, and the space between stars does not. Sometimes the space between makes stars, and they light up like other stars. And sometimes the stars go dark,” sometimes they explode. Sometimes they turned into planets. But those were things his little girl didn’t need yet. “But they’re still stars.” “You and mommy are stars?” “And you.” He leaned down to tap their noses, prompting a sleepy giggle. He hated having to explain it, but better she learn now than later, even if he would just likely end up teaching her again tomorrow. “You are a little star too.” “Can you see me?” “I can see you.” She smiled. Eury grinned back a moment, and then let it fade away. “Sometimes though, the stars fall down and they get lost, or the stars between are made badly, and they get hungry being out of the sky like they are, so they eat everything around them. Little planets and moons but other stars too. They just swallow them right up.” “Noooo!” “Yes,” he told her gravely, but he wished it weren’t so even still. That was no way to live. “They eat and they eat and they eat, and they take other stars away from the sky, when they get that hungry, and it’s hard to make them stop.” Concern knitted across his daughter’s features, and it was a painfully evident feeling in the Force. He reached out to try to sooth it. “Daddy, are you afraid of the hungry stars?” Eurynome hesitated.

[bigheckinbraindrain]

Please don't be sad around me, I don't know what to do with it

If someone said that to you, please don't be sad around me, how would you feel that reflects on their empathy?

If I told you not to be sad around me, you would likely not feel open to sharing your feelings. It would most likely make you feel that I don't care about you (or about others in general), or that I am not a very good friend.

The real fact of it is the exact opposite. I DO what you to be comfortable around me. I do empathize. I do care. The problem is, I don't know HOW to react to your sad. I have no clue what to do if you cry. I can pat your back, I can hug you. I can listen. I can offer suggestions and my viewpoint on it, but the truth of the matter is, that I have no clue what to do with the situation.

For as long as I can remember, I've held a few "truths" about myself. Close friends, in conversation, have all likely heard "I always just thought I was unable to love" (always in reference to romantic relationships. I love my children, I love my grands, I love my friends). They've also known for a fact that I will listen when you're blue, but I don't really share my blue.

But you know what, I figured out why.

Like, I've actually figured out why I am the worst at negative emotions and dealing with them from others (and myself).

I don't know how.

I don't know how one is supposed to properly be open or receptive to others' pain like I should be.

I am the worst fucking case of WTF DO I DO?

I can empathize like crazy. You can tell me a story, completely devoid of emotion, and feel every single emotion it would cause. I can view stories from all sides and empathize with each of them. I CAN do all that, but it's internalized. Or maybe compartmentalized. Whatever, it's ized.

So like I said, I've figured out why.

When I was a kid, my life was... well, shit. I had an amazing father but I rarely got to see him (mom's fault, not dad's). I had a drunk, druggy mother. I had a drunk, druggy stepfather (for some time). My grandmother killed herself while drunk (intentionally). She was married to or dated a string of drunks. My grandfather was a drunk. My either mother's side just could not stand to be themselves without substances making them... not themselves.

My mother had no issues beating the fuck out of me, be it with a belt, a cheese board, her hand, or a nearby object.

She had no issues belittling me or making me feel like whatever I was saying was utter bullshit, stupid, tosh.

My mother constantly illustrated that I was nothing if not a pretty face (and let me know that I was not, at all, pretty), and that either I was useful or I was a waste of space and breath.

In the days she wanted to "educate" me on how to be a worthwhile human, she did so by telling me that my face was just not appeasing, and I need to hide as much of myself as possible under layers of makeup. She even got me a subscription to teen beauty magazines and let me know she did so so I would learn how to not look busted. That was very short-lived, she didn't like to spend money on me of course.

She also tasked me with raising my younger sister and keeping the house up. After all, ugly people have to find some way to be useful, right?

How does that play into my "don't be sad" thing?

I wasn't allowed to be sad around her. Ever. Crying was obnoxious and would get me yelled at and usually hit. Being sad was irritating and would get me yelled at and usually hit. Making noise, asking questions, wanting to do things... yeah, yelled at and usually hit.

As a child, and I do mean a very young child, it was literally beat into me that all emotions had to be hidden, kept to oneself, stored away.

That has equated to, in my adult life, not being able to share my feelings, but moreover, having no clue what to do when someone shares theirs.

To me, a best friend is someone that you talk to and share jokes with. Not someone you share your blues with.

Even my last therapist let me go, because I didn't share with him so there was nothing he could offer me.

I try to emulate how others process their feelings and how they react to people sharing theirs, but it's hard for me to see that and it become a natural reaction in my own life. Like, the fuck do I do when you're crying? The fuck do I do when I have no idea how to deal with my current life stressors or things that make me feel ... bad?

The fuck.

[sukirichi]

— just the two of us

request: I almost read all of your jujutsu kaisen writings and I love it. Your writing is really good! I do not know if a request about a fics🥞 about satoru gojo who is really in love and not very possessive with an oblivious reader. It will be fun to see Satoru try to flirt with her and she doesn't get it🤣

pairings: gojo x oblivious! reader

notes: THIS IDEA IS SO CUTEEE I absolutely loved every second of writing it! thank you for the request and I hope you like this! 🥞 breakfast has been served!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none, other than this is unedited and written humorously rather than seriously~

masterlist !

Gojo doesn’t know whether he’s lucky – or completely cursed – over the fact you’ve got no idea he’s so in love with you.

It’s a bright sunny morning, perfect for outdoor training, and he walks with you all the way to school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. You stretch your arms out in the sky to bask in the morning glow and warmth of the sun, sleeves pushed up to your forearms to “get that vitamin D.”

Satoru snickers at your statement, because you’d totally be getting a different kind of Vitamin D if only you’d notice him. Sometimes he wonders, if maybe you’d inherited the Six Eyes instead of him, would you finally be able to see him – or would you still remain unaware?

He doesn’t even know where it began. A year ago, Yaga introduced you as the newest staff member. You’d been so fidgety and nervous then, unsure of what to do and worried if maybe the kids wouldn’t love. They did, of course, how could they not. Not only were you extremely fun to be with, you’re also caring, fretting and even crying whenever one of the students got injured over a mission.

Shoko reminds you all the time that this should be normal for you by now, but you always cry every time, sobbing that they’re still only kids and should be out having fun.

Yeah, maybe that’s where it began. Your kindness struck a chord in Satoru’s heart, and before he knew it, he was falling for you. Hard. Next thing you know, he shows up five minutes before you leave for work, mock-saluting you before inviting you to breakfast. He does this every damn day, and you still don’t get a single thing.

“That café was really good,” you muse, fingers stretching outwards and giggling as the sun peeks through the spaces. Satoru sighs beside you, wanting nothing more than to slip his fingers through those softer ones. “We should go back there sometime. Maybe even take the kids with us this weekend so we can all have breakfast together!”

Satoru masks a snicker with a cough. It reminds him of the time Megumi called you mom and dad by accident, to which you happily responded with before tackling the boy in hugs, while the strongest jujutsu sorcerer only flushed in embarrassment.

Him being him though, Satoru played it off cool, flipping his hair before striking a pose. “Huh, a dad?” he smirks, “The only person who gets to call me daddy would be no one else but Y/N.”

The raven haired first year student immediately recoils in disgust. Meanwhile, the innuendo flies straight through you, and you peer up at him innocently with your head tilted to the side. “Daddy? Why would I call you my dad? My father is still alive and well, and I don’t see you marrying my mom or anything,” Just as Megumi nearly howls in laughter – another evidence that you’re really something else to get the usually stoic boy to lose his composure like that – you snap your fingers, the light bulb above your head practically shining. “Oh, I get it! You prefer younger women and you want them to call you that! Kind of like the hype for onii-chan nowadays.”

Hopeless, Satoru wants to say, you’re absolutely, utterly hopeless.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs nonchalantly, sending a smirk your way. It usually drives everyone crazy, but you only smile back up at him in the same way you smile with everyone, and he tries his best to not show his shoulders are deflating. Nevertheless, he doesn’t give up. “How about you and I go out somewhere this weekend? The movies, perhaps?”

Say yes, say yes – please say yes.

Really though, he’s waiting for that ‘no’ already. Satoru knows you always go out of town during the weekends to visit your family in the countryside, only coming back on Monday the next week with a basket of fruits and traditional goods that isn’t so easy to find in the city.

But then you clasp your hands together in excitement, lashes fluttering delicately as you beam up at him. “Really? You’d like to go to the movies with me?”

“Of course I would,” Satoru tries not to stutter, hiding the fact that he’s completely taken aback. He’s the Gojo Satoru for heaven’s sake, he shouldn’t be this affected by anyone’s presence. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you were busy. This Saturday, then?”

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, it’s actually happening – his mind was barely functioning at this point, and he even slapped his cheeks to snap him back to life. “I thought there was a fly,” he lied with a chuckle, “But yeah, Saturday. I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, sure!”

Satoru wouldn’t stop smiling the whole way to the school. Even when Yuuji had face planted into the ground and Megumi sprained his ankle from training, he wasn’t able to get rid of the ridiculously big smile that stretched across his lips. He’s floating in cloud nine, flowers erupting from his ears and heart-shaped emojis bursting in his background.

“Well, you look creepy,” Shoko commented in the faculty room the moment you excused yourself, “Did you land a date with her or something?”

“That I did,” he stated proudly, even banging his fist on his chest like a deranged form of King Kong.

“I can only hope Y/N makes it out alive,” Nanami announces from behind the newspaper he’s reading, legs crossed over another before he peeks above the paper, narrowed eyes dead set on the blindfolded man. “Don’t be too wild with her, Satoru. She’s a gentle soul despite being a sorcerer – I humbly suggest you don’t mess with her feelings.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the one messing with my feelings by being so fucking cute all the time!”

“Who’s cute?”

Shoko nearly spits out her coffee the moment you enter, glancing around the room and sitting down next to a shock-still Satoru. Nanami only huffs in his seat with a shake of his head. It doesn’t take long before Satoru regains his confidence and recovers from his shock – he’s turned to you with his torso completely facing your way.

You bask in the attention, mimicking the gesture until your faces are mere inches from one another. The fact you’re so responsive and attentive to him yet still painfully naïve strikes a mental war of himself debating whether he wants to kiss you or knock your head upside down. Satoru chooses neither options as he leans closer, his smile growing wider when you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t stop moving until his lips are right beside the shell of your ear.

“You’re cute.”

Shoko shudders at the same time Nanami just gives up on everything, folding his paper and lying that he’s got someplace to go with Ichiji. Satoru patiently waits for your reaction; for you to crumble this time around.

You’re silent for a moment, brows almost right across each other when you register his words. Satoru ends up holding his breath for your next words, wondering: is this it? will she finally understand what I feel for her now?

Even Shoko ends up sitting at the edge of her seat, silently watching the exchange with interest barely hidden in her sparkling eyes. Satoru watches as your lips open, his eyes transfixed on the way the soft flesh moves. They tilt upwards, revealing a set of a wide smile – the smile he can never get enough of. “Thank you!” you giggle at his compliment, “You and Shoko are very cute too! And the kids too, especially Toge! Not that I’m saying he’s my favourite—”

“He’s definitely your favourite student,” snorts Shoko who is ignoring the way Satoru turns completely gray beside you.

It turns out you still haven’t figured it out after all.

“The kids this – the kids that,” the tall, lanky man whines, his head falling back on the back of the leather couch. He looks so utterly defeated you can’t help but lean over him to check if he’s okay, but Satoru pouts and hides his face under his uniform instead. “Why can it never be just the two of us?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

This time, you’ve kneeled on the couch to hover him. You even pluck one side of his blindfold off to see how he’s doing, and suddenly thankful you can’t see the way his cheeks are absolutely flaming right now. 

“Nothing,” he assures, his smile hidden behind his shirt. You look absolutely adorable hovering over him like that – eyes wide and lips pouty – what he wouldn’t give to kiss those lips right now, but it isn’t the right time, and Satoru just needs to find a better way to tell you how he feels. “It’s nothing.”

It’s absolutely not nothing.

Saturday couldn’t come faster.

Satoru finds himself willing time to go faster. Once the awaited day finally comes, he wastes no time in choosing his best outfit; an oversized black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans before styling his hair up the way he likes.

He winks at his reflection in the mirror, going ooh and aah at how hot he looks. It’s another reason why he can’t comprehend why you don’t like him yet, when, uhm, he knows he looks damn good? He’s pretty funny too – and his strength and power is already a no-brainer. Satoru can’t wrap his head around any possible reason why you wouldn’t like him; it’s basically a life or death mission at this point.

With that end goal in his mind and a spritz of perfume later, Satoru sashays out his apartment. Even though it’s already dark outside and he spent the whole day walking back and forth in his room trying to come up with ways to confess to you, he acts coolly all the way to your apartment.

This time around, he’s more than confident. He’s going to have you wrapped around his pretty little finger, “Wow,” is the first thing he says, pulling his blindfold down just to look at you.

Satoru feels blessed in that exact moment to witness how the heavens took their time with you, creating only the best out of the best and birthing the most magnificent person ever. Suddenly, he grows an urge to run to the countryside and thank your parents for going funky one night and creating you, because you’re an absolutely magnificent gift and it really baffles him how you’re real.

“Wow,” he repeats again, and you chuckle when he shakes his head. “You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you look him up and down, smiling in satisfaction. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Satoru’s been called handsome a million times before that it’s gotten too much in his head already, but hearing it come from your lips hits different. If he was excited before, it’s nothing compared to what he feels now when you loop your arm through his, dangling off his arm like you were a lover.

He knows it’s not real and this is probably just a friendly date for you – something he intends to clear up later – but it doesn’t stop him from puffing his chest up a bit, almost as if bragging to everyone around you that he was the one you’re with, and that he was the one you’re going to the movies with.

All your babbles about everything goes straight into one ear and out the other. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but he’s so intoxicated with your voice that he just ends up nodding at everything you say; his attention mostly on how sweet you sound and smell.

His feelings only intensify a hundred times more when you finally make it to the theatre. Not only is it dark, but you’re sitting right next to him, arms and thighs brushing against each other. He takes note of every little movement you make, smiling to himself when you don’t pull away from his thigh flush against yours.

In this close proximity, your perfume overwhelms his senses. He finds himself leaning closer just to get a little more taste of it, his arm resting on the armrest beside him and placing his cheek on his open palm.

He doesn’t even know what the movie is about. All he can see, hear, feel and recognize is you – nothing and no one but you. Just as he wanted, it’s just the two of you.

Satoru reaches out to the bowl of popcorn in his lap to distract himself from the need of kissing you already. He was so smug that he’s on this date with you; now he feels like the world is laughing and mocking at him because you’re so close yet so far away. The last thing he wants is to say something weird and have you running for the hills. It’s clear you don’t like him, after all.

You end up reaching for it the same time he does, making your fingers brush. It sends a jolt of electricity down his spine and he immediately retracts it.

Looking up at him with an apologetic smile, Satoru knows he’s messed up. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, raising your hands in surrender with a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve gotten my own bowl instead.”

Satoru stares at you through his blindfold. You’re close enough that he can count your lashes – both top and bottom row – and he’s so stupefied at this point that he just says the first thing that comes to his mind; absolutely anything just to get your attention. “Cold,” he shows you his hand, “I’m cold.”

“Oh,” you nod and slip your fingers through his. Satoru nearly gasps at how electrifying the sensation is from having your smaller, softer fingers collide with his, your hands fitting perfectly in his bigger, calloused ones. Then, you close your intertwined hands and smush your cheek with it to transfer your heat – completely unaware that Satoru feels like he’s floating in his own Infinite Void right now. “Feel warmer now?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Extremely.”

Something beast-like wakes within him after that. Now that he knows you don’t mind touching him at all, Satoru can’t help but want to take out all his playing cards and just go fuck it. So he does – and he might regret, he might not – who cares? It’s just the two of you, and you’re the only one he ever cares about this much that he’d pretty much let you do anything at this point.

“You know,” Satoru begins, shifting until your joined hands are resting on top of his chest. His heart is just about ready to burst through its confines at this moment, but he holds back. It’s now or never. “Shoko and Nanami are annoyed that I talk about you all the time.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. “Really? Do you talk badly about me or something?”

“No,” he nearly groans in frustration, “You’re really pretty and cool. You’re amazing during missions, too, when you fight, it’s like I’m witnessing a warrior princess. So cool.”

This makes you laugh until the person sitting behind you rudely shushes you. You bow your head in apology, turning to Satoru with a softer smile this time; one that looks reserved and private compared to your big grins. “Oh, no,” he closes his eyes even behind his blindfold, “Don’t smile at me like that. I don’t think I’ll still be cool if I end up stuttering over my words.”

“Satoru!” you whisper-hiss, although your chest is filled with so much giddiness too that you’ve both forgotten about the movie; unaware that the entire theatre was crying over the main character’s friend’s death. “What are you going on about?”

He wants to laugh so damn hard. He thought confessing his feelings for you would end up in a pitiful heartbreak that you’d be weirded out and push him away. For a moment, he forgets it’s you, and that nothing is ever difficult or painful with you – other than, of course, you being oblivious, but that isn’t something he can’t fix. He’ll get you on the train one way or another.

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I was practicing how to ask you out for a whole hour in the mirror,” Satoru whispers, careful to not ruin the melancholic mood of theatre. It doesn’t even surprise him that his world is filled with nothing but sunshine even if the world around you has descended into grief and loneliness. “I also called Nanami on first date tips.”

“Nanami?” you echo with a gasp, “Why Nanami?”

“Because he’s married, that’s why. Mans know some tips for sure.”

“Wait, so,” you chuckle nervously, and Satoru waits, waits for you to pull away or push him back – anything that would indicate discomfort. He’s patient the whole time, watching carefully as you only squeeze his hand and gesture to the both of you with your free one. “This is a date? Our first date?”

“Only if you want to be,” Satoru shrugs, grimacing afterwards at how sappy he sounds. “Well, I actually consider this our first date and I’ve been waiting for this for like forever now, so I sure as hell hope you want this too. I didn’t dress myself up today only to come back home crying.”

Satoru’s heart – if possible – only beats crazier and sings the syllables of your name when you start laughing harder to the point you have to muffle it by burying yourself in his bicep. He feels like his muscles and nerves could erupt at any moment. It’s crazy – absolutely insane – how you have him wrapped around your finger like this. He doesn’t complain though; he never will.

“I’m glad,” you mumble through his shirt, your erratic heartbeat matching kiss when you take the first tentative step of kissing his jaw.

Satoru stiffens underneath you, a low growl ripping from his throat. He’s feral, wild, drunk at the sight and scent of you. You make him feel like he’s fluctuating between dimensions, all the planets just crashing on one another until the stardust is left in your eyes because what else could be an explanation for what he’s feeling other than a supernova collision of hearts?

“You always make me feel so happy when you’re around that I still can’t believe you feel the same way. I was so worried that maybe you wouldn’t get my hints.”

Satoru groans, “What the hell? How long have you liked me?”

“I guess when you started bringing flowers to Megumi randomly just to piss him off.”

Satoru wants to rip his hair out. That was just a few weeks after you’ve started working with him, meaning you both have liked each other this whole time and he’s been suffering and feeling stupid just for nothing?

“God, Y/N,” he mutters to himself, “You really do know how to make a man go crazy, huh?”

That innocent smile on your face lets him know that as usual, you’re oblivious of everything. Satoru is right; he still can’t decide whether he wants to whack you in the head upside down. With a sigh, he ends up choosing the latter, nearly falling over his seat when you let out a surprised yelp at the feeling of his lips on yours.

It doesn’t take long before you grab onto his shirt and cling to dear life, laughter bubbling through your lips as you kiss. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life, but Satoru doesn’t rush anything.

With you and only with you is he ever capable of feeling like it’s just the two of you in a world filled with chaos and destruction.

[bellakitse]

The one I can’t live without

“Am I okay?” he hisses like a rattlesnake. “My boyfriend just took a swan dive off a four-story building with an asshole with a gun. What do you think, Carlos? Does that sound okay?”

Carlos does something reckless at work upsetting TK.

Written for @911lonestarangstweek - Day 1: Emotional whump + “How do we fix this?”

In hindsight, Carlos probably shouldn’t have been so flippant in the sight of TK’s worry.

He’s running on adrenaline. They’re in the middle of a standoff on the roof of a four-story apartment building with him between an erratic gunman on the ledge and his girlfriend. He’s trying to talk the man into lowering his gun when his radio goes live, letting him know the rescue cushion has been inflated below them, and he cringes as it causes the man before him to lose the last bit of grip he has on the situation. He doesn’t stop to think; he sees the man’s trigger finger start to pull back, and Carlos rushes forward, his arms going around the guy’s waist. Next thing Carlos knows, they’re in the air freefalling before landing on the giant cushion.

Screaming and orders are being shouted as he rolls off the cushion with his arms still around the man. He lets him go to grab his cuffs before standing him up and passing him over to his partner, finding a look of exasperation on her face.

“You’re either the bravest or dumbest son of a bitch I know, Reyes,” she says with a shake of her head before tilting it in the direction of a series of first responder vehicles. “Get your ass over there to make sure you still have your brains in the right place, though after this stunt, I have to wonder.”

Carlos rolls his eyes but does what she says, starting to make his way over to the paramedics.

“By the way,” she calls out, causing him to look back at her. “Your man is over there spitting nails.”

Carlos winces, just now noticing the number on one of the rigs. He continues walking over, feeling dread as he spots Paul and Judd and sees the pitying looks on their faces as he passes them. He sees Tommy and Nancy first. They seem to be forming a barrier with their bodies, and he quickly realizes it’s because TK is behind them, sitting on the edge of their rig with his head between his knees, taking in deep breaths.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asks, concerned, stepping around them only to step back when TK snaps his head up to look at him, his green eyes flashing.

“Am I okay?” he hisses like a rattlesnake. “My boyfriend just took a swan dive off a four-story building with an asshole with a gun. What do you think, Carlos? Does that sound okay?”

“TK – “ he starts to say with what he hopes is a calming voice. It seems to do the exact opposite as TK turns redder, his face twisting into a nasty scowl.

“Of all the reckless, stupid, boneheaded things to do,” he rants. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking  at all – “

Carlos scoffs, and even though his brain is screaming at him not to continue, he can’t help himself when TK gives him a challenging look at the sound. “That’s a little hypocritical coming from you, don’t you think? Reckless is kind of your trademark.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say the second the words are out of his mouth. He expects TK to curse him out if he’s honest. What he isn’t expecting is the flash of hurt he sees cross TK’s face or the way his hand trembles. He feels his stomach drop unpleasantly as TK’s eyes shine wet, and he’s more than ready to apologize when TK turns towards his Captain.

“Captain Vega,” he starts, his voice shaking slightly. “If you would please check Officer Reyes over. I’ll go check on the girlfriend and make sure she’s okay.”

He notices Tommy look over at him, but his focus is on TK and how he won’t look at him anymore.

“Sure, TK,” Tommy answers kindly, her voice motherly the way he’s heard it at times with both her people. “Nancy, go with him.”

“You got it, Cap,” Nancy answers, putting herself on the side of TK to act as a barrier once again when they pass him. He thinks of reaching for TK anyway, but the glare Nancy gives him as she walks by stops him in his place. Instead, he watches them walk away, his dread growing with every step TK takes away from him.

Tommy clears her throat, forcing Carlos to turn back to her. He feels his face go hot at the judging look he finds on her face.

“Well,” she starts to say, letting out a loud breath. “That was an idiotic thing to say, wasn’t it?” she questions bluntly, and Carlos can’t help but cringe before nodding.

Tommy’s expression softens a bit at that. She rolls her eyes at him before waving him forward. “Well, come on, let’s get you checked out,” she motions to where TK had been sitting, probably hyperventilating because Carlos dove off a damn building – fuck he’s an idiot.

“TK might be pissed at you right now, but I guarantee the first thing he’s going to ask when he comes back is if you’re okay. It will go a long way to get you out of the doghouse if I tell him you’re fine. Then you can apologize for the stupid thing you just said when the man that loves you was on the verge of a panic attack over your safety,” she finishes pointedly, making him feel worse if possible.

 ֎֎֎

 He doesn’t get to apologize.

Mitchell comes over to tell him they’re wanted back at the station before TK and Nancy come back to the rig. He goes reluctantly; he knows he has a job to do, but he hates the idea of leaving things unsettled with TK.

Tommy sees his hesitation, her expression softening once more as she gives him a slight shove and lets him know that she’ll tell TK he’s okay. He nods, grateful, and asks her to tell TK if he can please text him, getting a nod back from the medical Captain.

He gets that text he’s waiting for hours later when he’s gotten home. Only it’s not with the message he’s hoping for, whatever that might be. Instead, it reads: ‘Spending the night at my dad’s. I’ll call you.’

Nine simple words that make his stomach clench with unease. He wants to call TK, but his eyes keep falling on the last three words of the text.

‘I’ll call you.’

The message is clear for Carlos to understand. TK doesn’t want him to reach out before he’s ready to talk to him.

He looks at his kitchen, prepped for an apology dinner he had planned of coconut curry ramen, and sighs as he starts putting things away. He loves cooking for TK, having him sit on his counters with a smile on his face as he watches him work, stealing kisses from him after he lets him taste a sauce. It’s not the same as cooking for one anymore.

As a matter of fact, he quickly realizes through the rest of the evening that his apartment isn’t the same without TK. He’s known for a while that his boyfriend spends a lot of time at his place, but Carlos hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to it until now that they’re fighting and he’s not there.

He eats cold cereal half-heartedly and then heads upstairs. Usually, he and TK would cuddle on the couch after dinner, only half paying attention to whatever was on tv as they exchange kisses and touches. Not having that tonight, knowing that it’s by his own doing, leaves him feeling despondent. He gets ready for bed, already knowing that it’s going to be a restless night. The only times he sleeps alone these days is when TK has an overnight at work.

He lays in bed feeling agitated and miserable as he turns to face TK’s side of the bed, hating how it’s cold to the touch when he extends his hand to touch the space. He wants to reach out and have his fingertips find his boyfriend’s warm body there.

He falls into a fitful sleep, startling awake when he hears movement in his bedroom. Sitting up, he inhales a sharp breath as he spots a tense TK by the door, the light of the hallway illuminating him. Turning on the bedside lamp, he plays with the covers as they stare at each other, nervous energy crackling between them.

“I’m still pissed at you,” TK finally speaks, his brow pinched. “But I can’t sleep without your arms around me anymore,” he whispers, obviously more upset than angry.

Carlos swallows hard, hating to see TK like this and knowing he’s the cause. “How do I fix this?”

TK lets out a sigh, and pushing his shoes off, comes over to the bed, sitting down on it. “I think the real question is how do we fix this,” he corrects him, giving him a sad smile. “And unfortunately, the answer is there is no real way to fix it. I was so scared for you today because I’m so in love with you, so unless I decide to stop loving you, I’m always going to be scared when you’re in a dangerous situation,” he finishes with a wry chuckle that sounds accepting of his fate. It makes Carlos’ heart break and fills with hope simultaneously.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Carlos whispers. He slowly reaches out, touching his fingertips to the hand TK has resting on the bed, letting out a sigh when TK turns it, taking a firmer hold.

“Yeah, that was dumb,” TK answers dryly, his eyebrow raised in challenge for a moment before he lets out a sigh of his own. “But you weren’t wrong. I have made you worry about me more than once on the job.”

“Yeah,” Carlos breathes out, thinking of TK getting shot, of the minefield and his abduction. Each time Carlos had his heart in his throat, but never did TK dismiss it the way he did today. “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting out a breath when TK’s expression softens.

“I know you are,” TK says softly. He moves, laying back on the bed, his arms open to Carlos.

Carlos doesn’t waste a second. He sinks into TK’s frame, relieved to be back in his embrace, closing his eyes when TK presses a kiss to his forehead.

“We have to be more careful out there,” TK says against his brow. “The both of us.”

Carlos nods in agreement. He thinks back to how lonely his place felt all evening without TK and lets himself voice the thought that has been echoing in his mind all night. “We have someone important waiting for us to come back home in one piece to.”

TK touches his chin, tipping his head up to look him in the eye. “The most important person in my life,” he tells him with a gentle smile, and Carlos knows he’s been forgiven completely.

“The one I can’t live without,” Carlos whispers back, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he takes in the shine in TK’s eyes at his words.

“Yeah, the one I can’t live without,” he whispers back before covering his mouth with his, kissing him gently.

Carlos returns it, deepening it as he grows desperate for more, his hands reaching out under TK’s shirt to touch the warm skin he was yearning for earlier.

TK answers his touch by pulling back long enough to pull the shirt over his head, turning as he rolls Carlos over, covering him with his body, and kissing him thoroughly and deeply. Carlos lets out a whine when TK breaks the kiss, pressing smaller, softer ones over his cheeks and nose as Carlos makes another sound.

“We should sleep,” he says quietly, shaking his head when Carlos protests. “It’s been a long day, it’s late, and you jumped off a building. You can’t tell me you’re not tired.”

Carlos tries to argue only to let out a yawn that makes TK laugh.

“Thought so,” he continues smugly. “Sleep, sweetheart. We can pick this up in the morning.”

“Fine,” Carlos pouts, his eyes already growing heavy, causing TK to chuckle again.

He watches as TK stands to remove his pants before getting back in bed.

“Can I hold you?” he questions nervously.

“Yes, please,” TK breathes out, turning his back to him, letting out a sigh when Carlos throws an arm around him, tucking his face into his neck, breathing in that uniquely TK scent.

“I love you,” he mumbles into the skin, exhaling as TK squeezes his arm.

“I love you too, baby,” he answers, sounding just as tired as Carlos. After their emotional day, it makes sense he’s so worn out.

Carlos closes his eyes, finally relaxing for the first time all day with TK back in his arms.

[ginanosakka]

You’re Wrong

Masterlist

The Scars You Hide | Next

You tried to focus on the words of the textbook in front of you, but after an hour of studying, it was becoming hard to care about what stops you from flying out of a car when you turn and how to create a math equation out of it. It didn’t help that it was late in the night that you finally found time to study, your mother dragging you out on a shopping spree where you were forced to smile and nod at whatever she wanted you to wear.

‘I don’t understand why everyone likes shopping so much,’ your thoughts ran off as you looked at the new clothes that laid in the bags sprawled across the floor for your maid, Jun, to put up while you were at school tomorrow morning.

When your phone dinged you jumped at the sound, but before you could even check what the message was and who sent it, something hard smacked against your window. With your unchecked phone in hand, you crept towards the window, cursing your parents for giving you the room on the first floor of your enormous home. Pulling the curtains gently as if whatever had come knocking wouldn’t notice you, you peeked outside and immediately let out a breath of relief.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered after throwing your window open and pushing your curtains to the side.

Katsuki stood outside your home, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants paired with those combat boots he seemed to love more than life. He looked nuts, and maybe he was if he decided to jump your gate and throw things at your window, but the look on his face told you that this wasn’t a time to give him shit on his matching skills.

“Just let me in, dork.” He grunted, and you complied silently by stepping to the side.

That was the first night of many nights when Katsuki couldn’t bare to be alone with his thoughts and came to you to fill in the silence with nonsense. He’d let you complain about your mother, your father, and your maid with only short responses and noises of acknowledgment. When he’d finally jump back out your window at an absurd time, something you worried about since Mina told you how he had a set bedtime for himself, you’d lay in bed with your heart full until you could finally sleep.

Maybe it was how much you talked and complained about your superficial problems. . maybe that’s why everyone hated you.

“You have to talk to her!” Mina huffed, tailing behind Katsuki on his patrol, both of them on duty protecting the city.

Obviously, Mina was more worried about rekindling a fire that was never truthfully lit than stopping a mugger.

Katsuki was doing his best not to shout at her, after the restaurant incident, he’d been forced to do damage control on his image. The reports wasted no time making a story out of it, calling him a temperamental monster for yelling at you. When he watched the video back on a popular tabloid site, Katsuki couldn’t help but agree as he saw the look in your eyes. Still, that was probably nothing to how you looked when he walked away all those years ago, but it’s not like he looked back then.

All it took was meeting you again for you to start taking over his life again, not only conquering his media image in hours, but also his mind with all the hypotheticals. It was hard for Katsuki to see himself as a father, but he’d been one for six years without even knowing. He wondered what your son looked like now and how he acted. Did he have a short temper? Does he even have a quirk?

That was another thing that bothered him; the fact that he didn’t feel any emotions about whether or not his child was quirkless. His whole life he saw people without quirks as weak — he couldn’t count the times he mentioned you being quirkless, let alone Deku — but it was like he couldn’t draw any anger or disappointment at the thought of his son being perfectly average. After looking at that picture, all he wanted to do was get to know his own flesh and blood, and he was still pissed that you took that away from him.

“I don’t want to talk to her and I never will. I’ll take her to court to get my kid if I have to, but I want nothing to do with some spoiled princess.” Katsuki spat, and Mina was beginning to get fed up with how he refused to listen.

She snatched him by the arm, forcing him to turn around and look at her. Even now Katsuki’s glares still sent a shiver down her spine, but she was much more frustrated than scared right now. His red eyes went against her black and yellow ones, neither of them being acknowledged by bystanders who moved around them on the assumption that this was just two heroes discussing something they had no business listening to. That was only kind of correct.

“Her dad threw her out when he found out! She had no one but herself, Katsuki! . . . I don’t even know how she’s surviving, and by talking to her and helping her, you’ll be helping Ryu.”

Katsuki’s glare melted at the last word she spoke and he found himself whispering, “his name is Ryu.”

The tension had vanished into thin air at the mention of his son’s name, the warmth that engulfed his body not being one he’d ever felt before. He’d never even met the kid and he already had Katsuki wrapped around his finger, and Mina knew it. A grin spread across her face when she realized it, and with that, the first phase of her plan was complete. Neither of you may know it, but the son you two shared could bring you two together.

“How was school?” You asked Ryu as you both walked home from his daycare, the school being a small walk from your cozy home and quite safe due to being in the less populated area of the city.

“Boring,” he snorted and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his displeasure. “No one cares about my quirk because stupid Nora can glitter in the sunlight!”

“Does it matter? You like your quirk, don’t you?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. . Did you ever get bullied for not having a quirk, mom?” Ryu looked up at you, his big e/c wide and curious for what kind of answer you’d give him.

‘Why do children have to ask tough questions? What happened to why the chicken crossed the road?’ You sweat dropped, and quickly tried to come up with a soft but honest answer.

You didn’t lie to Ryu about things, not even about why he was now your only family, but you didn’t present him hard truths that you didn’t think he was ready for. Basically, you gave a blanket answer; a broad answer that wouldn’t hurt him. He was only five after all, why the hell did a five year old need to know about dishonor and abandonment?

“Well, no,” you started gently. “My dad, your grandfather, kind of made sure that didn’t happen and I didn’t know that I was a thing until I was older.”

Until I met your dad.

You ran a hand through his hair and pulled him closer as you walked, “and now I definitely don’t need a quirk when I have you to protect me, right?”

Ryu smiled a smile so bright that you wondered if he could rival the sun, and it warmed you to the very core. That smile was what you lived for, it was the reason you found yourself and wanted to be better. You couldn’t imagine where’d you’d be right now if he hadn’t changed your whole world, the thought of living in your father’s shadow being unthinkable now. You’d trump him, you’d trump his entire company, and you’d trump everyone who used you.

‘I’m strong because of you.’

“Of course, I’m your hero!” Ryu cheered.

“That’s right,” you chuckled.

You came up on your house, and the smile and warmth you once had was taken from you so suddenly that you stopped in your tracks a few feet away from your door. Ryu gasped from beside you and you heard his bag drop to the floor, but you knew his shock was the complete opposite of yours. Both of you were looking at the tall blonde man that stood in front of your door, leaning against it staring into space until he heard the bag drop. His red eyes fell on the both of us and you stopped breathing, not sure of what to do, or better yet * what he’d do.

“You’re Dynamight!” The first words were spoken by your son, his high pitched voice nearly yelling those words as he took a few steps forward.

You watched Katsuki’s reaction carefully, trying to prepare yourself to get Ryu away from him if he even so much as snapped at him. This wasn’t how you wanted them to meet — you didn’t want them to meet at all — and from your last interaction, you weren’t sure if he even wanted to meet Ryu. Yet all you could do was watch for the time being.

Katsuki looked him dead in the eyes, his usual resting bitch face, but there was something soft about it that shocked you. He was in his hero uniform, probably coming straight here from whatever hero work he was doing, and there was no question on who told him your address.

You’d most definitely be strangling a certain pink pixie later.

“Yeah, you’re Ryu, right?” Katsuki said, talking the next few steps towards him and bending down to be his height.

Ryu’s face was out of your sight, but you could imagine he was exploding with happiness. “Yeah! How did you know? Did you come to recruit me for your agency?! Mom, did you know?”

‘If I knew he was coming I would have sent you across the country.’

“I didn’t, but why don't we invite Mr. Dynamight in? He’s probably tired,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah! Come in, we can talk about hero stuff and I can show you my toys!”

Ryu took Katsuki’s hand as you walked past them, brushing Katsuki’s shoulder gently and ignoring how your body yearned to feel that warmth more closely. You unlocked the door and let Ryu lead him in, closing the door behind them and taking off your heels. Both of you were technically still in work attire, yours being business casual while his was. . hero official?

Katsuki was probably unnerved by Ryu’s talkative nature, but you simply went to the kitchen like you usually did when you got home and rummaged the cabinets for your tea. As long as they were both in close range, you could take a second to pull yourself together so you don’t throw your child’s idol and father out of your home if he so much as breathes in a way you didn’t like. If you were to act out now, you’d really have to sit down with the boy, and if you weren’t ready for them to meet, you certainly weren’t ready for that.

Your tea kettle didn’t even get to whistle before you took it off the stove, pouring the piping hot water into a cup with your tea and adding the sugar. The noise had died down in the living room where you could hear Ryu tell Katsuki all he knew about him — which was a lot — and you were staring to become concerned that Bakugou had possibly said something that hurt his feelings or kidnapped your child, but those theories were put to rest when footsteps came into the kitchen.

“He talks as much as you did.” Those words affected you more than you’d like to admit, not expecting him to want to make any connections between you and the son you both shared.

“He’s my son,” you stated the obvious. Turning around to face him with your tea in hand, taking a small sip of the burning hot liquid as you gazed at him with cold eyes.

Katsuki didn’t know what else to say, he had no plan for what he’d do once he got here, only getting your address from Mina and refusing to ask for advice. He had never walked on eggshells with someone before, it was usually everyone else trying not to piss him off. He didn’t know if he was scared of you, or how wrong he was about you. He didn’t have a clue that you were living a normal life, and once he came across your house in such a small neighborhood without gates and security, he felt even more guilty about yelling at you in that restaurant.

“When I told you to tell me when you’re ready to meet him, I didn’t mean just show up at my house.” You said, and as calm as it sounded, he could tell that you were picking your words wisely. She obviously didn’t want Ryu to know who he was yet, and he didn’t think he wanted to either with how happy the kid was to see him as his idol.

How would he see him if he knew he was his dad?

“How did you do it? . . I mean, what do you do now?” Katsuki asked, choosing to ignore your initial statement and get the answers he was seeking.

You were getting tired of being questioned, but this is what you get for reaching out. “If you’re asking how I’m able to take care of us, it’s because I started my own business with the money I had saved up. Next question,” you answered casually as you continued sipping your tea.

“. . Why did you tell me now?”

He noticed that question seemed to break your composure, your cold and aloof expression turned sorrowful and your eyes stayed glued to your cup. Katsuki didn’t understand why he felt his stomach drop at the sight of it, but he blamed it on the guilt he already felt.

“Ryu started asking about you more. . and I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t spending enough time with him. . but the more time we spent together the more questions he’d ask about you. I had to face the facts that I can’t play the part of mom and dad, and he deserved to meet his real dad even if we never get along. He deserved to get to make his own impression of you,” you admitted.

Katsuki was once again speechless, but the spotlight was quickly torn off of him.

“He’s my dad?”

A/N: Annnnd we have a new chapter! I hope you enjoy, and thank you all for all the love on this book 🥺! I appreciate all the comments and revolves so much! Muah!

Taglist <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @damnirina @fireworkemoji102 @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @ladybeautiful18 @vintage-teddyxo @mirakeul @regalmigraine

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 4 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first three chapters please~)

"Wow. Either we're going to host a pasta eating contest this evening, or they have spread some news about an incoming pasta shortage in the country," Ciri teases as she looks at the mass of pasta boxes on the counter. "Or in the world," she corrects when she realizes he is still not done taking the pasta boxes out of the grocery bags. "Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"Then why?"

"Can't a guy buy pasta as much as he wants simply because he wanted to? Does there need to be a reason for that?"

"So, you're telling me that I cannot buy as much as candy I want, but you can buy a ridiculous amount of pasta. And you can do that because?"

"Because I'm an adult, and you're not. End of the discussion."

"But that's not fair!" Ciri huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I can't wait to be an adult so I can get whatever I want and be unstoppable."

Geralt reaches over and ruffles her hair before he asks: "What kind of pasta do you think we should make?"

"Can I ask something, too, before I answer to that?" When Geralt nods, she continues, "You've said that you met someone special, but you didn't let me know anything more than that. Is... Is this special person going to join us for dinner today?"

"Yeah, someone's going to join us for dinner, but it's not someone you don't know. Just Mrs. April."

"Oh. Okay. Nothing came out of it, I guess."

Ciri looks so disappointed that Geralt feels like telling her the truth. But no, he won't ruin the surprise and let it go to waste after keeping his mouth shut this whole time.

She picks up the penne one and shakes the box to make her point.

"With chicken, heavy cream, and—"

"And sundried tomatoes."

Geralt doesn't know why he couldn't think of that. It's both his and Ciri's favorite pasta recipe after all. For a second, he feels extremely stupid for buying every kind of pasta he could find. But then he thinks: "This won't be the last time Jaskier comes here," and finds himself imagining them trying to choose what kind of pasta to make together, and shakes his head a little. No need to feel stupid, he will have to deal with not only one, but two pasta monsters soon if he is lucky.

He smiles at the thought.

***

After setting up the table, Geralt takes a shower and starts to get ready. He nearly asks Ciri which button-up shirt he should wear, but then decides against it since he knows that she would put two and two together and ask something like:

"Since when you use your most expensive perfume at home just because our old, lovely neighbour will come over for dinner?"

Nope, he'll pass, thank you very much. He takes a look at his gray and white windowpane shirt, then at the other shirt he is holding in his hands as if making the hardest decision in his whole life. He doesn't want to look like he is trying too hard, but doesn't want to look like he's not trying at all either. It has been so long since the last time he was on a date that he—

"That's a... date," he whispers to himself because it only occurs to him now.

And suddenly he can understand why Jaskier sounded anxious about meeting Ciri.

This is technically their first date, and Geralt simply invited him over like that's something they have been doing for years. Most people don't even mention their kids on the first date— let alone introducing them.

But it's not the same thing, right? Jaskier already knows about Ciri, and the musician loves kids.

Jaskier didn't back away when Geralt talked to him about his daughter for the first time.

No, he didn't back away and didn't give him this "Oh no, he has a kid, that's such a deal-breaker”  look like most people do. What he did was listening to him with interest instead, a warm smile on his face.

Maybe that's why it felt only natural to invite him over for their first date.

Still, even though he knows that everything will go perfectly fine, maybe it wasn't fair to put such pressure on him just yet.

Well, too late for thinking stuff like that now. Geralt doesn't think he will regret this though. He is somehow sure that he won't.

Smiling, he decides that the basic black button-up shirt and beige trousers will do just fine.

A few minutes later he gets a text from Jaskier:

[I'll be there in a few. Don't forget to leave the door open~]

***

Ciri is busy lying on the couch and watching Jaskier's cover again when he finally arrives.

He closes the door behind himself, being careful so as not to make any sound even though he doesn't have to do that since Ciri's watching the video at full volume and wouldn't hear even if he just hit the door shut anyway.

When he sees that Geralt is standing only a few feet away from him in the hallway, his whole face lights up like he has just seen a million fireflies hovering above them.

For a while, they don't even move.

They don't blink or utter anything.

They just simply stare at each other like they cannot believe this is really happening.

Jaskier looks so perfect with his dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with blue small anchors pattern that Geralt swallows—as always, he seems like he doesn't even accept the existence of the first four buttons.

One second later Jaskier mirrors him and swallows, then takes small, silent steps towards him until they're barely one step away from each other.

"It's good to finally see you, Mr. Handsome Nurse," whispers the musician, never taking his eyes off Geralt even for a millisecond.

"You call me 'Mr. Handsome Nurse' so much that I'm this close to thinking that you only talk to me because you have a nurse kink or something," Geralt whispers back, and Jaskier's lips slowly curve into a lopsided, mischievous grin as he slowly tilts his head to the side—the space between them closing.

He isn't sure which one of them is responsible for that, but he nearly feels the man's warm breath against his skin—they are so close that he can see his pupils react, and his heart skips a beat.  

"I mean, I don't not have it," Jaskier lifts one shoulder in a half shrug "You're the one to blame. Oh wait, do I hear my own cover?"

Just like that, they are not standing too close to each other anymore, and it's probably for the best, considering they aren't alone and he doesn't want to give his daughter a heart attack.

"The very same. She watches your video again and again. I stopped counting after the fifth time."

"And yet she doesn't even know that she lives with the 'jabroni' she is mad at. Poor thing." The musician clicks his tongue before he grins again. "Or poor you. We shall see. Anyway, my time has come."

After hanging his paper bag on the hall stand, Jaskier silently steps into the living room and makes a beeline for the back of the couch Ciri is lying on.

"Gosh, what a handsome man," he comments as he leans over the back of the couch. "Eh," he says, scrunching his nose, "his nose doesn't look that great in the left bottom box from this angle, but well, what done is done."

Ciri practically jumps out of her skin when she turns her head to the source of the familiar voice. She screams, yeah, actually screams, and falls from the couch to the floor with a loud thump.

"Well, my fans usually prefer to hug me instead, but that's an option as well."

Ciri doesn't look like she is going to say something anytime soon. She just stares at Jaskier with owl-like wide eyes, and Geralt tries his best not to laugh as he leans against the door frame and watches them. The keyword is "tries" though because he is clearly failing.

"...why Jaskier is standing in our living room?" his daughter asks, eyes still on the musician.

"You can thank my hacker friend for that," looking pretty amused, Jaskier answers before he could and holds out a hand to help her to her feet, "he gave me access to all of my fans' addresses so I could surprise them one by one."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm quite sure that I'm dreaming." Ciri blinks twice like trying to come out of a dream, then frowns as she gets up, "Also, that's the worst idea I've ever heard, what if one of your fans turns out to be a psycho and traps you in their house for the rest of your life? Never lets you leave?"

"Well, I wouldn't have any objection to being trapped in here. Feel free to try. Let me know though if you guys are planning to keep me here forever, so I can grab a few essentials from my home."

"You mean your lute?"

Jaskier turns his head to Geralt before sitting on the couch and saying: "She is really a smart one, Geralt. Just like her dad."

"Even smarter than me, believe me."

If someone would tell Geralt that he would have to say "Ciri, please stop poking our guest,"  to his daughter ever, he wouldn't believe them, but he finds himself warning Ciri with the exact words since she sits next to Jaskier and disbelievingly pokes the man's cheek with her index finger with a determined and curious expression as if she is examining E.T. The musician doesn't seem like he minds it, though.

"You're real. And you're really here," she eventually decides.

"Yeah, as real as that delicious smell coming from the kitchen."

"This doesn't make any sense. I just can't understand why— I mean how is that even— Can someone please explain to me what's really happening here?"

"Why don't we do that while having dinner before it gets cold?" Geralt offers, and Jaskier must be really hungry because he immediately stands up from the couch and pulls Ciri with him before she can resist.

***

"So, basically, my dad was your nurse for nearly a month and I learn about this just now?" Ciri has this 'How could you do this to me?' expression on her face, so Geralt turns to link eyes with Jaskier and mouths the word, 'help' in his direction. Yes, he can deal with even villain-looking, probably dangerous criminal patients without any hesitation, but he can't deal with the way his daughter stares at him right now.

"It's not your dad's fault, Ciri. I told him not to tell you anything about it so we could surprise you."

Geralt loves how he says "we could" like they are a team, to be honest.

Jaskier keeps talking about how Geralt would let her know if it wasn't for him, and Ciri doesn't look that mad anymore until Jaskier adds: "It's not my fault that he is a handsome jabroni who didn't even send me a text and kept me waiting for too long though," while casually stabbing his salad with his fork a few times. "If he didn't call me today, my next cover was going to be 'Call Me Maybe' probably."

Geralt almost chokes on his water. He was so wrong about this whole "team" thing apparently. He knows that some people say "A first date is chaotic by nature", but he wouldn't think it would be this chaotic.

"This salad is pretty good, Geralt." Jaskier completely ignores his reaction, "And the pasta makes me feel like there's a festival in my mouth. It's fantastic. You weren't kidding when you said you could show me how a proper dinner looked like, I see. Kudos to you, gorgeous."

Geralt feels the heat rushing to his whole face, wishing the ground would swallow him up right now and here.

Seriously, someone please bury him.

If someone was told to look mad, surprised, and happy at the same time at an audition they would exactly look like Ciri—or Harrison Ford since he's excellent at that as well—because that's exactly how she looks right now.

"...this song was for my dad? He's the one who kept you waiting? He's the him in 'It Must be Him' ?"

"Uh-huh. That's correct, dear," Jaskier confirms before shoving some pasta into his mouth. "I think he's worth waiting for, though. Still, it was a bit mean of him to do so, don't you think so?"

"Any sane person would agree with you, Jask. Of course, it's mean and inconsiderate."

Jask? Did Ciri just call him Jask?

They are already teaming up against him, oh God.

"Right?! Thank you!" The musician exclaims, flinging his hands in a wild gesture. "I mean, he could just send me a simple text at least, it would take him only a few seconds."

"Don't even mention it. So... Since he finally called you and you're here now, does this mean that you're this special person he—"

"Do you want some more pasta, Jaskier?" Hoping to change the subject, Geralt cuts in, but it's in vain since Jaskier just replies with a quick "Sure, please," and apologizes on behalf of Geralt because he interrupted her, signaling her to continue. The nurse can't help but think that he looks like a fox digging beneath the snow for voles with these curious, hopeful, and focused blue eyes.

"It's okay," thank God his daughter doesn't continue with her question because Geralt really doesn't need to feel more ashamed, "I forgot what I was going to ask anyway."

Ciri gives Geralt her "This isn't over yet," look and asks the man something about one of his original songs instead.

Jaskier looks a bit disappointed at not being able to hear the rest of the question at first, but he answers Ciri's question wholeheartedly all the same.

***

They take their time eating as they have no reason to hurry, talking about whatever Ciri and Jaskier bring up. Geralt is proud of himself that he didn't actually choke in dinner, because with the amount of flirting Jaskier is doing in front of Ciri, he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Ciri's eyes sparkle whenever Jaskier says something flattering about Geralt and flirts with him, and she looks extremely happy—like she is living in a dream.

As much as Geralt says: "Sit down, you're our guest," Jaskier doesn't listen to him and insists that he helps clear the table after they are done with dinner, because: "We can be done with it faster if I help, I'm a guest with working hands, aren't I?"

So he helps with clearing the table, and also with drying the dishes Geralt washes by hand because they aren't supposed to be washed in the dishwasher. He answers Ciri's questions meanwhile and asks her some questions about her as well— her favorite color, her favorite animals, favorite subject in school. Geralt can feel that he is not asking just for the sake of asking, he asks because he wants to know. Because he actually wonders.

Even though Jaskier is here for the first time, it feels domestic in a way that isn't unwelcome.

When they go back to the living room, Jaskier disappears for a while and returns with that paper bag he had hung on the hall stand.

"Thought I'd surprised my biggest fan not only with my presence but also with a little gift," he explains, handing the big bag to Ciri with a smile. "I hope you like it."

"You shouldn't have," Ciri returns the smile, astonished.

"I wanted to," Jaskier says as he sits on the armrest of the couch, watching her carefully opening the gift. "I think you should just tear off the wrap, dear," he suggests after a while, clearly excited to see her reaction.

"Not gonna lie, I also thought about getting flowers for your dad, but then I thought: 'Nah! Why would I do that after I suffered because of him for fifteen days?' You know?"

Geralt lets out a long sigh, running a hand over his face. Jaskier will never let him live this down, will he? Geralt can picture him going "Remember that time you didn't call me for fifteen days five years ago? When you kept me waiting after I left the hospital? I still think of that time sometimes and it makes my heart bleed," five years later, simply because he refused something Jaskier wanted him to do.

"You did the right thing. He should be grateful that you're even here right now," Ciri agrees. Well, fuck Geralt I guess. It's not like he is Ciri's father who loves her more than anything and who needs her to defend him currently or anything after all.

She immediately goes for a hug as soon as she finally opens the gift, cheerfully declaring how much she likes it and thanking the musician.

"Geralt has mentioned that you love drawing," Jaskier hugs her back gently, happy with her reaction. He had bought her a huge, professional art set. It looks so beautiful that even the nurse feels like taking a shot at drawing again despite knowing too well that he sucks at it.

"I don't get gifts or flowers, okay, no problem, but can't I get a damn hug, too, at least?" Geralt feels like asking, because they look adorable and he wants in, dammit.

As if he is reading his mind, Jaskier motions for him to join them and says: "C'mere you emotional cactus—don't stand up over there like a sad spare tyre."

"I'm not a sad spare tyre," he grumbles a little but joins them in seconds, one arm hugging his daughter, the other hugging the musician.

"Yeah, now you're not," is what Jaskier says as he hugs them tighter.

***

About two hours later Geralt offers to watch a movie together and Ciri is busy setting up a movie—ninety percent "I, Robot" because she is crazy about that movie—before Jaskier can refuse.

Ciri talks about how mad she was when she first watched the movie with Geralt because she thought the movie would be about the short stories in the book, but in reality, the movie had very little to do with the book.

"It's okay though," she adds, "because this movie rocks anyway."

That's how they find themselves watching "I, Robot" with Ciri sitting between them with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap.

"Geralt, can I ask you something?" Jaskier asks before he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You look like a squirrel stuffing his little cheeks with walnuts," Geralt can't help but tease, "sure, ask if you don't get choked before you can."

"That's how you enjoy popcorn, you peasant."

"I don't know much about that since I don't like popcorn."

Jaskier gasps at that as if he said: "I bathe in the blood of the innocent every single day to maintain my health."

"How come someone doesn't like popcorn is behind my comprehension," he huffs like he is personally offended by that. Ciri warns them to keep it quiet with a loud "shhh," since she is fully focused on the movie.

"God, it's the same reaction every time I tell someone this," Geralt complains, "it doesn't even taste good, what there's to like?"

"You can always add some salt so it tastes good."

"It makes me feel thirsty then."

"Everyone loves popcorn! Everyone!"

"Well, not my dad," Ciri rolls her eyes as she pauses the movie. "If you weren't here he wouldn't even let me have popcorn even if I begged. 'It's not healthy, Ciri. And it doesn't even taste good. Let me peel some apples for you, instead.' " she imitates him, causing Jaskier to look at him in horror.

"Can you please stop looking at me like I'm a circle freak? I just don't like popcorn. Even that one pizza with peanut butter and gumball Crazy Eyes orders in 'Mr. Deeds' sounds more delicious than popcorn."

"...ew, just ew. I'm concerned for you if you actually think that. How about caramel popcorn?"

"I feel the same about caramel popcorn."

"You're impossible, Geralt. Totally impossible. Well, what can I say? Your loss, our gain. Right, dear?"

"Right!"

"Give me a high-five then!" The musician says with a grin, raising his hand. They share a high-five proudly as if they have just saved the world together from earth-threatening asteroids.

"What were you going to ask?" Geralt asks curiously, but Jaskier just blankly looks at him instead of answering.

"Let me guess. You forgot? See, you wouldn't forget it if it wasn't for all that popcorn questions of yours."

"Don't talk like that in front of our popcorn, Geralt. Ciri, can you please keep playing the movie?"

"Gladly."

***

"I think she fell asleep," Jaskier informs him with a whisper when there are about twenty minutes left of the movie.

Geralt pauses the movie and smiles when he sees that Ciri had fallen asleep on the musician's shoulder—the sight warming up his heart especially when Jaskier looks at her fondly.

"Figured out so. Usually, this is where she announces her dislike for V.I.K.I and rants about Sonny's wink."

"Can't blame her, V.I.K.I is so diabolic."

"We're all on the same page about that," he agrees. "Hey, it doesn't seem like you made her go 'meh' like you were afraid that you would, huh? I told you that she already adores you. I think she likes you even more now."

"Well, I was afraid that I couldn't prove that I was worthy of her gorgeous dad. And I hope her dad shares his daughter's feelings," Jaskier pokes Geralt's arm with his elbow teasingly.

"Oh, please. If anything, it was me who should have been afraid. You two teamed up against me, 'Jask'."

"It's because she's a defender of truth, not because she was playing favorites or anything."

"I better tuck in this defender of truth," Geralt says as he stands up, and if his eyes aren't fooling him, Jaskier watches him affectionately when he picks up Ciri so he can carry her to her room.

He gently carries her to her room and tucks her in. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin," the nurse plants a soft, small kiss on his daughter's head before heading back to the living room, feeling happy that he has seen her smile and laugh a lot today. And truth be told, he feels a bit excited that he can be alone with Jaskier for a while.

"Wanna finish the movie?" he asks after settling on the couch and plays the movie again when Jaskier nods.

"I've forgotten how cool this scene was." Jaskier says when Spooner screams "Save her! Save the girl!" and Sonny listens to him, trusts Spooner to apply the nanites. "Gosh, I've got goosebumps. Seriously. It's not even just a figure of speech."

When Jaskier holds his arm up to show it, Geralt gently strokes the other man's arm by instinct, feeling goosebumps along his skin. As soon as he does that, he feels that he gets goosebumps himself, but it has nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with the beautiful man sitting next to him right now—even though, yeah, Jaskier is right, this scene is so cool that no one can claim otherwise.

Without Ciri between them, they sit close to each other now, their thighs touching.

Geralt looks at Jaskier's surprised face; his incredibly blue eyes look so luminous in the reflected light from the TV. So luminous, and intriguing.

A moment later, Jaskier makes himself more comfortable on the couch. He then points at Geralt's right arm: "Is it okay if I— you know."

It amazes Geralt how he shamelessly flirts with him in front of his daughter but gets shy over this. He holds back a chuckle, gladly wrapping his arm around Jaskier.

He wonders if Jaskier can hear his heartbeats quickening when the musician leans his head on his chest.

"You make a comfy pillow."

"Thank you, I guess?"

"No, Geralt. Thank you."

And with that, they focus on what's left of the movie. Or more like Jaskier focuses on it while Geralt is busy focusing on him.

He knows that Jaskier is really focused on the movie because he hears him sniffing lightly when Sonny asks "Does this make us friends?" to Spooner five minutes later.

"Are you seriously crying over a robot right now?" he chuckles.

"He has a name, you heartless man," Jaskier argues, getting rid of Geralt's arm and wiping his tears away. "You don't understand," he holds a hand up in defense, "he made a friend. Sonny made a friend, Geralt. For the first time in his life."

"...so?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? It's an emotional scene." The musician lets out a frustrated sigh, "You're unbelievable."

"I'll let you know that even Ciri doesn't cry at this part."

Instead of making a comment, Jaskier turns to look at the TV again, so Geralt does the same, but he soon finds himself looking at him again because of his lack of comment when the movie is about to end. And that's how he realizes that the other man is busy trying to blink away the tears that have started to well up in his eyes once more.

As he watches Jaskier wrapping his arms around himself as if he's trying to hold himself together, he feels like this isn't really about Sonny anymore—maybe it never was.

"Jaskier..?" he calls his name, but the musician doesn't reply, looking lost in his thoughts. So Geralt puts his hand on Jaskier's shoulder and calls his name again, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks when Jaskier finally snaps out of his own head and confusedly looks at him.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just— I don't know what came over me."

Not buying Jaskier's answer, Geralt presses his lips together and just stares at him in a way that screams: "We both know that this is not true and I'm gonna keep staring at you until you tell me what's the matter."

"Seriously, it's nothing important," Jaskier gives a dismissive wave of his hand and tries to smile.

It isn't his usual, warmer than the sun on a summer day type of smile. It isn't his spectacular smile that makes Geralt think of everything beautiful in the world; makes him think of the most beautiful, colorful flowers, makes him think of a sweet wind that gently caresses your face just when you need it, making you feel at peace.

No, it isn't Jaskier's kind of smile that makes Geralt feel like watching the waves while listening to calming melodies, and he hates this heartbreakingly apologetic and tight smile the other man gives him.

"Doesn't seem like it," Geralt says softly as he squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, "Why don't you tell me what it is? I've been told I'm a good listener."

"It just—" Jaskier takes a deep breath and keeps his head low as he avoids looking at Geralt, his shoulders slumping as if in defeat. Geralt's mind is already racing with possible things that the musician could say.

"It reminded me of someone I used to know. Of my first real friend," he explains. "She had asked me the exact same question when I saved her ass from his so-called foster parents. 'Does this makes us friends?' I can still remember the look in her eyes when she asked that. I was the first friend she ever had, as well. We didn't get along when we first met, truth be told. But after that, we were simply inseparable.  

"We weren't liked by most adults—and also by the other kids actually, because well," Jaskier chuckles dryly, "we were both pretty handful kids. It didn't really matter though, we could handle everything together. At least we felt like we could, and did so for nearly fourteen years, and then turned out we—"

Jaskier swallows the tight lump that has formed in his throat. He can hardly utter the next words, and when he does, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Turned out we can't handle too well with muggers with knives."

Feeling his own eyes brimming with tears, Geralt can't even react at first as he watches Jaskier crying openly.

After a while, "I'm so sorry," is all he can say before he wraps his arms around Jaskier's slightly shaking frame and pulls him into a hug. The other man welcomes the hug and snuggles up to him as Geralt repeats the same words again: "I'm so sorry, Jaskier."

"She was my best friend, Geralt," he whispers brokenly, burying his face in the nurse's chest. "She was like the sister I never had."

Geralt doesn't know how long they stay like this; with Jaskier quietly crying and holds on to him like he is his lifeline and Geralt resting his chin on top of the musician's head, caressing his soft hair with his left hand, and rubbing small, soothing circles on wherever his right hand can reach—on his arm, his back. It can be half an hour, it can be only fifteen minutes. He doesn't really care.

He just wants him to give Geralt his usual, heart-warming Jaskier Smile; wants Jaskier to feel better. Better and not lonely anymore.

He highly doubts that Jaskier has let anyone in after he lost his friend—let them really know him and get close to him. Anyone besides Geralt. And he can't help but wonder if that was why no one visited Jaskier at the hospital; if that was why he most likely didn't even let anyone know about the accident.

" 'm sorry for ruining our first date," Jaskier eventually mumbles. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

Geralt gently grabs Jaskier's chin and lifts it up a little so their eyes meet. Jaskier has a guilty, ashamed expression on his face, his eyes are red from crying.

"You're not ruining anything, you don't need to apologize," Geralt looks into his eyes and assures him, wiping the tears away from the musician's face.

Frowning, the other man mirrors his action and reaches for Geralt's face to wipe the tears away with his thump. "Making you cry is pretty much considered as ruining our date in my book. And to think that I just broke down because of something a bloody robot said—"

" 'A bloody robot'? He has a name, you know. It's Sonny. You heartless, beautiful musician. Shame on you."

Surprised by Geralt's comeback, Jaskier laughs and hides his face in the nurse's chest once again—but in embarrassment this time— as he complains: "Oh lord. You're the worst."

"Well, you probably shouldn't have dedicated that impressive, amazing video to me if I'm that bad. Seemed like you really spent so much time on it."

That makes him look at Geralt and give him a smile. And Geralt finds himself smiling back, too, thinking: "Here it is. His Jaskier Smile."

"I think you meant to say 'bearable musician', before" Jaskier teases. "That's the second time you've mentioned it, you really like it then I guess."

"That was one of the nicest things someone ever has done for me. And the same thing goes for your drawing, speaking of which," Geralt admits as Jaskier pulls himself away from him a bit. He finds himself missing his warmth already. "I didn't think you would do something like singing a song for me though, so imagine my surprise when I got home and saw that video."

"Wait, for real? Don't tell me that I'm the first patient who tried to serenade you. I mean— you're just so..." he vaguely gestures to him, "So you."

"You're not the first patient who tried to flirt with me, but you're the first one who took it that far. And the first one who went full 'here's my number, so call me, definitely,' on me."

"No regrets. Well, actually, I take that back. One regret. I regret that I didn't ask for your number that day. Uh, Geralt?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel terrible about before. I mean it, I shouldn't have brought it up and I'm really—

"If you say 'sorry' again I'll lock you in a room filled with popcorn without any salt and let you rot there."

"That's your idea of torture?"

"That's my idea of hell."

"I must say that your idea of hell is pretty sweet then, if only it—" Jaskier's eyes suddenly widen when Geralt lets out a tired yawn, "Oh shit, what time is it?" he asks, frantically searching for his phone on the couch, then looking at the coffee table to see if it's on there.

"I think you left your phone in the kitchen," the nurse replies, not understanding why he is panicking. “Maybe he was supposed to call someone, but he forgot about it,” his mind suggests, but then Jaskier asks the same question again with a bonus, "When are you gonna go to work tomorrow?" question.

"You're gonna wake up early tomorrow, right? I'm sorry that I kept you this— I mean, please accept my apologies that I kept you up this late. And please don't let me rot in the Popcorn Room just because I said 'sorry'. It's late, isn't it? It's probably already past 1 a.m, and yet here I am. Good God," the musician shakes his head and stands up, clearly frustrated with himself, "how inconsiderate of me."

Finding his reaction to the situation adorable, Geralt chuckles and reaches out to the other man to pull him back on the couch, but Jaskier resists.

"It's okay, calm down. I'm on the night shift tomorrow," Geralt lets him know. "Also, I thought you had no problem with the Popcorn Room since you love popcorn."

"Oh. Glad to hear that you don't need to wake up that early tomorrow then," Jaskier says, looking like he feels suddenly stupid. "Still though, I'm sure you had a tiring day at work today, so I better get going already. And for the record; I don't have any problem with being locked in a room filled with popcorn, I have a problem with not having you there with me. Anyway, thank you for having me today, Geralt. I'm so happy that I could finally see you again and finally met Ciri. She is such a sweetheart."

Geralt pats the empty space next to him, but Jaskier taps his wrist twice like he's wearing a watch, trying to emphasize the time.

"Wow, you're trying to get rid of me already, I see," the nurse jokes, hoping it would make Jaskier convince to sit down again. "I thought it would take three days at least. Is it because I'm not wearing my work clothes? Am I not attractive enough without them?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes at that before saying: "You could wear a rubbish bag and still look attractive, Geralt."

"Then can you please sit down?" Geralt insists, "For a minute at least?"

The other man finally gives in and sits down next to him with a sigh.

"You're aware of the fact that Ciri will tear me to pieces tomorrow because I didn't wake her up when she fell asleep, right?" Geralt wonders, facing Jaskier and propping his elbow on the back of the couch so he can prop his hand against his cheek as he talks. "Besides, yeah, it's late. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

Jaskier opens his mouth—probably to kindly refuse, but Geralt doesn't let him speak and continues: "If you're thinking about replying with 'I don't want to bother you,' or something like that, you better get ready to say hi to the hell because it's nonsense."

"Hmm." The other man copies his sitting position on the couch, "By 'hell' you mean the Popcorn Room again, of course."

"Damn right."

"Well, I think I'd like to stay away from hell tonight," Jaskier shrugs one shoulder lazily. "Only if you promise to go to sleep soon, though. Otherwise, lead the way to the hell, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I think you missed the part where I said I don't have to wake up that early tomorrow," Geralt snorts. "How about we go to the kitchen now so I can make us hot chocolate?"

"No, I heard it loud and clear," Jaskier stares at him with a neutral expression, "but you still need to rest, love."

Geralt hopes Jaskier cannot see he is blushing because of the way the musician chose to finish his sentence.

He is about the resist when Jaskier holds up a finger in warning, "I mean it. I'm outta here if you decide to argue with me on that."

The nurse can't help but sigh in disbelief and disappointment. It makes his heart flutter in his chest though, because he is sure that Jaskier would love to stay up for another hour at least and just keep talking, too, and yet, he puts Geralt first.

As much as he wants to argue, he knows Jaskier is right—he needs to rest, and if he stays up for another hour he won't feel well-rested tomorrow.

"No wonder why Ciri gets annoyed whenever I tell her to go to sleep," he thinks aloud, causing the other man to grin at him.

"So, what do you say? Have you carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions? Shake my hand to check the box," Jaskier holds out his hand.

Geralt picks up Jaskier's hand with grace and lightly kisses the back of it without any hesitation. Not expecting this, the musician gapes at him—looking adorable as ever.

"Yes, Jaskier," the nurse smiles, "I have carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions."

They finally met! Yasss! A coin for your thoughts? I seriously wonder what you think about this chapter, dear Witchlings.💛 What part did you like the most? Did any part make you laugh or smile? I'd be SO grateful if you let me know 😅

I had so much fun while writing this chapter, by the way—well except for that one particular part. And the thing is even I had no idea. Jaskier just got emotional suddenly and here I was, wondering what the hell was happening. And it didn't feel natural to cut that part out, because it just happened.

And another thing is, I didn't think this chapter would be this long. I was just thinking "They will meet and have dinner together, then Jaskier will leave. That's it."

And I'm not gonna lie, I kinda wrote most of these two chapters in the same week instead of humaning and at one point I seriously started to wonder if Jaskier was planning to leave Geralt's home at all. I was planning to end the chapter when he leaves, so it was like:

-Okay, you met them, you had dinner, time to leave. Ciri, out of nowhere: Time to watch "I, Robot!" Me: No no no, that wasn't my plan, Jaskier is supposed to le— Jaskier, already eating popcorn and watching the movie: I'm going nowhere yet. *** Jaskier: *finally says he better get going* Geralt: Hell no! Me: 

 Joking aside, it's not up to me what he does and I love my precious, silly Dandelion. He can live there forever for all I care, I'm done with trying 😂

(Oh, if any of you have any ideas, feel free to let me know because I'm not sure what's gonna happen in the next chapter for now ><)

Thank you so much for reading 💛  

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 3: Roses Are Falling

Read on Ao3

-

Steve’s hand was sweaty in Billy’s as he pulled him through the crowds in the fairground, ducking and weaving between the people milling about. 

Billy let himself be dragged, staring at Steve’s ass in his little denim shorts. 

It had been one week since their date at the diner. 

A week of Billy showing up to the rodeo, watching Steve compete in his event, and making out with him behind the arena. 

It was fun, sneaking around together in the blazing summer heat. 

He had even brought Max a few times, letting her wander around with some chick her own age she met. Apparently, her dad works at the rodeo or someshit. Billy wasn’t listening when she explained. Steve had been across the arena, taking off his flannel shirt and trading it for another one of his slutty little crop tops. 

It was a gorgeous show. 

But Max was somewhere eating her body weight in funnel cake while Steve took him into a tent labeled Employees Only. 

There was an eclectic group of people sitting at the long tables in the tent, all greeting Steve as he pulled Billy through to a group of younger people sitting together at the end of one of the tables. 

Steve pushed Billy onto one of the benches, perching right on his lap like that was totally fine. Like it was easy for Billy to just. Keep his dick in check. 

The girl sitting across from them sighed heavily, raising one eyebrow at Steve. 

“Shut up, Robin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she was still giving Steve a very pointed look. 

“You don’t have to.” Steve slumped back against Billy’s chest, no doubt petulant. 

She shook her head, finally addressing Billy. 

“I’m Robin.”

“She does barrel racing,” Steve leaned back, muttering the information into Billy’s ear. His breath was hot against Billy’s skin, and Billy had to fight down a shiver that crept up his spine despite the blazing heat.

Another girl was sitting next to Robin, a pretty brunette with doe eyes to rival Steve’s. She seemed vaguely familiar. 

And then it clicked. 

“Aren’t you in the pageants?”

She laughed softly.

“My name’s Heather. And yes, I’m reigning Miss Rodeo USA, so I’ve been with these guys and will be until the next girl is crowned. It’s been a good time.” She glanced over at Robin, bumping their shoulders together. Billy raised one eyebrow at Robin, catching her eye and making her flush slightly. He shot her a quick wink. 

Steve shifted in his lap, putting one arm over Billy’s shoulders, winding his fingers through his little ponytail. 

“So, Billy,” Robin tried to move the conversation along, rolling her shoulders back. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All bad, I hope.” 

“Nah, just, I feel like I know you quite well know. Like, really well. Like better than I ever wanted to know a guy-”

“Okay, yeah, Robin. We get it. Thanks.” Steve squirmed slightly in Billy’s lap, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears a bright red color. It was cute. Billy didn’t realize when Steve’s cheeks went all pink, that, other, places of him flushed too. He wondered how far down that rosy tint on Steve’s cheeks went. If it was all over his chest, if it leads down to his-

Nope. Not going there right now. Not when Steve is sitting on Billy’s lap, and they’re in fucking public. Absolutely not. No thanks. Billy’s fine. 

Robin squinted at him, and he tried to keep his face as blank as possible. 

Steve sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head. 

“I’m getting a pop. Anyone else?”

Robin waved him off, and he was gone with a roll of his eyes. 

“So, you’re the poor San Diego bastard. My condolences.”

Billy squinted at her. 

“Not sure what you mean.” 

She took a deep breath, looking at Heather briefly. 

“Look. You know this little fling is just that. A little fling. Steve, he kinda, does this. Finds someone in every place we’re stationed, and has a month-long something with them. He loves attention but he’s too scared of commitment to do anything else. And honestly, I’m saying this all for your sake, because I’ve seen people get attached. He’s gonna eat you alive, and then he’s gonna leave, and it’s easier for you if you know that going in.”

Robin’s words settled like a fucking pit in Billy’s stomach. 

Because, yeah. He, like, kinda figured that. He knew their time was limited. Knew that Steve would slip through his fingers. And really, that was fine. Billy thinks he’d be the exact same way if the roles were reversed, that he would be constantly moving from one person to the next, never getting lonely, but never getting deep, either. 

He understands the whole commitment-phobe thing. Kinda takes one to know one. 

So he gets it. 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit to have it put. So plainly.

“I’m sorry. That was probably too harsh but, you seem like a nice guy, and Steve doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to hurt people, he just, definitely uses the whole traveling rodeo thing to his advantage.”

“Nah, I get it. Really, I kinda figured it out. He said he likes to make friends wherever they are. So, it’s fine. And I think sometimes harsh can be alright.” He doesn’t wanna make Steve’s friend feel bad. 

And really, he did know what they were doing and what this was about. It just sucks having it confirmed by someone else. And put. So plainly. 

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I just kinda wanted to prepare you. If this is gonna be something that hurts, maybe it’s best to get out now.” Robin had very pretty blue eyes and freckles all over her face. She seemed warm, and the way she was staring at him was with so much concern. 

“Thank you. I get it, honest. I’d probably act just the same if I were him.”

“If you were who?” Steve had returned, slapping a can of root beer on the table in front of them, taking a seat pressed as close as possible to Billy, lifting up his arm to slide underneath it. 

“Quit being nosy.” Robin reached out to muss up Steve’s hair, poking him in the forehead. “What are you two doing today?”

Steve shrugged, taking the bait and moving on. 

“Wander the grounds. Maybe hang out at my place.” Billy’s interest piqued. He had no idea Steve had a place. “Might sneak out and go for a drive or something. You got any preference?” Steve leaned over the table, resting his elbows on top, placing his face in his hands, turning to look at Billy. 

“We could kick around here. I gotta drive Max home later so we should probably stick around.” Steve grinned at him. 

“Well, c’mon then. You’ve got plenty to see around here.”

Billy felt like Steve has already dragged through the entire grounds, he doesn’t know how there’s more to see. 

But it turned out there’s a lot more. Because Steve’s place, as it turns out, is one in a huge crowd of trailers. 

It was kinda out of Billy’s wildest imagination. Like what he’d picture an old-school traveling circus to be like. 

People were milling around everywhere, Steve saying hi to almost everyone they passed. Animals were being led to and from the large arena and the makeshift paddocks that were set up in the open grass. 

It was like nowhere Billy’s ever been before. 

Steve led him through the maze of trailers to a smaller version of an old school Airstream near the back of the lot, still hitched up to the back of a much larger, and very nice-looking, RV. 

Stevie Harrington was painted in curling dark green letters on the rounded metal door, a little cow munching on some grass painted below it.

“That your art?”

Steve snorted.

“ God, no. Robin did it for me a few years ago. That’s why it looks good.”

The hinges on the door squealed when he pulled it open and led Billy inside. 

It was hot in the airstream, and Steve turned on the solar power to get a small fan moving air through the place, propping open the door and the tiny window above the table.

“Home sweet traveling home.”

“Damn. This ain’t too bad of a setup.”

It really wasn’t. Sure, it was small, but it was perfect for one person. A tiny kitchenette faced the minuscule bathroom. The far sides of the trailer were taken up by a dining area, a table with booth-like seating, and a queen-sized bed taking up the opposite side, a small closet smushed between the bed and the kitchen.  

It was immaculately clean, not totally what Billy had expected from Steve. The bed was made, an old-looking, worn-out stuffed horse placed neatly in front of the pillows. 

There were pictures pinned up on little string light clothespins on the wall the bed was shoved against, and Steve even had a few posters over the booth seats. 

“It’s kinda nice. I saved up for a while to buy it. It’s kind of a lot being trapped in an RV with your parents, let me tell you. I’m still hooked up to theirs, and when we move I ride with them, usually, but at least I’ve got some space to myself.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Plus, I kinda figured, this is about as close as I’ll ever come to living on my own.”

“I really do like it. You’ve made it real nice in here.”

Steve looked back up to him, smiling proudly. 

“We don’t have to like, hang out in here. I just thought I’d welcome you in. To like, say, you know, if you’re ever around but don’t wanna hang out doing the same rodeo shit all the time, we could, like, spend some time in here.” Steve’s cheeks were going red. 

And Billy was fairly certain he knew where this was going. 

So he took the metaphorical bull by the horns, and wrapped his fingers in Steve’s literal belt loops, and pulled him close enough that their lips could touch. 

And apparently, Billy was right. Because Steve kissed him back immediately, and fervently, sliding his arms over Billy’s shoulders and pressing into him enough to move Billy back a few steps until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to sit on it. 

Steve wasted no time climbing on his lap, kneeling straddling Billy, pressed together as close as possible. 

Steve broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily and Billy attached himself to Steve’s neck, leaving wet kisses in his path down the long column of his throat. 

“God, fuck. Can we-”

“ Yeah. Yeah, Baby,” Billy was breathless as he replied, getting both hands under Steve’s ass and flipping their position in one fluid motion, getting Steve on his back, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist. 

“Get the door.”

Billy pressed a long sucking kiss to Steve’s neck before pulling away, slamming the door closed as Steve drew the blinds on the window above the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit in the ceiling.

“It’s gonna get super fucking hot in here if we fuck.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Steve laughed at Billy, rolling back to lay properly on the bed, taking his stuffed horse and tossing it on the table behind Billy. 

“I don’t want her to have to see this.”

“Fine by me.” Billy was back on him in a second, pushing his hands up Steve’s shirt, yanking it off him as fast as possible. 

Steve was so fucking gorgeous. 

He had a light tan all over his body, with definite paler parts where his shirts usually sit. 

And he was fit. His muscles weren’t as bulky as Billy’s, but he was obviously strong. 

Billy leaned over him, tasting the salt on his skin as Steve began fumbling with the buttons of Billy’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so roughly one of the shoulder seams groaned, threatening to rip. 

Billy took that as his cue to pull away from Steve again, shedding his shirt and kicking off his shoes, helping Steve out of his little short shorts. 

He was wearing this excellent pair of boots, deep red with white embroidered stitching covering the boot. 

Steve leaned forward, moving to pull off the boots.

“Wait, no. Leave ‘em on.”

Steve looked at him.

“You call me a hick all the fuckin’ time, and now you’re here saying you wanna fuck me in my boots.”

“It’s hot. You’re like the chick from Footloose .”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Hot is hot, Steve.” 

Steve huffed a laugh, putting his leg back down, letting Billy settle between both of them. 

“So, are we gonna talk about the girl in an eighties movie, or are you going to fuck me through this mattress?”

“Alright, bossy. You got lube?”

Steve huffed, poking Billy’s chest until he moved off him. 

Steve sat up, crawling to the end of the bed, digging through the laundry in the hamper for the bottle of lube. 

Billy stared at him. 

Mostly, he was just staring at his asshole. It was so perfect and pink, and looked buttery and soft. 

And Jesus, he really just wanted to lick it, to get his face buried between Steve’s cheeks and go to town on the pretty pink furl of muscle. 

And, well, what’s stopping him? 

Absolutely nothing.

He got up, following Steve’s path until he was behind him, taking each cheek in one hand. 

Steve froze where he was digging through the laundry, Billy’s breath puffing between his cheeks. 

“What are you-” 

And then Billy licked up his crack, his tongue dragging all the way up from his balls, flicking once against his hole. 

“ Billy .” Steve spread his legs, pushing his hips back into Billy’s face, wordlessly asking for more. 

So Billy gave it to him. 

He opened his mouth, licking all around his rim, pressing his tongue just slightly inside, sucking on the soft pink flesh, making Steve’s breath hitch and whines pour out of his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Billy responded by pulling back, and spitting on Steve’s hole. 

Steve was taken by surprise, if his soft gasp was anything to go by. He dropped his head against the bed, biting onto the blanket. 

Billy just kept going, using his lips and tongue and teeth, opening him up and getting him wet. 

“Fuck, Billy, please just fuck me. I want you so bad .” Steve’s voice was pitchy and breathy, muffled in the blanket. 

He was grinding his hips forward and back, pressing himself against Billy’s tongue. 

Like he wanted nothing more than he wanted Billy’s tongue in his ass right then. 

And Billy certainly wasn’t complaining, not at how fucking nice and soft his asshole was against his tongue, how he tasted kinda clean and kinda musky at the same time. It was heady and Billy would happily spend the rest of his stupid life with his face buried between Steve’s cheeks. 

Something smacked against the top of Billy’s head, and he pulled away briefly to find a bottle of lube on the bed, the one that Steve had no doubt tossed over his shoulder and accidentally accosted Billy with. 

“That fuckin’ hit me in the head, you piece a’ shit.”

“I don’t care,” Steve whined, pushing his hips back even further, spreading himself out more and more for Billy to hungrily take in. “Just finger me and fuck me !”

“Bossy.”

Steve huffed, shifting his head around until he could look back at Billy, his brows pinched in a little scowl, giving Billy a dirty look that was equal parts adorable pout and sexy scowl. He looked like the grumpiest little slut. 

And Billy indulged him, squeezing out a big glob of lube, meticulously coating his first two fingers with it. 

“I know what I like, and I get what I like.”

“Jesus, I thought all them girls were the rodeo queens. Not you .”

“I’m the queen of getting my fucking way. Now for the love of God, put your fingers in me.”

And Billy couldn’t do anything but indulge him. 

He began with just one finger, sliding it slowly and deliberately down to the last knuckle. 

Steve sighed as Billy’s finger entered him, relaxing his upper body into the bed, somehow canting his hips up even more, his back arched as much as Billy’s ever fuckin’ seen. 

So Billy took a chance, pumping his finger in and out a few times, pulling it nearly all the way out, only to replace it with both fingers. He moved slowly, simply fucking Steve with his fingers for a moment, watching Steve as he crooked his fingers downward. 

And Steve moaned, and it was like he became a puddle. All his muscles relaxing and unwinding as Billy curled his fingers, pressing deeply against his prostate, rubbing tiny circles into the small bundle of nerves. 

“God, Bill. That feels so fucking good,” Steve said through a throaty moan. Billy was slowly moving his fingers in and out of Steve, pressing down into that wonderful spot each time he was buried all the way to the knuckle. “Add another. Please, I want you in me.”

Billy had to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick, flushed red and oh so painful where it was hard against his stomach. 

But he did as Steve told him to do, drawing out his two fingers to press in a third. 

There was something of a shift in the sticky airstream. As those three thick fingers sank into Steve, it was as though both boys agreed to move faster. Steve began pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, matching the steady pace Billy had set with his hand. 

Billy was tugging his fingers in and out, pushing into Steve’s prostate with each movement, the lube creating a squelching noise as they picked up the pace. 

And finally, Steve had enough. 

He moved his hips forward, sitting back on his heels to look at Billy over his shoulder. 

His face was flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown wide, making his already dark eyes seem nearly black. He tossed Billy a condom, and Billy caught it against his heaving chest. 

Steve’s breath caught as Billy ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, looking like some kinda fuckin’ animal, rolling it onto himself with a practiced hand.

“Billy, I fucking want you-”

Billy cut him off by pressing himself against Steve’s back, kissing him harshly as he felt him up, his hands roving, touching every bit of Steve he could possibly manage. 

Steve had his own mission, reaching awkwardly behind him to take Billy’s stiff cock in hand, fumbling slightly as he lined up the flushed head of his dick with his slicked-up hole, teasing himself before urging Billy to push on in. 

Their lips lost touch from one another the second Billy began moving his hips forward, their moans mingling in the space between them. 

“God, fuck, Stevie.” Billy could hardly control himself. He so wanted to let loose, start fucking wildly into the tight heat of Steve’s body, take him as hard and fast as possible. 

He let his hands drop down and settle on Steve’s hips. He could feel the firm muscles tensing under his hands, like Steve was barely keeping himself from rocking back to fuck himself harder and faster on Billy’s cock. 

And that’s what pushed Billy over the edge. 

He pushed Steve forward until he was back in position, face down, ass up. His hands gripped Steve’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Jesus, Billy hoped to fucking God Steve had dark marks in the shape of Billy’s fingers for days and days. And he let himself go for it. 

Steve was making these breathy, punched-out noises, like with every harsh thrust of Billy’s hips, all the air in his lungs was being forced right out of him. 

Billy was slamming them together, pulling Steve’s hips back as he surged his own forward, pulling out almost entirely each time. He was relentless, taking Steve like a goddamn animal right there on the once neat bed. 

Neither of them was going to last long, they both knew it. 

Billy had taken so much time opening Steve up with his lips and tongue and fingers, Steve wouldn’t even be shocked if he came completely untouched, falling apart with only the attentions Billy has granted to his hole. 

Until Billy reached around him with his left hand, still gripping Steve’s body with his right. 

He took hold of Steve’s leaking cock, brushing his thumb over the slit to collect some of the glistening precum, drawing his hand tightly down the shaft, moving at an agonizingly slow pace compared to the buck of his hips, keeping Steve on the edge of something, making everything way too much and definitely not enough. 

And there was nothing Steve could do. 

He felt fucking helpless as Billy pounded him. It was taking all his energy not to just melt into the mattress at this point and let Billy have his way with him. 

But Billy was getting close, too close to keep this game up for much longer. 

He sped up the movement of his hand, his fist beginning to pump faster and faster over Steve’s aching cock. He wanted him to finish first, wanted to watch as Steve writhed and moaned about. 

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute of Billy jerking Steve as quick and rough as he was fucking him, and Steve was spilling out onto the blanket below him, nearly yelling out while his hips convulsed and his fingers twisted until he had a white knuckle grip on the blanket. 

Billy could only just hang on, fuck and jerk Steve through it, only letting his grip on his cock go a little slack when Steve finally relaxed a bit below him. 

Billy pulled out, snapping off the condom and taking his dick in hand, finishing himself off all over Steve’s lower back, watching his thick cum drip down the slope of his ass. 

“ Fuck. You’re so hot,” Billy said, totally in awe. Steve was even hotter than normal wearing nothing but his bright red boots and Billy’s spunk. 

Billy took a cloth from the tiny bathroom, getting it a little wet to wipe the cum off of Steve as he lay stretched like a cat on the small bed. 

“Thank God I don’t have to ride tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, let alone get in a saddle.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Billy, bending his knees to let his feet kick up behind him, crossing his ankles in the red boots. 

“We should make the best of our good fortune, then. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

“Billy Hargrove, you fuckin’ devil .”

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Levi bites off more than he can chew by taking in a young street rat.

AN: I’ve been toying around with the POV of this series so around the 8th part the POV changes to third person, I am really lazy rn but when I get the motivation to I will come back and edit these parts to match, sorry if that bothers you! 

Word Count: 1.7K

I remembered feeling cold, laying in my usual alley I clutched onto the rag that I used as a blanket. I was only 9 years old, hungry and homeless, and now I was dying of disease. I was pitiful, balled up on the ground, laying in the mud. I vaguely recalled a boot tapping my hip, I flinched away, certain it was a Military Policeman.

"Oi, are you...alive?" the cold voice sent shivers through me, he sounded mean. I stayed still, my eyes wide with fear as I thought of the stories the other children had told me of men. The men in the underground took what they wanted. So I figured it was better if he thought me dead.

"I can see you breathing, what is your name?" he asked as he knelt down beside me. I allowed my head to turn and meet his eyes for the first time.

"Emory" I said, but it hurt to speak, my throat felt like it was made of razorblades and lined with gravel. The man raised an eyebrow at the sound of my frail voice.

"Where are your parents Emory? Is there somewhere I can take you to get taken care of?" the man pressed, I shook my head my eyes watering as I thought of how lonely I was. He sighed and stood back onto his feet, he rested his hands on his hips and looked back out onto the quiet street.

"I'll take you home with me, but once you're better you'll be back on your own." the man said, he stooped down and scooped me into his arms. I whimpered when he tossed the rag off of me with a look of disgust.

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

When I woke up I was in a bed, my hair was tied back off of my face, and a warm wash cloth was being pressed to my rosy cheeks. I licked my lips as I tried to sit up, a young girl pushed me down back into the stiff mattress.

"Don't try to move, just let me take care of you." she said, sounding a bit more aggressive than caring. I said nothing as she passed me a mug full of an earthy smelling liquid.

"It's tea, it'll make your throat better." she said as she held the mug to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted the drink, my eyes widening as the flavor hit my tongue. She was right, even as the liquid went down my throat I already felt better. I sighed as I rolled over, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this warm and cozy. I felt clean, my skin smooth rather than grimy, I was wearing an old but clean night gown, I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric in awe. The girl giggled and gently pushed me back into the pillow.

"If a grouchy man comes in don't be afraid of him, he just has a weird face." the girl said before getting up and taking out the tray of tea.

"What's your name?" I croaked, she paused by the door, her green eyes gleamed in the orange candlelight.

"Isabel." she said sweetly before exiting. When she opened the door I could make out the sounds of dishes clattering and a water pump being used. Odd, I must be in a nicer part of town for the home to have a pump. Usually multiple families had to share a water pump. I strained to hear the conversation through the door, I could at least make out 3 separate voices, one I recognized as Isabel, and another as the man who had collected me. The third voice spoke little but when he did it sent chills down my spine. Finally the pump stopped, and I could hear what they were saying.

"We can't keep her Farlan, she's just another snot nosed brat, if we go around picking up every kid we see we might as well open an orphanage." the voice hissed, silence followed his words and I cowered back into the pillow, pulling the blanket up so I could hide my face.

"Not fair Levi, I'm sure she can be of some use to us! Plus she's rather cute." Isabel said, followed by the sound of footsteps on the old wooden floor.

"I don't care what the brat looks like, we can barely feed ourselves no need for another mouth to feed." the third voice, Levi snarled. The room fell silent and I felt ice run through my veins.

"At least go look at her before you tell us we can't keep her, say it to her face that you don't want her." Farlan, the man who I presumed had initially brought me here said, matching Levi's venomous tone.

"Fine." Levi scoffed, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and burrowed deeper into the covers. My heart raced when the door slowly creaked open, light spilling into the dim room.

"Oi, come out of there." his voice was close, definitely standing off to my left. I flinched when I felt his hand close around the blanket and pull it off of me. I yelped and snatched the corner before he could pull it away from my grasp.

"F-fuck off!" I squeaked, something that I had picked up off the streets, not that I knew what the words meant but other than to leave me alone. His eyes widened a fraction when I spoke, one of his thin eyebrows arching as he took in my appearance. I barely registered the sounds of muffled laughter as Farlan and Isabel chuckled in the doorway.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Levi asked incredulously, I shuffled backwards on the bed to put some space between us.

"It's what people tell me when I get too close to them." I admitted, whenever I would approach adults and sometimes older children they would use those words. Levi scoffed and sat down in the chair Isabel had occupied earlier.

"You shouldn't talk like that." he said, a frown etched deeply into his delicate features. I furrowed my brows, I had never had anyone tell me what I should and shouldn't do, I had grown up an orphan, only vague memories of my parents.

"You're not my dad." I said a wave of emotion overcoming me.

"No I'm not, and that's why you can't stay here, you don't belong with us." he said coldly, he stood and brushed past the pair in the doorway, who stood in shock as you watched him disappear. Isabel rushed into the room and sat on the bed, a sympathetic look on her childish face.

"I- He- I'm sure he doesn't mean those things, he can be a bit... shy when meeting new people." she said as I looked up at her expectantly.

"He does have a weird face." was all I said as she struggled to excuse Levi's harsh words. Farlan snorted and sat down in the chair next to the bed, his blue eyes turning soft when he took in my thin wrists.

"I'm sure he'll come to tolerate you." Farlan said, placing a hand on my back, he grimaced when he felt the ridges of my spine through Isabel's nightgown.

"Man kid do you want something to eat?" he joked despite the sick feeling that blossomed in his gut. I nodded and leaned into his touch subconsciously, he smiled and stood to go get me something while Isabel crawled under the covers with me.

"How did you end up all alone?" she asked as I settled into her side, my head resting on her chest.

"I dunno." I said, too focused on her heartbeat to listen to her question.

"Are your parents not around?" she pressed, I shrugged.

"Can't remember." I sighed as I nuzzled into her. She inhaled sharply when I let out a little sigh.

"Emory, please tell me what you know so I can help you." she said gently, craning her neck to get a glimpse of me.

"I don't know who my parents are, or where I came from, just that I'm here." I shrugged, breathing in Isabel's lavender scent. She tensed at my words and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry... how long have you been alone?" she asked quietly.

"Since forever." I said. Before Isabel could say anything else, Farlan returned holding a small loaf of bread.

"Here, I don't want to give you anything heavy incase you barf, that would be a waste." he chuckled as he handed me the bread.

"Oi you better not be feeding that brat in my bed, she'll get crumbs everywhere." Levi raised his voice slightly to berate you from the other room. Farlan smiled and pushed the bread into my hands, Isabel sat up and pulled me along with her. I bit into the bread not surprised to find it a bit stale. Farlan sat down on the end of the bed and watched me wolf down the bread.

"Slow down little girl!" he laughed as he watched me finish off the bread and wipe my mouth.

"That was good, thank you." I said before nestling back into Isabel. Farlan smiled, already feeling attached to the spirited girl.

"How old are you Emory?" Farlan asked, leaning forwards on the bed to get a peek at my face.

"Uh... I think I'm 9?" I said my face screwing up in frustration as I thought about my age.

"You think?" Farlan asked, raising an eyebrow and letting a smirk crawl onto his lips.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure but my friends are 9 so that must mean I'm 9 too." I said, quickly tiring of all these questions. Farlan laughed again, Isabel swatted him in the shoulder, jostling me as she sat up.

"Quit laughing at her she can't help it!" Isabel scolded. Farlan stuttered out a feeble apology as he struggled to stop laughing. But by the time he managed to apologize I was already slipping into the best sleep I would ever have. Isabel shushed him as she pulled me closer and rolled us onto our sides.

"I'm sure he'll warm up to her, how can he not? She's damn funny." Farlan said as he watched Isabel hold me close. She nodded in agreement as she brushed her fingers through my golden locks. I sighed in my sleep, feeling safe for the first time in my short life.

I miss them.

[imhereformr]

Hi! :) Could you please do prompt 11 for Rivusa? 💜💜 I wish you a wonderful day!

11: Secret Relationship

Rival gang AU /// Content warning: mildly smutty

The abandoned car factory wasn’t the most romantic place. It was certainly not where Musa had ever expected to be having rendez-vous’ with her lover. The place, even though it’d been deserted for close to twenty years now, smelled like a strange mixture of leather, chemicals and dust. Occasionally, the ghost smell of burning metal would tickle her nose, but those were rare. Besides, she spent most of her time coiled into Riven’s side, enveloped by the fresh, woodsy scent of his aftershave or the sweetness of his sweat.

She walked through the building to the backroom where they spent most of what little, precious time they had together. Always Monday nights, sometimes Wednesdays if they were lucky. She hated sneaking around, but it was necessary. If her father, the president of Magix’s Fallen Angels, found out his daughter was fucking – and in love with – the VP of their rival gang, The Dragon Riders, a war would break out between the two that would likely leave more dead bodies than she wanted to be responsible for.

No matter how hard she tried to keep quiet, her footsteps seemed to echo through the building. Every time they met up, she became paranoid. Musa was careful – more careful than she’d ever been about anything. She made sure to leave in the middle of the night once her father was asleep; made sure to always park her car a block away instead of in front of their house so that if he woke up he wouldn’t see her leave; made sure that no one was watching her as she got in her car; made sure that no cars followed her when she got off the ramp that led to the near-deserted stretch of road where the factory was; and made sure to park her car inside the old employee indoor garage who’s door that Riven had managed to fix so they could open and close it. All that effort – so much more effort than she ever thought she’d put into seeing a guy – just for a few hours by his side. And it was, in her opinion, more than worth it.

The door to the office where they spent their time was already open when she got there. Unlike the rest of the factory that was littered with trash, dirt and discarded production equipment, this office was in decent shape. It helped that Riven had taken the time to clean it when he had come across the area. There was a desk that faced towards the right wall, a torn black leather office chair, shelving and filing cabinets; all from the factory days, and all in surprisingly good condition. Riven had bought a loveseat for the corner of the office for them to cuddle up on a while back – that was the sole addition to the room. She would have preferred a bed so they could lie down, but there just wasn’t enough space.

Musa paused by the office door. Riven, leaning against the front of the desk with his phone in hand, still hadn’t noticed her arrival – she must not have been as loud as she thought – so she took a moment to drink him in. He was tall – significantly taller than her – with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He always looked the same: dark wash jeans, a plain t-shirt and his leather jacket, the very one that told her she shouldn’t be near him. His maroon hair was slicked back – partially by stylistic choice, but also because he had a habit of running his hand through his hair whenever he was thinking about something or uncomfortable – and he still had a scar along his cheekbone from a fight he’d been in two weeks earlier. She knew that under his clothes, adorning a body worthy of a god, were more scars and bruises from that fight and others past, and two gunshot wounds: one in his right shoulder and one just above his left hip bone.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked when she realised she’d been staring at him far longer than was normal. Riven’s hand instinctively reached for the gun he kept tucked into the back of his jeans but stopped when he registered her voice. He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled brightly. His smile sent a bolt of lightning through Musa, awakening something deep in her. She returned his smile as she approached him, pulling off her own leather jacket. He mirrored her movements, tossing his jacket onto the desk where it landed on top of hers.

His lips were on hers within seconds, hungry and desperate. His hands wasted no time in making their way to her hips and pulling her as close to him as physically possible. Her own hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly with every moan that escaped her lips. Riven backed her up against the wall, pressing himself into her. “You’re late” he whispered, removing his lips from hers to trail kisses down her neck.

“Sorry” she managed between gentle moans and pleased sighs. “Dad went to bed a bit later than usual.”

“Doesn’t matter. You're here.” His lips returned to hers, drowning her in desire. One of his hands wandered down from her shoulders to her chest, where his thumb brushed over her nipple lightly, sending a shiver through her, and down to the hem of her shirt. There was no pretense of modesty, no playfulness in the way Riven pulled the shirt off her. He knew what he wanted, and she was more than happy to give it to him. She hadn’t bothered to put a bra on in her rush to get out of the house, and Riven smirked when he noticed. He ducked down to suck at her nipple, and Musa arched her back to make it easier for him.

Her hands ran along his back, digging into him with her nails, until they found the edge of his shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift movement. Her eyes drifted down to his perfectly sculpted abs as she ran her hand across them, feeling every groove and bump. She let her hands slide lower, giddiness and anticipation building with every second, until one was cupping and teasing his bulge and the other was fiddling with his pant button.

Musa could feel his eyes on her, and when she lifted her own to meet them, she found him watching her with a softness that made her feel like goo. “What?” she laughed, her voice coming out much breathier than she’d expected. Riven shook his head, pulling his eyes away from hers and whispering an almost inaudible nothing. When they’d first started doing this – whatever this was – Musa would get upset when he would do that. She thought he was hiding something from her. It had been two years since then, and she knew better now. Nothing didn’t mean nothing; it meant I’m happy or you’re perfect or, her favourite, I love you.

***

Riven pulled her onto the loveseat beside him and draped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, feeling it rise and fall in time with his chest and heavy breaths. Her finger trailed along his sweat-slicked chest, drawing figure eights. A smile was plastered on his face and his eyes were still glazed over from his orgasm. He was beautiful.

“I’ve been looking at Melody” he told her after a few minutes. She could feel his fingers ghosting over the angel wings tattooed on her back. He traced the wings every time they were together, and every time she wished they weren’t there. Those wings represented a stupid, made up barrier keeping her from him, and she’d grown to despise them.

“Oh?” Musa raised her eyebrow as she tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were focused on the dark office, but looked faraway from where they were. She loved his eyes. They were a deep shade of violet that swirled and danced every emotion he felt. He was her ticket into his soul and, now that she could figure them out, she never had to wonder if he truly loved her again. Until the day when those eyes wouldn’t look at her like she was the sun, she knew he was hers just as much, if not more, than she was his.

“You told me you’ve always wanted to see the realm your mom was from. And I looked into it, there is no Dragon charter out there. You’ll have to confirm about the Angels, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Musa sat upright, resting her palm flat against his chest. She searched his eyes for any hint of dishonesty or humour, but found none. “Really?” They’d talked about leaving Magix – getting away from the gang life and starting over somewhere – more times than she could count. Everywhere had been an idea: Solaria, Eraklyon, Andros, Melody, Zenith, Dalona, Oppositus. That’s all they’d ever been, though, ideas.

“Yeah. I don’t know what my future holds, but if it doesn’t include you – all of you, not just secret meetings in the middle of the night in some shitty abandoned factory – I don’t want it.” Riven dropped his head onto the back of the couch and let it flop sideways to look at her. His hand caressed her cheek with a tenderness that she knew he reserved for her. Her hand lowered from his chest to trace the dragon’s tail that coiled up his right leg, ending in a majestic magenta, blue and black dragon on his back. “I like Melody.”

“Good” he smiled. “I’ve looked at real estate and I have enough money saved up that we can get a nice place of our own. We couldn’t get anything big enough for a family in the city, but the suburbs are still really affordable.”

“The suburbs? Are we the suburban type?” she laughed. “I mean, I’ll have to learn to bake pies. And what the fuck does a PTA do?”

“Do you think we’ll have to get a minivan?” he added, laughing at the snort that escaped her lips.

“Of course. How else are we gonna get the kids to soccer practice?”

“Fine, but I refuse to wear beige or polos. And I still want at least one bike.”

“And I won’t wear dresses or curl my hair. Plus I demand that you keep at least one jacket. You look too hot in leather to give it up entirely.” Musa eyed the leather jackets crumpled on top of the desk. “Preferably one without a dragon on it.”

“We’re gonna scandalise the neighbours with our tattoos, leather jackets and motorcycles.”

“That’s fine. We’ll probably be the coolest parents in the neighbourhood.”

They fantasized about their life after escaping until Musa’s alarm went off at 4:15, breaking them out of the dream bubble they created and forcing them to return to their real lives. They got dressed as slowly as possible, dragging out the time until they’d have to be apart again. Then, the lovers walked hand in hand through the factory to the garage.

When they reached their vehicles, Riven pulled her into a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, reciprocating the tightness of his around her waist. After pulling away before the kiss became too heavy, Riven laid his forehead against hers. “One month” he whispered. She looked up at him through the messy fringe on her forehead. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was drawn tight. “That’s the goal. We leave in one month.”

“Wait, really?” Musa pulled her head away from his as she batted her eyelashes in confusion. She never thought he’d actually want to leave Magix. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, are you not?” Riven furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his jaw. She could feel his fists clenching on her back, and the doubt and hurt that sparked in his breathtaking eyes tore Musa to shreds, made her feel like she’d just stabbed the man she loved. “I’m in. I just never thought you would actually want to. I mean, the Dragons are your family.”

“And the Angels are yours, but we can make our own family. One free of drugs and turf wars.”

“Just pies, minivans and nosy, scandalised neighbours. Sounds perfect.”

“Anywhere that you are is perfect” he whispered, pulling her back in and placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. They stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing in each other's scent and memorising every feature so they wouldn’t forget them in the week until they could see each other again. Riven’s alarm went off, alerting them that it was 4:45 and they had to leave now. He pulled her into one last kissed, far sweeter than any they’d shared in their two years together. It was full of promise and hope, something they’d never had before.

“I love you Musa.” It was so rare to hear him say the words I love you that Musa cherished every single one. In their two years, he’d said it exactly twelve times. The first was a year ago when it had slipped out after they’d had sex. Not exactly romantic, but still very cute. “I love you too Riven.”

They shared one more quick peck before Musa watched him take a seat on his bike and ride away. She got in her car and let out an elated sigh and took off, already counting down the days. All she had to do now was sit tight and not let anything slip. It couldn’t be that hard; she’d already kept this secret for twenty-seven months. What was one more? She just had to make it through this one month without her excitement bubbling over and he would be all hers.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

   “Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

[soramel]

Chained to you (Part 1)

How far can people go for power? How far can you go for love? kthxreader

drabble: You tried to snuck away from your marriage by making a scandal on your own. Have you photographed with someone outside a bar that will cause enough humiliation for your parents. Not knowing the man you chose for your ploy was your fiancé himself. You thought you’ve seen enough of the real world, but being with Taehyung only unraveled so much more. genre: angst, romance, unconventional love warning: eventual smut

A/N: cross-posted from wattpad; updates are uploaded in wattpad first

Part 1 word count: 6.4k

You were having another dinner night with your parents. Silence reigns on your table and only the occasional clink of silverware against the porcelain can be heard. You were used to it. The rectangular table is too enormous for a family of three, the cold marbled floor, the empty hallways. Sometimes you wished for a smaller house because you find the generous space exhausting to stride from and to, but at suffocating times, it provides room to breathe. Like at times like this.

"Mr. Kim's son will arrive in three days. We'll have brunch with the Kims on Sunday," your father informed nonchalantly. You held in a breath as your grip tightened around your spoon. It has been a month since your parents informed you about the marriage they arranged for you.

As a conglomerate heiress, you thought you'll be exposed to a lot of choices for your partner, but as you grew older, your status only narrowed it down. And now, you're left with no choice at all.

At that, your mom started planning for the occasion while you just went on with your meal.

The idea of them meddling with such personal matters like your relationship does not sit well with you. Not that you've been into anything serious for the past two years, but heck, despite your serious disposition, you did not want to tie down yourself in a loveless marriage.

It worked for your parents, but you're not sure if it could work for you. Besides, you barely know the man. You can't even remember his face.

"Mom, dad, I think it's too early to get married. Don't you think?" you uttered. This is your nth time having your dislike laid on the table. Although compared to your past fierce protests, this one's a tamed one, hoping that they'll reconsider your feelings about it now.

Your mom dramatically said, "22 is not young, darling! I was 18 when I was engaged to your father and 19 when we got married."

Your jaw tensed, "I have a lot of things I want to do. Besides, am I not your daughter? Why do I feel like a collateral security?"

"Y/n!" your mom shouted, offended. It's true. You don't know the whole thing but you're sure there's a business partnership behind this arrangement.

Then your father spoke, "You'll end up married anyway, why not do it now? Why waste your time dating around when there's already a man matched for you?"

You've been in this conversation before and it ended up running in circles. A diplomatic approach looked hopeless.

"Love can be learned. What you need to look for in your partner are the benefits he would bring to you," your father smugly said. Turning to your mom at his statement, your mom just gave you a smile.

"Taehyung is a good man, Y/n. You'll love him," she said. You did not respond. Taehyung was a childhood friend, but now he's a stranger. Your family is close with the Kims but you barely see each other, then when college came, you heard that he went abroad for his studies.

Your mom stood up from her seat to go beside you. Placing her hand on your back, she sweetly said, "And do this for us, okay? We've been working hard for your father's presidential campaign for years. This is your chance to help. We're not asking for you to be with us on campaigns."

You wished it was just that.

#

The news of your engagement soon circulated. No articles were written about it yet, maybe it was your mom's doing. She has a strong connection with the press given that she's a famous socialite.

Regardless, the buzzing news was enough for you to receive more stares than usual in your building. You also noticed some paparazzis lingering around when you dine out or shop in your favorite designer store. The increasing attention you've gathered was enough to send you over the edge for the whole week.

To make things worse, tomorrow's the dreaded day. You'll get to meet your fiancé. An estranged childhood friend.

One shot,

then another,

and another.

"Yeah!" your friend, Sunmi, cheered. You got to escape for the night. Your parents thought you'll be sleeping over at your friend, but little did they know, you'll have your share of fun for the longest time you've jailed yourself within the four corners of your office.

"Cheers!" you smirked at Sunmi who's smiling from ear to ear as she bottomed out her shot glass. Then she hugged you, "I missed you! The last time we hung out like this was in college!" she shouted over the loud music. You're in a booth good for ten people. You were hesitant at first to join her and her friends on a night out, but you need to get out of your head for now.

"What's up with you these days?!" she asked.

You took another shot and leaned to her, realizing that she hadn't caught the news yet. "I'm getting married," you said, but it was drowned out by the new music that started to play, making the crowd in the club cheer.

"What?!" she asked, leaning to you.

"I'm getting married!"

"What the fuck?!" her eyes were wide like a bunny caught in a red light. You laughed at her reaction. Then she squealed, making you lean away from her and cover your ears. Her friends didn't mind though and went on with their own thing. "To who?! Oh my god?! Why? How?! You don't have a boyfriend!" she spluttered.

It was actually your first time to find the situation funny. All the time when you think about it, it only stresses you out, but now the whole thing sounded so silly. "I don't know! All I know is that he does not look that good," you complained, making a silly face. You're not sure about his looks but whatever. Your distaste grew towards him the moment your father forced you to marry him.

Sunmi laughed, "An arranged marriage?! Oh god. That's still a thing?!"

You let out a disappointed expression as you held in your smile.

She downed another shot and shook her head, "I won't get rich people like you. So old school."

With a deep frown, you drank another glass that she filled. Sunmi's parents work in one of your mom's companies, you met her in the university as you were in the same classes during your freshman year. Months into your friendship, that's when she knew about your family.

"I really don't like to get married yet but my parents... you know them." you complained, loud enough for her to hear. You did not notice that the two of you already created a world of your own, shutting other people out who are in the same table. They were already playing drinking games, others were dancing, but you two just went on with your conversation.

Sunmi smiled naughtily and poured you another drink, you accepted it, laughing.

"If there's a will, there's a way!"

Raising a brow at her, you crossed your leg over the other and looked up. Feeling the alcohol seep into your system. The buzzing feeling felt good.

Flailing your hand dramatically, you asked, "Great Sunmi, let's hear your advice. Help thy stupid friend."

The cheshire smile that creeped on her lips sent you giggling. "You're not drunk enough. I'll tell you later."

After accepting another shot from her, she took your hand and led you to the dance floor. You were both laughing over nothing while you just swayed your hips to the music.

"Eyyy!!!" you howled at the drop of the familiar song playing. Not minding the bodies brushing against you, you enjoyed your time with your friend. At the end of the song, she dragged you back to the booth and grabbed a tequila bottle from one of her friends. They all cheered when she hoisted it up to you.

"Open your mouth!" she commanded.

You don't drink well straight from the bottle, so you shook your head no. But they egged on. Sunmi laughed, "Come on," then she pushed your shoulder down, "Kneel, bitch!"

The lot roared. You hated it but since your group is starting to get attention, you followed Sunmi to get it over with. With knees on the dirty floor, you opened your mouth as she poured the tequila down your throat.

"One!" they started counting.

"Two!"

"Three!'' That's when you tapped out. Closing your eyes, you gulped it down. You know you're out of it because the alcohol tastes good without the chaser.

This is going to be a good night, you thought.

You're now dancing with Sunmi and her friends. They all said their names as they made small talks, but you were too high to remember them. You twirled as you danced with the music, then at the corner of your eyes, you saw a familiar man. One of the paparazzis who's been following you nonstop. You recognized him because he's not one of those who hides behind the bush. He would casually be in the place where you're in and take pictures.

You felt disgusted. Your whole mood dampened. Your mom can do something about it if ever articles would be released, but you did not want to be scolded over simple stuff like this.

Sunmi noticed the shift in your mood, so she asked, "Hey! What's wrong?"

You stood up straight, getting ready to leave when she stopped you. "Y/n! What's up?"

You sighed, then with a frown, you said, "Saw a paparazzi, he's watching me. I gotta go."

Her mouth formed an "o" before a bright stupid idea popped in her mind. She dragged you back to your booth, urging you to sit down.

"I'm not in the mood anymore, Sunmi!" you whined, you became a bit emotional as you felt tears springing up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't be upset. This is a good thing," she cooed.

"How is that a good thing?! Do you know how the news of my engagement has been buzzing around for days now? People are following me, watching my every move as if... the point is, I didn't sign up for this! I didn't ask for this!"

She patted your back as you rant, then she said, "You can break up your engagement, you know?"

You glared at her for making it sound so simple, "It's not that easy, Sunmi!" you felt hurt. Didn't she realize how pliant you are to your parents' command when they started insisting things on you? Especially when they're mad?

"It is! You're an adult now, you're a lady boss! You can do anything you want."

You huffed. This is going nowhere, your thoughts are fuzzy, the glaring lights and the loud music are not helping.

She tsk-ed when you lied down the couch. You're truly wasted. "I know a way to stop everything. And your chance is that paparazzi," she said as she pulled you up. Scrunching your eyebrows, you asked, "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a naughty one, before letting you in on her plan.

You both surveyed the bar and the dancefloor from where you're sitting at, but no one seems to be the right man for your ploy. In your sober state, you wouldn't agree with your devil of a friend, but you're lost as fuck and besides you like the idea.

"There." Sunmi pointed out a guy who's drinking alone at the bar. You took a swig of a drink you didn't know before strutting heads on to the man she pointed out. He does not look so bad.

Halfway through your stride, you ran your fingers through your hair. You smirked when you realized that you're really doing this.

His doe eyes are adorable, he has a small face and he's tall. He looks serious as he stares at his drink. Then as if he saw you on the corner of his eyes, he looked up and met your gaze.

You look sultry at that moment. You did not let go of his gaze as you approached him. However, the admiration that flashed in his eyes almost sent you back. You averted your gaze, he saw you coming. So instead of going with your initial plan, you just sat two seats away from him and ordered a drink as an excuse.

That flicker of emotion was familiar to you. You see it in parties you rarely attend with your parents. Men who knew who you are and their intention of having a too personal business relationship with you.

Wrong man. You send Sunmi a look as you wait for your drink. She just rolled her eyes back at you.

It's not the time to be picky, but you want to be safe. You're looking for someone who you can invite to take you out then drop them once a picture of you were taken. This one looks difficult to brush off. Scanning the crowd, you eye for your next target. You looked up at the second floor but it's too dark to see faces.

"Hey," the man you were eyeing earlier moved to the seat beside yours. You sent him a disinterested smile, not uttering a reply. You sigh in your thoughts as you find no one good enough for your ploy.

Trying one more time, he licked his lips before saying, "Not having fun here?"

The bartender slid you your drink, you took a sip while thinking whether you should reply or not. Then your attention caught a man who emerged from a staircase. His hair was covering his eyes, but you could tell that he's hot. His aura is something. You watched him intently as he headed towards the bar. To you. You smiled at the coincidence.

Thoughts fogged with your friend, the flowing booze, the music, the blaring lights, different scents of sin, the hazy atmosphere that made you high, your stress, the fucking paparazzi, your traditional parents...

Fuck it.

His stance screams dominance.

He stopped for no one until he reached you. No words were spoken as he claimed your waist, pulling your body against him. You saw him smirk and with dazed eyes you glanced up at him.

Finally, a fuccboi who won't bat an eyelash as you asked him out. A perfect pawn for your plan but everything took a different turn when his lips met yours. "Sure, I'm yours for the night," he answered, his voice deep, before diving in for another kiss. His hands gripping your ass.

He held you tight by his side as you walked out of that damned place. He rained kisses on your collarbone and shoulder while you wait for his car, not giving a damn to those who were staring. You were in just for a picture but his touch and kisses sparks fire that you never felt before.

#

Throat-parched, you woke up in tangled sheets. Your head is pounding and your body's sore. Realizing that you're naked under the sheets, you jolted awake, making you clutch your head as you suffer from a hangover.

Well, fuck. What happened last night? you asked yourself. Crumpling the sheets to your naked chest while you lean on the headboard.

The man beside you stirred at the sudden movement. He's laying on his stomach as he turned his head to face you. Your eyes widened when his eyes met yours. He's beautiful, alright. Blush crept up your cheeks at his wicked smile and he did this weird thing moving his jaw as if chewing something before brushing up his tongue on his upper lip, taking in your presence. He let out a low chuckle at your expression while you're busy putting a name on the man's face. But fuck, you can't remember.

He dragged you down by your waist and nuzzled on your neck, watching his muscles flex in the process. "Thought you'll be gone by the morning," he muttered with his bedroom voice. Is that his way of asking you to leave? You wondered, irritated by his remark.

You were thinking of a smart comeback when your phone rang inside your purse. It was placed on the bedside table together with your last night's dress which was neatly folded along with your lace undies. Much to your surprise.

Dad calling...

Your breathing hitched as you glanced at the time. It says 8 am. You sent a knowing glance to the man beside you, but he just reciprocated your telepathy with a chuckle. You answered the call nonetheless.

"Dad," you started, your voice calculating as you steady your breathing.

"Are you on your way back? The Kims will be here at ten," he said straightforwardly. Your eyes widened in shock. You cleared your throat before replying in a rush, "Yes, yes. I'm on my way from Sunmi. Will be there in time."

You dropped the call right away, not waiting for your father to respond. Wincing, you swung your legs out of the bed and gathered your clothing and slipped in your underwear.

"Now, you're leaving?" the man asked as you clasp your bra back. His tone teasing. You looked back and saw him enjoying your frantic escape. Your forehead scrunched in annoyance before raising a brow at him, "I didn't know if I had fun last night. But regardless, this won't happen again," you retaliated.

His face turned sour at your statement. You hurriedly slipped in your dress and gathered your purse, not minding where the heck your jewelry was. Leaving his apartment in a haste, you failed to see his knowing smile.

#

Memories of last night started flooding back. It was just bit and pieces, but those memories made it clear that you had sex with him. You just wished your memories weren't trustworthy enough but the pain between your legs only confirmed it.

You feel hot all over. You bit your lip at the images that spilled in your mind.

The way he pinned you on the wall right after he opened his door. The way he nipped on your neck, your chest, stomach, and even the inside of your thighs. His feverish touch. Everything felt so sensual.

Your heart beat rapidly as the memories became more vivid. The way he looked at you, his eyes darkened with desire. His low moans and grunts. His silence as he rammed into you, intently watching the little changes in your expression as he thrust deeper.

Time flew fast that now you realized you're in front of the mirror, all dressed and freshened up for the first meeting with your in-laws and fiancé. You still feel like floating due to your hangover and your head aches like hell but that was not enough to bar you from feeling all these emotions. Of helplessness, loneliness, hatred. You browsed your phone to see any news from last night, but you found nothing.

Sunmi told you that she'll make sure you'll get photographed by the paparazzi. Maybe you were too drunk to follow through and were deeply engaged with your last night's companion. You sent a text to your friend,

Was I caught last night?

"Honey, are you ready?" your mom asked from the other side of the door. You didn't notice her knocking.

You sighed as you placed your phone on the charging pad. "Yeah, I'll be out in a bit," you said loud enough for her to hear.

"We'll be at the patio. Don't take too long, okay?"

Should I tell them I have a boyfriend? As you walk downstairs with heavy steps, you were formulating your escape plans but all of them required courage to put shame on your parents in front of the Kims. You're too much of a darling to do that in your sober state.

The least thing you could do is bail your time. However, you doubt if that will work.

The weather outside is nice. It's sunny but not too hot. You saw three house staffs lined outside as they served the elders of their brunch. There was another man sitting on the round table, his back facing yours, you assumed that's Taehyung, your fiancé. A cantilever umbrella was placed against the sun. You encountered some staff walking to and from your kitchen to bring more dishes outside.

When you approached the table, only one seat was left vacant, which was beside your fiancé, his back facing yours. You bowed and greeted everyone good morning, followed by an apology for being late. Mrs. Kim brushed it off, smiling at you, "We just arrived, Y/n. Don't fret."

You reciprocated her warm greeting with a smile. Your father cleared his throat as he told you to take your seat. You did not even bother to look at the man beside you as you felt your hate grow.

The awkward silence was broken when Mr. Kim's son spoke, "How are you feeling, Y/n?" The familiarity of his voice made you snap your gaze at him.

Shock is an understatement. If your eyes could bulge out of its sockets, it already did. The man that you had a one-night stand with is now sitting at an arm's length away from you with a smug smile on his face. You blinked twice. Thrice.

"F-fine. I'm fine. Thanks for asking," you stuttered. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure. You didn't know Taehyung looks this good. You barely remember him from your childhood. You didn't meet him during your teenage years since you weren't really fond of the parties that your parents attend. The time you went with them was only a handful and every time you'll go, Taehyung wasn't there, only his parents. Until you heard of the news that he moved overseas for his studies. You can only care less for you were never interested in him. Until now.

You wonder if you should pretend that you don't know him. Well you really don't. You know him by his name, yes. You weren't even able to recognize him last night. Were you that drunk to fail in putting two and two together? Did he even say his name?

Mr. Kim then said, "I see you haven't forgotten each other. That's a relief."

Your gaze turned to the old man, giving him an awkward smile, while your mother eyes you suspiciously.

The brunch started with a casual talk. Most of the time, it was your parents asking Taehyung about the time he spent abroad. It has been seven years. He would go back here for short vacations but most of his free time was spent for internships. You learned that he's a very career-oriented man. Or that's the picture he's painting. You'll never know.

You were just silent for the whole thing, barely touching your food because you don't have the appetite. You enjoyed the coffee though, as strange as it is. When the fruits arrived, that was the only time you were able to eat properly. The sweetness of the honeydew was refreshing to your system.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung smiled at your actions. You were indeed wasted last night, he realized.

"Y/n, I heard you started working for your airline company. How is it?" Mr. Kim asked, pulling you out of your headspace.

They looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, including Taehyung. "I'm having fun so far. It's only been six months, but I feel like I've learned a lot," you replied, "Yet, not quite everything," your tone even and casual.

"I actually worked with Y/n before when she was still in Waldorf. We handled their security systems," Mrs. Kim recalled fondly before adding, "Which one do you like more, Y/n?" she asked, making you choose between the airline company and the hotel line you've handled so far.

With a tight-lipped smile, you said, "I grew to be fond of both, Mrs. Kim."

She nodded knowingly, satisfied at your answer. Your hotels are situated near airports all over the world, it's not one of those who caters for tourists in the middle of the city. Though independent from the airline, the two businesses work together symbiotically. Then Mr. Kim asked, "Have you thought of studying abroad, Y/n? It might help with your work. You and Taehyung could have studied in the same university together."

"I had my MBA degree here, Mr. Kim. The curriculum is at par with others, so it was alright. I preferred to study here so I could also come to work."

Your mom then interjected, chuckling softly, "You know how workaholic she is. I'm thankful she's more interested in the corporate world than life in politics."

Her remark sent your dad laughing, "She'd be a darling to my constituents for sure. But I doubt she'll fit right in. You know how my world is." His statement earned a chuckle from the Kims except for Taehyung who just smiled.

Aside from the occasional charity work that you do with your mom for your dad's sake, he never actively made you involved with his activities. He was a city mayor during your childhood years then moved to the national assembly. You were more popular in his world as a cute girl who's tagging along and now, you're well known for being a socialite after your mother, given your family's status.

The chatter died down when phones buzzed. You left yours in your room so you couldn't check for yourself what's happening. The elders took their phones out and seemed to be browsing their phone down.

You and Taehyung just looked at each other out of curiosity.

"Y/n,"

"Son,"

Your fathers uttered at the same time. A stern look was plastered on your dad's face but he's not angry. However, that expression is familiar to you. That's when he tries to see what's beyond the person he's talking to.

Contrary to the reaction of your parents and Mr. Kim, Mrs. Kim gushed at the two of you. "You brats! You're seeing each other behind our back?" she squealed.

Your mom let out an uncomfortable laugh, "I'm sorry, I haven't seen this one coming. Should I have the article pulled out?" she said, turning to your father, her face etched with worry.

Taehyung's face is blank. You figured he also had no idea, but you caught on. Maybe it's your picture last night. Your hands gripped tightly onto your seat.

What have you gotten yourself into, Y/n? you scolded yourself. If you only knew who he was. Wait, does he know who you are when he approached you last night?

You sent him a glare at your realization. This jerk.

Your father turned to your mother and said, "It's alright, have their engagement announced as early as possible," then he turned to the Kims, "I hope that's alright with you."

The move infuriated you. The fact that your father did not even ask if it's alright with you, you were the one who's getting married, not them!

Finally, Taehyung spoke, "May I ask what this is all about, sir?" he asked. His tone is careful.

Your father sighed then answered, "It's a picture of the two of you last night, outside a club. Not a good publicity but the article was decent enough to declare that you're dating. Which reminds me..." he then turned to you and asked, "I thought you were at your friend's last night?"

Shit.

"Ah," Taehyung muttered. He looked at you as he answered for your sake and his, but the playful smile on his lips should have told you he meant nothing good. "I met Y/n the day I arrived in the country. I'm sorry if we hid it from you, we wanted to get to know each other on our own before the engagement. I fetched her last night from her friend's party. That's all."

Great. Almost good Taehyung. Fuck, you should've kept your mouth shut. You were murdering him with your glare when your father's eyebrows furrowed further that you couldn't count the wrinkles on his forehead.

The situation didn't help you from escaping your doomed marriage, if only, it tied you down more. Unfortunately, your father was too smart to not take advantage of the situation, uncaring what it might look like to the people on the table. With a raised brow, he declared, "Y/n just got home this morning, so you were with her the whole time?"

Your mother and Mrs. Kim's shocked faces made your face blush, while Mr. Kim just cleared his throat as he glanced at his son. You couldn't read his expression. So, before Taehyung denies it and turn the situation against you, you answered, "Yes, I was with him."

Days ago, you couldn't even imagine that you will be driving the nail deeper on the veil. Now, you totally screwed yourself over.

Taehyung didn't protest. Instead, he held your hand in his. A satisfied smirk plastered on his face as you force your hand out of his grip, "We can announce the engagement as soon as possible. That, I agree with, sir."

#

Articles were soon released about your rumored engagement. It was your mom's doing, she was the one who's been holding the news off for the week and she just had it released right after your dating scandal that she failed to monitor. Interestingly, people bought it.

"So, when are we having the wedding?" Mrs. Kim enthusiastically asked that day after everyone calmed down. She was looking at you expectantly, but you just returned her look not really knowing what to say. It's not that you have agreed to the arrangement.

Your mom answered for you, "With the situation at hand, I advise it's better if we skip the engagement party. Have their wedding by the end of the month."

"Mom," you called out, protest is evident in your voice at the sudden speed of things. Your heart's beating fast. You don't want this.

In all honesty, you have an idea that this is all for business purposes, but it also looks like a publicity stunt and show of power of your father given that he'll be running for presidency. Your father is famous alright, but the limited campaign period before elections is short that publicizing your wedding months before would help boost your father's image without it counting as a "campaign". Basically, your marriage would hit two stones for him, power and popularity.

You cried that night. Being married off to a man you barely spent time with, horrible images flashed in your head, picturing how miserable your life would be. You missed a lot of calls from Sunmi, but you were nursing your own pain that you didn't want to talk to anyone.

After sending her a text saying that you're fine, you turned your phone off. You've been receiving calls and messages the whole afternoon. Some were asking about the truth behind the scandal while some are sending their congratulations.

You woke up the next morning hearing that Taehyung is in your father's study. Angered at how you're being cornered and not even giving you time to think over it, you hated them for treating you like a thing. You stormed into your father's office downstairs, still in your silk pajamas.

They seemed to be in a deep conversation at that moment. Both heads turned towards your sudden arrival.

"I'm not getting married," you declared without further ado.

Taehyung witnessed your banter with your father so early in the morning. You tried so hard not to shed a single tear, but the gravity of the situation stressed you out more than anything. All the while he just looked out the window and averted his gaze when your emotions started getting the better of you.

"Stop controlling my life for once! I did everything you asked and expected me to do! I can handle your empire without a man!" you argued after a heated exchange with your father.

But that just went through his ears. Then he ended up saying things he didn't truly mean. Hurting you.

"You can't secure your power alone, Y/n. Still, you're a woman."

Your mouth fell agape. You never heard of that word before as an insult but the way your father said it started a wildfire within you.

"Your excuses are bullshit. You need me, a woman, to secure your own power. You know that," you spat. Heaving with rage, you drew your last straw as you said with fire in your eyes, "You're not using this woman. She's leaving."

"Y/n!" your father's voice boomed 'til the empty hallways, startling everyone except you.

You walked back to your room and quickly got dressed. You gathered some clothes and some important things, stuffing everything in your leather duffle bag. This was your last resort, but you have no choice but to drive down this path.

Slamming your bedroom door open to get out of your own hell, your brows furrowed at the sight of three bodyguards blocking your way. They didn't utter a single word.

When you ignored them and tried to push your way out, they stood like steel, holding out their arms to stop you from leaving.

"Get your hands off me!" you shouted.

But they didn't listen.

"Hands off," Taehyung ordered.

The men backed down then you went on your way only for Taehyung to block you.

"Don't touch me," you spat under your breath. Taehyung sighed, "Your father won't allow you to leave."

Snapping, you told him, "I can leave anytime I want."

He wet his lips before looking at you sincerely, "I'll help you."

You didn't believe him. For all you know, he's into this thing witnessing how he just stayed silent while you were arguing your way out earlier.

However, four more men filed in your hallway.

"Y/n's leaving with me, there's no need to stop her." Taehyung said out loud, still holding your gaze.

They obediently cleared a path for you. Taehyung walked off first with you and your leather duffle bag in tow.

He did not throw you a glance to see whether you are complying or not. He walked straight out of the mansion then you saw a Benz parked right in the driveway. He opened the door for you to get in.

You watched him walk to the driver side, still contemplating whether you should go with him. Not that you have much of a choice as the guards were watching your every move. They're all held by the main door. You couldn't remember the last time when you saw this much of security. It's a sudden change in the mansion. It's affirmative they're from the Kims.

After both of you were settled in, Taehyung silently drove off, smoothly passing through the gate.

Down the winding hill, he asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"You can drop me off anywhere. I can handle myself," you coldly said, eyes planted on the road ahead. Taehyung didn't respond and continued to drive.

Several minutes after, you saw a bus stop. "That bus stop will do," you told him.

There's a good chance that he won't truly be of help to your escape. You know that, but still you tried.

And you were right. He drove past the stop you pointed and sped up the highway.

You turned to him, scowling, your faint hope was put in vain though you did not expect any better from him.

"There's a cabin out of the city. You can stay there," he muttered, not minding the dislike shown on your face.

He made some calls after a while. Something about getting a place ready for use. From the conversation, you made out that the place he offered belongs to his family.

A lot of things were running in your mind but then you realized that there's no use to be torn between wanting to compromise with your parents versus running away from it all. You turned to Taehyung when he pulled off. He set the car into a park by the side of the road with fields after your sight. You failed to realize that you were out of the city or maybe he's just a fast driver.

"Y/n," Taehyung started.

"We can have divorce after your father's term," he said.

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Five years is a long time, Taehyung. Forgive me but I'm really curious as to what you will get out of this. What did he promise you?"

"Merger of few companies, an exclusive contract in my tech company, your hand," he told you with full honesty. It's flattering that you are part of a negotiation which involves millions of dollars and maybe displacement of hundreds if not thousands of employees. Not.

"Five years is not a long time, Y/n. Think of it as getting another degree in college," he followed through.

"I accomplished three degrees in five years. Another degree won't take that long," you retorted.

Then you asked, out of curiosity, "And what will happen to the merger after we divorce?"

"I'll give you your shares, enough to have controlling interest. If you want more, we can negotiate that."

You laughed at the insanity, "You think that's easy? You believe our parents will allow that? And having a divorce is a disgrace, Taehyung. Once we get into this, there's no turning back. You know that." Because that's how it works in your world. And you hated it.

He smirked at you, then smugly said, "You underestimate me too much, Y/n. I'm not pliant to my parents' commands."

Good for him.

God, his arrogance is starting to get into my nerves, you thought.

"And if you want, let's not get divorced at all. I'll be that generous to allow you to keep your honor."

"Hah!" you let out in disbelief. Is the air different in the States for it to send his head in such disarray? Your jaw twitched in irritation.

"You see, Taehyung-" your speech was cut off when he started driving back to the road. "Hey!" you shouted, offended at his rudeness. He glanced at you and said, "It's not safe. I just had to talk down your wild thoughts a bit before you jump off the car out of desperation. You may continue. As you were saying?"

If looks could kill, this car already spun off the road.

"Go on," he egged on. You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn't see.

"I'm not getting anything out of this. Do you think I care about the money?" you calmly said, getting into your corporate demeanor as you see that this is more of a professional relationship for him.

"Aren't you a businesswoman, Y/n?" he retaliated.

With your head held high, you replied smugly, "I don't chase money, Taehyung. I make money chase me."

"And I don't give a damn about power. I highly value respect," you added.

Your head snapped at him when you heard him scoff. He was shaking his head in amusement, but you took it as a sign of ridicule.

"I understand, but being with me will not only solidify your power, Y/n. You can have everything you want. Money will chase you and respect will be given accordingly if we do this right," he simply said.

[myglogic]

Priceless | Bang Chan | 01

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x female reader

Genre: Crime, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Short summary: Y/N is a journalist who dreams of writing a frontpage article at the Seoul Times. She gets the chance to attend the Bang Charity Gala through her work where she plans exposing Kevin Bang, father of Chan and one of the richest men in Seoul. How is she planning to do that? The Gala is a masquarade ball where no one will recognize her. Y/N just wants justice for herself and everyone Kevin Bang hurt.

DISCLAIMER: Everything in this fanfic is fiction - that includes Chan’s fictional father who of course does not represent Chan’s real father! ♥

The event was full of people. Full of filthy rich people, you might add. It was the event of the year for Seoul’s richest and most famous people. The Bang Gala. What is the Bang Gala, you might ask? It was a charity gala where tons of money was gathered for a good cause every year. The cause is always kept a secret until the gala. Last year the money went to an organization that helps orphans who didn’t get adopted to adjust to society. Sounds like a beautiful event, right? In one year, the money went to survivors of natural catastrophes, another year it went to the homeless. Each year millions of dollars were donated. You couldn’t even imagine how big the sums must be.

Bullshit. That was what you thought. Because the people behind this charity gala were the Bang family. Kevin Bang, the owner of Seoul’s biggest real estate agency, no, you could even say the owner of South Korea’s biggest real estate agency hosted the gala. In the media, he was known for being a generous businessman, always leaving huge tips at the restaurants he was eating at. He was not only known for being generous, but also being down to earth too.

All of it was an act. Because you knew who the real Kevin Bang was. You knew how the real, evil, Kevin Bang was like and how he treated the people around him too. He was the reason why your father lost everything.

You were just a kid when all of that happened. You didn’t like to dwell on the past but you were a girl who hated unfair treatment. The past was the past but it wasn’t easy to forget. In the past two years you have been working for a pretty big newspaper – the Seoul Times. Okay, working would be an overstatement. You were basically there to proofread the articles written by the real authors and bring coffee. But you were still happy to be there because it was a start. You studied journalism but had no experience yet so it was even a miracle that you got a job at such a renowned company. Sometimes you did write small articles but mostly it was about boring stuff, for example, how the private school next door opened their new library which was – what a coincidence – sponsored by none other than Kevin Bang.

Your parents were proud of you because you worked your ass off at university for this degree. It was very underwhelming to get such an underpaid job, but you had to work hard to become the head editor one day. Right now, you worked at the “celebrity” department, where they basically gathered all kind of news about any kind of celebrity. Like for example how BTS got another win for their latest album. It wasn’t what you envisioned. Sometimes you switched departments too and just work wherever you were needed. That is why you needed an incredible story to write, a story that you have discovered. You didn’t only write articles but sometimes you had to investigate too, like doing interviews outside the office if the writer himself was too lazy to do it. But this story was your personal story. No help from Seoul Times or any other editor. You knew that this story, your story, would secure you a job on the top. That story was exposing Kevin Bang.

Exposing the real Kevin Bang. Not the beloved charitable, kind person that everyone looked up to, but the asshole, getting-anything-he-wants Kevin Bang. Why was your hatred for him so deep when everyone seemed to love that guy? The answer was simple. If something didn’t fit into Mr. Bang’s plans then he just bought everything with his money and influence. He was one of the reasons why an orphanage was demolished because he wanted to free some space for his clients, so he built a 5-star hotel on that area. According to your research he made some hefty payments to make sure that this does not reach the media. It hurt you a lot because you volunteered a lot at that specific orphanage. The kids there were not prepared to leave at all. It was a shitty move of him and you hated him more for that.

But that was just one of his many wrongdoings. You hated reading anything about that guy and his family.

♥.

Chaos. The office was very chaotic because of the on-going charity gala. A lot of newspapers used the gala to get interviews with big names, because anyone who had influence attended that gala. But this year’s theme was not optimal to get a lot of interviews: Masquerade. Everyone had to wear masks so no one knew who you were.

It was interesting since all of the people there already had two faces. The theme made a lot of interviewers back out because if you can’t see the celebrity, interviewing them would be difficult.

You were sitting at your desk, trying to find more dirt on the Bang family when you heard a stack of papers landing next to you, making you flinch a little. It was your supervisor, Hana, who looked at you, annoyed. “Proofread these, okay?”, she sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Okay.”, you said, not wanting to annoy her more.

“I need these by tomorrow by the way.”, she added arrogantly.

“Excuse me, what?!”, you said, standing up in shock. “I can’t even get half of those done in a day!”

She stared you down with an angry expression. “Okay, then why don’t you go and try to interview some masked celebrities at that stupid gala, huh? Our top interviewers don’t want to go because they think it’s a waste of their time!”

You sighed. “Just because you have problems, doesn’t mean that you can put all the workload onto me.”

“I am sick of you complaining, Y/N. This gala is stressing me enough already. It’s not like anything happens at these galas anyway, I don’t even know why we have to send so many employees there. The big boss is crazy. Taejoon doesn’t want to go and we have to send someone from our department.”, Hana said angrily, clearly angry at Taejoon who usually does the interviews for your department.

Then an idea popped into your mind. “Wait… So technically if Taejoon goes to that gala thing, doesn’t he get a free pass?”

“Yeah, we cannot identify the celebs there anyway. But we still have to send ten of our people so that they can write down how much money was donated, where the money goes to, blah blah. Also, if anyone decides to show up without a mask, interview them. Stuff like that.”

This was the idea! You gathered information on Kevin Bang for a while now and if you could find a way to get in there, you might be able to turn everyone against him. You just needed to get the attention of the guests and the media. You knew that you wouldn’t get the recognition you wanted but it would be a start to dig the dirt on him.

Maybe, if you tell the boss that it was you who exposed him, he will let you write the big front-page article about him. Nobody knew more shit about Kevin Bang than you.

“You know, if you let someone else proofread these articles, I would go to that gala instead of Taejoon.”, you offered her.

She gave you a tempting look. “You never went, right? Of course, you would be excited to enter such an exclusive event. But please don’t fall asleep, it gets boring pretty quickly.”, Hana warned you. “Also, you can’t wear a mask as someone from the media. You need to stay in the background, especially since you are still a rookie. Got it?”

Yeah, of course, it was because it was an exclusive event. It’s not like you had a huge ass plan to destroy Kevin Bang or something. “Yeah, got it. Can I go?”, you asked innocently.

She sighed. “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid!”

“I won’t!”

‘At least not when you are around.’, you thought.

Now that you got your free pass to the Bang charity gala, you needed to make up a plan. A really good one. Because your operation was big and you couldn’t risk making any mistakes. The gala was in two days and you quickly needed to figure out what to do and how to do it.

♥.

With all the information you had on Kevin Bang, you knew you had to somehow get the attention of the audience that would attend the gala. Through some insider information you found out that there will be a huge projector. It’s projecting at the main stage. So, you somehow needed to get to the tech room to show the audience your evidence.

You found out that a friend of yours, Felix, will be working there on the night of the gala as a waiter for drinks. You were sure that he would be a huge help and approached him but at first, he thought you were crazy. You were basically trying to ruin a charity event. But after explaining why you wanted to do it, he agreed to help you with your plan. There was a designated area for the press, so you needed to get inside and change first to mix with the actual guests.

This was your plan:

1.    Get inside the actual building as someone from the press

2.    Bring a sexy dress and a mask

3.    With the help of Felix get in the employee area to change

4.    Act as if you’re a guest and talk negatively about Kevin Bang

5.    Get in the computer room to “hack” the projector

6.    Expose Kevin Bang

Sometimes you felt like one of those drama Youtube channels. But this was more than just telling everyone about a horrible person. You did this for your family, especially for your dad. Your family was ruined because of him. Your parents worked their hardest just so you could go to university. Of course, you also did this to write an article about him and get a better position at work. But there was more of a personal agenda behind this.

After a long day of work, you finally came home, clearly exhausted. The gala was tomorrow and you were really nervous about everything. Your roommate Jisung walked out of the kitchen and looked at you. Jisung and you met on your first day of university and became friends quickly. He was your closest friend and you knew you could trust him with your life. “Hey, I got a huge ass dress delivery for you today? What are you going to do with such a fancy dress?”, he asked you curiously.

You smiled at him, determined. “I will attend the Bang charity gala tomorrow.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “What? For real? Because of your job or what?”

You smirked. “Just wait. After tomorrow, I will finally get the recognition I deserve. And yeah, I will get in thanks to my job.”

Jisung looked at you suspiciously as he sat down with a bowl of chips in front of you. “You're planning something, aren’t you?”

You put on a confident smile as you laid down on the couch. “Yeah. Look, I will tell you everything after the gala. It’s a huge thing so…”

“Don’t get arrested or something, dude.”, Jisung sighed. “Well, since you won’t tell me now, why don’t we watch a movie on Netflix then?”

“Sure.”

♥.

The day of the gala arrived quickly and you found yourself with a camera hanging onto your neck in front of the huge ass gala building. You gave your dress to Felix before so he could hide it in the employee changing rooms. Your hands were sweaty as you took some pictures.

“So, we will be at different locations throughout the building. Try to get some good pictures and if you recognize someone, try to get an interview, okay?”, one of the interviewers told the Seoul Times journalists.

As you went to your designated areas you looked around for Felix to get out of here. At the same time, you admired the huge building with a rich history. Literally, rich. The guests were coming in slowly and everyone looked glamorous and fancy. Their dresses probably cost more than you earn in a month. The location was beautifully decorated, the main stage was huge. While looking around you saw the tech people going upstairs. The tech room must have been upstairs. You couldn’t find a good floor plan on the internet and security was high alert. There had to be a way to get up there. Dressing up as someone from the tech crew would be too obvious but no one would suspect a masked woman in a dress. Especially since you were masked, you were even safer.

As everyone was seated Kevin Bang entered the main stage shortly after. His crisp suit looked expensive, his hair was slicked back. His face was half covered by a black mask. Behind him was his wife, probably number 6 by now, and his son Chan. They also wore masks that didn’t do a good job with covering their faces. Your gaze wandered more towards to his son than Kevin himself. He looked handsome, you couldn’t deny that, with his black hair and dark blue, perfectly sitting suit. You also noticed that he didn’t look too excited to stand there. Interesting.

“Welcome to the annual Bang charity gala! I am happy to see so many faces – well, technically I can’t see you but I appreciate every single one of you!”, Kevin said enthusiastically which earned him hearty laughs from the audience. You rolled your eyes. “You for sure have been wondering where the money goes to this year! This year, we are donating the money of this beautiful gala to a brand-new hospital! With the money you donate every year we can build a completely new hospital where everyone can be treated! The best thing about the hospital?”, he started and showed a picture of the future hospital that was projected behind him. “We will get the best doctors! Anything for our residents of Seoul!”

The crowd cheered and clapped politely. The rich were delighted. “Let’s see how much money we can gather tonight!”

You scoffed at his stupid smirk. “What a freaking liar, the money doesn’t even arrive there.”, you whispered angrily.

The event kicked off, classical music was playing in the background. Since the theme was “masquerade” the guests started waltzing in pairs. It did look very appealing but it felt like this wasn’t your world. In fact, this was not your world. You sometimes wished it was. Not worrying about anything, especially money. You knew you could never fit in.

You then got up looking around. Security was everywhere. Then you spotted Felix who walked up to you. “Hey, sorry, I’m late. These rich people never stop drinking.”, he sighed, clearly exhausted as he pushed his blonde hair back.

“It’s fine the event just started. How can I get out of here without security noticing?”, you asked him, feeling the fear inside you coming up.

“Just walk next to me. As long as you don’t act suspiciously nothing will happen.”, he assured you and walked you to the employee changing rooms. You noticed a few glances from some security guards but nobody stopped you.

As you were getting dressed, Felix spoke up. He was hiding behind some lockers so you could dress in peace. “But Y/N… what if you get caught? How do you plan on getting out of here after doing that stunt?”

You sighed, “I need to do everything step by step, Felix. First, I need to get to the tech room and make sure that everyone out there can here hear me. Then I will decide what to do. But I won’t get caught.”, you told Felix while putting on your red dress that had lace details on the top part. It wasn’t tight but still looked really nice. It was a rather flowy dress and you could breathe in that dress. It looked expensive enough for the elite of Seoul. Good thing that you can rent dresses. You then put on some red lipstick and put your mask on that covered nearly your entire face except for your lips. You were unrecognizable, especially since you looked like a zombie normally.

As you turned the corner to meet Felix his eyes widened for a moment. “Wow, you look nice! I bet you will fit in without any problems!”

You smiled at him and then squeezed his cheek. “Aww! Thank you, Felix. I’m really nervous… but I have to do this.”

He looked at you with a worried expression, “Please, be careful, alright?”

You nodded and quietly exited the dressing room. Some people sat at their assigned seats, others were talking about the event. The music was loud but the atmosphere was alright. For now.

You decided to join a group who were talking. They were two women who were gushing about how extravagant this gala was. They were wearing expensive designer dresses.

“I love the gold details in the decoration.”, one of the women, the one who wore a black mask, said.

“I wish they would serve some more seafood. The buffet is horrible.”, the other one said, sighing. Wow.

“But no matter what Mr. Bang does, his galas are still the best!”, black mask spoke up again.

“I don’t get why everyone likes him so much…”, you spoke up, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter that was walking by.

The women looked at you, a look of confusion in their eyes. “Why would you say that? Everyone loves him.”, black mask said, defending the man.

You sighed. “I heard that he's a real asshole in reality. Ever heard of when he bulldozed an orphanage for his new hotel?”, you told them.

They gasped in shock. “He would never do something like that, would he?”

“Well he paid the media so word couldn’t get out.”, you told them.

Then they started discussing if this was real or not. That was what you did for the first hour. While there was some show on the stage, you trash talked Kevin Bang. While some people didn’t even listen to you, others were saying that they had assumptions about him. Kevin Bang was a smart man. He wouldn’t show his real face to anyone.

As you were looking around the room, you felt something or rather someone staring at you. Now that you think of it, you felt that even earlier. Then you saw that in fact someone was staring at you. That suit and mask… He looked really familiar. He walked up to you and held out his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?”

You were surprised and didn’t know what to do. “Uh, I’m not really a dancer.”

“Just follow my lead, you will be fine.”, his butter smooth voice assured you. Damn it.

You then took his hand and followed him to the dance floor. He put one hand on your waist and his other hand held yours. You wondered why he asked you out of all people. You carefully followed his steps, trying not to embarrass yourself.

“So, what’s your deal? Who are you?”, he grumbled, his eyes dark.

“This is a masquerade, isn’t it? Why would you ask me that?”, you told him, slightly surprised by his sudden change of attitude. What was he trying to do?

“I heard you talk shit about my father. What the hell are you even doing here if you hate him that much, huh?”

Your eyes widened. Of course, he was Kevin Bang’s son! You recognized him from earlier. “Why do you act like everyone in this room loves him? As if I am the only person who dislikes him.”

He tightly squeezed your hand and waist to symbolize his seriousness. “Oh, really? You don’t know him. He is a businessman, sometimes he has to make sacrifices like relocating an orphanage.”

So, he was listening to you. Interesting. “You call that relocating? You don’t know shit.”, you said in an annoyed tone.

“And you know that better than his own son?”

It was your turn to give him a tight squeeze on his shoulder. “Yeah, I actually have my sources.”

You were dancing in circles and his gaze bore into yours. You would find it cute that he tried to defend his father if he wasn’t Kevin’s son. “I will find out who the hell you are. I bet you are one of the Lee’s. You guys are always jealous of us.”

You sighed. “I am so jealous of you and your life. Oh, fuck off. You know, I don’t have to like you or your father. And here I thought I would dance with a gentleman.”, you said, trying to sound disinterested.

The music finally came to an end and you looked at the man in front of you. “It was not nice to dance with you. Let’s not do that again.”, you said and turned your back, walking away from him.

“Wait! Who the hell are you?”, Chan shouted, gaining a few looks from the crowd. But before he could follow you, you were lost in the crowd.

You tried to go through busy crowds and then tried to find a way to go to the computer/tech room. You decided that it would be best if you pretended to search for a bathroom or something, so you sneaked upstairs without anyone noticing you for now.

It was time. Time to get revenge. Time to show the world who the real Kevin Bang was. Time to shine.

A/N: Hello guys, this is my first (consistent) series on this blog! This is also the first time I am writing for Chan and I hope I do him justice. Buckle up because this story has a lot of twists and turns. I appreciate every form of feedback and maybe even theories! What do you think will happen next? Thanks for reading! ♥

[megatraven]

Great and Precious Things

A/N: The title is taken from the quote, “All great and precious things are lonely,” by John Steinbeck. Because I forgot to think of a title while I wrote this :) Character(s): EAA FMC, EAA MMC, Arin Pairing(s): N/A Summary: A look into what it might have been like for FMC following the casting of the memory spell, and how she gave up much more than just her knowledge of magic.

AO3

___

It doesn’t happen the moment the words leave her mouth, as most spells tend to. It’s more delicate than that, and it takes time to wrap around her heart and mind, to seal away a lifetime of memories. She has a few days. A week at most.

“How are you feeling?” Arin asks her, concern bleeding through their voice, their furrowed brow making her smile, albeit weakly.

“I’m just tired. Took a lot more out of me than opening a door, that’s for sure.” She turns to her brother. “How about you?”

“I... Yeah, I’m fine. I will be.”

Reaching out, she squeezes his shoulder, and it’s enough to ground them both and scrape together the energy they need to ask the labyrinth for a way home.

They part ways with Arin, promising to see them tomorrow for an update. It’s a quiet, mournful walk back to their house, but when they finally reach the basement, they don’t quite remember why they were down there in the first place.

___

“Does it feel strange?”

Arin is sitting across from her, their leg bouncing a little nervously, an old tic that only shows up when they’re really anxious over something. She reaches across and drops her hand down on their knee, keeping them still.

She wants to reassure them, but there’s no easy way to tell someone that you’re leaving them behind. There’s no easy way to let them know that you’re forgetting promises that you said you would keep, and memories that you’ve laughed or cried over together for years.

But she does her best.

“It’s... like waking up from a dream. You want to tell people about it, but when you reach for the story... it’s slipped through your fingers.” She pauses, and takes her hand away from their leg, leaning back into her own seat. There’s not much else to say.

Silence stretches between them, almost suffocating in how heavy it is, before Arin breaks it.

“Does it... Does it hurt?” they whisper, and her heart aches for it.

At least she can tell them the truth here, provide some small comfort.

“Not at all.”

___

She’s making herself a fresh pot of coffee when her brother comes into the kitchen. She doesn’t look up, eyes glued to the list of classes available next semester as she decides which ones she wants to take.

He sits down at the counter, and she can practically feel the weight of his stare on her, though she doesn’t look back.

She’s got to figure out her classes- she remembers feeling a little bored this past semester, like there wasn’t enough to fill her time.

When her coffee fills the pot, she pours herself a steaming mug, and finally looks over at her brother, finding him to be a little apprehensive.

With a sigh, she sets her mug back down and turns to face him fully.

“Alright. No being all mopey, tell me what’s up.”

She’s prepared for just about anything- but what he says makes her thankful she’d already set her coffee down.

“I’m going to law school.”

For a moment, all she can do is stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. She knows exactly what that means- god, she’d seen the letters when she checked the mail, but she never thought...

“You can’t be serious,” she says, disbelieving and maybe a little angry. Maybe a little hurt, too. He couldn’t leave, they had-

They had...

Something!

She was too angry to recall what obligation it was, but he was supposed to stay! He was supposed to stay with her.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I just can’t get that argument with dad out of my head. This might be my only chance to go, and I-” he swallows, looking away- “I’m going to take it. I don’t want to be stuck here looking after the lighthouse all my life.”

“You can’t leave,” she says, a little desperate. “Arin and I need you.”

She isn’t sure why she says Arin’s name- they’re doing just fine in their work, they know what direction they’re going in. But it feels right, like it needs to be said. Like it should always be the three of them, together.

Unfortunately, it does nothing to sway her brother.

“I have to. I already accepted, I’m getting a full-ride scholarship... it’s happening, whether you want it to or not.” He gets up, and starts to leave, pausing only to say one more thing. “I hope you’ll respect my decision.”

And then he’s gone, a preview of what’s the come.

Her coffee is cold by the time she wills herself to pick it up again.

___

“I’m sorry,” she says, out of the blue.

She’s just finished submitting her classes for the next semester, filling her schedule to the brim. If her brother’s not going to be there, then she really needed something to occupy herself with. Not to mention, she wants to learn a better way to keep the lighthouse going, since it’ll be just her.

Her brother looks up from his phone, cheeks a little flush.

“Huh?”

“For acting the way I did when you told me about law school. I want you to be happy...” She glances down at his phone and gives him a teasing smile when she meets his eyes again. “So I support you. You should go.”

“Really? I knew you’d come around!” His smile grows, and he rushes around the table to squeeze her in a tight hug, making her laugh. “What changed your mind?”

She opens her mouth to answer, but she closes it again.

Why did she change her mind? Why was she so against him leaving? She remembers feeling angry, but why? It wasn’t like her to hold him- or anyone, for that matter- back just because of her feelings. It feels like she shouldn’t have had to change her mind at all.

Shaking her head lightly, she shrugs.

“I guess I just realized that... well, you know what you want to do with your life. I don’t want to get in the way of you doing it.” 

“Thank you. It means a lot, you know.”

She can hear the smile in his voice, and has to blink away tears before she pulls back and grins at him.

“Of course. If you ever need anything...” She steps back, and gestures around them, at the house that they grew up in. “You know where to find me.”

___

He leaves.

Her parents are gone, on vacation in California.

The house feels more empty than it ever has, and it breaks her heart a little. Some part of her knows it wasn’t meant to be that way, but there’s nothing to be done about it, now.

She takes out her phone and pulls up Arin’s number.

At least she still has them.

___

She sits at one of the tables outside, just beyond the line of food trucks. It’s a nice day, and all the food smells so good. She’d love to grab a bite to eat, but she waits, checking her phone for any response.

Nothing.

“They said they’d come,” she murmurs, looking out at all the people passing by. No bright red hair sticks out to her, no friendly face.

Sighing, she shoots them another message- she knows they get busy, so maybe they just forgot?

A few minutes go by with no response, and she’s about ready to grab something and go when they finally arrive, looking harried.

“Arin! I was wondering-”

“I’m sorry,” they interrupt, their voice sounding rough. There’s something sad in their gaze that she can’t quite place, and they look more exhausted than usual. “I thought I’d be able to meet you today, but I have a meeting that moved up, it’s in a couple of minutes. Can we reschedule?”

Her heart sinks, but she pulls out her best smile anyways.

“Of course! I’ll text you later!”

And then they’re off like a bullet, leaving her behind, too.

Leaning back in her chair, she decides maybe it would be better to stay out for awhile longer. The sun is shining, the food smells great, and there’s no reason to waste it all by sulking at home.

Eventually, she decides on getting an ice cream before she settles back into her seat, watching all the people coming and going. A silly sort of idea strikes her, and she smiles a bit.

“Maybe I can make it into a little game...”

___

Rain check.

Cancelled.

Busy.

Reschedule.

Try again at a better time.

Maybe soon.

The excuses wear away at her, until she stops texting Arin altogether.

Most of her messages go unanswered, and she can barely even catch their eye on campus anymore. She wonders if it’s something she did. Maybe they were just growing apart. Maybe she’d finally become too much for them to handle.

It didn’t really matter either way. She couldn’t keep their friendship alive on her own, and they clearly didn’t see it as important right then. If they weren’t going to put in the effort, that was fine.

And if they needed space... she could give it to them.

No problem.

She swipes their contact away, looking for her brother’s name. Her finger hovers over the call button for a long moment before she sets her phone down.

He was probably busy studying. Or making out with his boyfriend. The idea of that makes her snort.

She didn’t want to bother him, anyway. He’d call her in a couple of days.

Slumping in her seat, she looks around her, looking for something to get her mind off it all. Her eyes land on a pile of books she’d brought home earlier, mostly on the subjects of lighthouse maintenance, computer programming, and engineering.

Sitting back up, she reaches over and grabs one.

“Well... no time like the present, right?”

___

The lighthouse runs on its own, hardly needing anything more than a weekly check-up to make sure things are running smoothly.

She’s proud of her work- it’d taken a good year to work out all the kinks of her new system, but it was so worth it. It kept her occupied, gave her something to focus on.

Only, now that it's finished...

She doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

Her brother is way too busy with school to talk often, Arin is still strangely distant and ridiculously busy, and even the lighthouse doesn’t really need her anymore.

Somehow, she finds herself feeling more lonely than ever.

But that’s okay, she thinks.

It’s normal.