#jesse cash fic

[circle-with-me]

Legs - Jesse Cash x Reader

Pairing: Jesse Cash x Reader

Content Warning/Tags: 18+ MDNI! vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mild possessiveness, car sex, mentions of mental illness and self-destructive behavior, hurt/comfort, and some fluff at the end.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @cncohshit @foliosriot @sacredthefran

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Author's Note: Not too long ago, @cncohshit and I were discussing how few fics there are about sweet Jesse. So, I decided I'd write up a little something. This is loosely based on Ghost Atlas' song Legs. Thank you as always to @deathblacksmoke for being my wonderful beta reader <3

dividers by @cafekitsune

The rain pours outside as you sit in your car. Heavy droplets pelt the roof of the vehicle. Even with your headlights on you couldn’t see more than two feet in front of you. The sound of the rain was so loud you could barely make out the song playing on the radio.

The World At Large - Modest Mouse, the screen read. Fitting, you think. 

You check your phone for the fourth, maybe fifth time in as many minutes. The text message you sent had been read but went unanswered. There were still no lights on in the house except for the glow of the red LED’s in his room. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d finally had enough.

It’s not like you could blame him.

Almost as if he read your mind, he appears in the headlights dashing towards your car. Quickly unlocking the door you let him in. He runs a hand through his damp mess of curls trying to catch his breath. He looks over at you and you forget how to breathe for a moment, his wide brown eyes staring into yours. 

“Hi, Jesse.” You say meekly. 

“You could have come inside, Y/N.” He states, giving you a quick once over. 

You shake your head, gently pushing his hand away when it comes up to examine your face. 

“It’s not a good idea, Jesse.”

Your legs twitch with need and you run your hands on top of your thighs to relax them. You can feel his gaze burning into your skin. It’s not a good idea to go inside. All of your self-restraint will go out of the window the second you step inside his home and you’re not here for that. 

You need him, but not in the way you normally do. Jesse is the only person you feel safe with. He’s the only person who can make you feel anything outside of sex. You’re a broken person. Full of spite and hatred for the world and you take it out on others. You use people to your benefit and abandon them without explanation. 

Unfortunately, Jesse has been a victim of your lies and self-destructive behavior more times than you care to admit. Every time he starts to get attached you panic and leave. For some reason, he always gives you another chance when you come crawling back to him.

Over the time you’ve known each other, you’ve come to realize that Jesse is in love with you. He has to be. No sane person would put up with your bullshit the way he does. But still, you can see the light in his eyes fading every time you leave. Even when you come back there’s an air of tension between the two of you, almost as if he’s dying to ask the question of “How long will you stay this time?”

“What have they done now, darling?” Jesse asks quietly, taking your hand in his. You lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes, knowing that if you looked at him the floodgates would open. 

He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and squeezes it gently. It’s not a demand but a reminder that he’s there, ready and willing to listen. The gesture is so remarkably kind but you know you don’t deserve it. You feel your chest tighten and your eyes well up with tears.

“Nothing I didn't have coming to me.” You decide to leave it at that. 

You watch as Jesse studies you for a minute. It’s obvious there are a million things he wants to say but he chooses not to due to the fragility of the situation.  

“Why don’t you come inside? We’ll get you warm and dry. I can fix you something to eat.” He pauses. “Have you eaten today?” 

You shake your head. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t sure the last time you had a decent meal. Your brain and body have been running at 90 mph and food has been the last thing on your mind.

Jesse hums a sound of disapproval and pats your thigh. The entirety of your body tenses at his touch and he pulls his hand away immediately afraid he has crossed a line. The two of you stare at each other for a long time unsure of what to say before you abandon what restraint you have left and grab his hand. 

You place it on your inner thigh, much higher than it was previously. Jesse audibly gulps and squeezes the flesh experimentally. It’s endearing to you how he always gets nervous like it’s your first time together. Leaning forward, you grab his face to kiss him, parting his lips with your tongue. 

He sighs into your mouth, gathering the courage to push his hand under your dress. His index finger dips into the top of your thigh high stockings, running along the lace edge. He groans and shoves his tongue in your mouth, his free hand gripping the back of your head. 

“You know how much I love these, darling.” Jesse murmurs, kissing along your jaw. He snaps the band of the tights against your skin and goosebumps pop up, making you shiver. You feel him smile against your neck before grazing his teeth against the skin.

Jesse places his hand on your pussy, massaging you through your already damp panties. You arch into his touch and he wraps his arm around your waist. An unspoken request is made when he presses his arm into your back, guiding you towards him. 

Taking the hint, you crawl over the center console and he pulls you into his lap. His grip is bruising as he drags your hips against his hardened erection. The coarse denim of his jeans provides a satisfying friction that sends electricity through your body.

Jesse reaches down to lower the car seat a little so he can lean back. You follow him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He pushes his hands up your dress, his calloused hands softly scratching your back. You hum at his soothing touch. He moves to unhook your bra but you feel his hands shake a little. 

“Are you okay?” You speak, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods but doesn’t make eye contact; the nervousness from earlier returning twice over. After you brush your fingers across his forehead he finally looks at you. 

“You’re breathtaking, Y/N.” Jesse speaks so softly the rain pounding on the roof of the car nearly drowns him out. All you can focus on are his lips as they part; the way his tongue dances behind them. When he asks you to remove your dress, you’re achingly willing. 

Jesse watches you undress before him, completely entranced by your body. Regardless of how often he’s seen your form, he pores over you as if you were the finest sculpture he has ever laid eyes on. He skims his hands across the expanse of your thighs and upwards, twisting the fabric of your panties around his fingers. 

He places gentle kisses to your collarbones, your neck, the junction between your breasts. Jesse Cash is not a man that can be rushed, and you wouldn’t dare try to anyway. Each press of his soft lips against your skin heals a part of you that has been burning alive inside of you for ages. 

He leans you back against the dash, one hand supporting your back and the other coming to your chest. Running his hand down the length of your torso, he slips his fingers through the waistband of your panties. A shuddered breath escapes him and he curses when he dips a finger inside of you, feeling how soaked you are. 

“Tell me, honey.” He coos, not wasting any time finding the sweet spongy spot inside of you. “Do the others make you this wet or is it just me?” 

The sudden flash of possessiveness in Jesse’s eyes catches you off guard. You squirm under his gaze, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’re wildly turned on by it.

“Only you.” You moan, grabbing onto his thigh for support. Jesse grins and adds another finger. You dig your nails into the denim of his jeans as he picks up the pace, your vision already beginning to go white. The filthy wet sounds made as he pleasures you can be heard even over the rain. 

Just as you feel yourself reaching your peak, he halts his movements, eliciting a pitiful whimper from you. He removes his fingers completely, dragging it up your slit collecting more of your juices. 

“Open up.”

Your mouth falls open so quickly it makes Jesse chuckle. He places his fingers on your tongue and you close your lips around it sucking and savoring the flavor of your own arousal. 

Jesse watches you intently; his mouth slack-jawed and eyes trained on your mouth. When you moan around his fingers, he moans back bucking his hips slightly. You feel his cock pressing into your bare pussy and you’re scrambling for his belt, desperate for him.

He helps you shove his pants down, hissing when you take his leaking cock into your hand. As hurried as you were, you sigh in relief the moment he’s inside of you. You set a slow pace, dragging your pussy up his length until you feel just the tip and sinking back down again. Jesse lays back against the car seat, his nails digging crescent shapes into your thighs.

You move like I want to. 

To see, like your eyes do.

The whispered vocals on the hauntingly beautiful track make the moment even more intimate. You pick up the pace a little to match the tempo of the song, your movements causing Jesse to arch his back, moaning loudly. He observes as you move on top of him, chest heaving from breathing so hard. Somehow, his brown eyes grow even darker 

Jesse wraps his hand around the back of your neck, gently but firmly pulling your mouth to his. He snakes his other arm around your waist, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. In this moment, you’re thankful for the deluge outside otherwise your cries of pleasure and pleas not to stop would get the two of you caught in an instant. 

You rake your fingernails through his scalp, tugging at the damp curls. Jesse grunts into your neck, grasping your waist tighter and thrusting into you harder. You slam your hand against the car window for extra support, a distorted hand print forming in the condensation. 

“Jesse, please don’t stop.” You whimper. He shakes his head fervently, refusing to leave the spot between your neck and shoulder that he’s claimed. 

“Never.”

Grasping onto his shirt and pulling it off of him, you reattach yourself to him immediately. Your skin is on fire but you’re desperate to be closer to him, to feel all of him. 

Tonight I feel like more. 

Chino’s voice bellows through the speakers. While the lyrics are nefarious in nature, the line resonates with you in a different way. 

It’s never been a question that you care deeply for the man underneath you. It’s not his fault you have a fear of abandonment. You’ve told yourself that’s all it was, but the truth is you have never felt good enough for him. His integrity and pure heart intimidates you. His ability to see through your lies and still love you anyway scares you to death.

Your orgasm builds with the swell of the music. You allow the pleasure to consume your entire body, the toe curling, stomach tightening, finger gripping sensation overwhelming you. 

The music becomes muffled in your ears when Jesse calls out your name. Opening your eyes, all you can see is him. Tunnel vision has never been more blissful than this. The moonlight illuminates his face and he stares at you with the same entranced look from earlier. It’s evident that you’re all he can see too.

The coil in your stomach snaps, sending shockwaves through your entire body. You grasp onto his knees tighter to keep yourself up right, bucking your hips on his cock chasing your high. He lets out a low groan, his stomach muscles growing taut and cock twitching inside of you. 

I feel like more. 

And you do. 

You feel more alive than you ever have. The numbness in your soul has vanished and there’s nothing but him and you want more. 

The euphoria that creeps up inside of you when you both orgasm at the same time is all-consuming and you hope he feels it too. One wave of pleasure after the other radiates through every muscle in your body, making you quiver relentlessly. You feel Jesse’s legs shaking underneath you, strangled groans erupting from him as he spills inside of you. 

Jesse opens your car door and grabs your hand, the two of you sprinting towards his house. By the time you make it to his front door, you’re both soaked and laughing uncontrollably. Once inside, he leads you to his room to find dry clothes. You peel off your soaked ones and hang them in the bathroom to dry. When Jesse comes in with new clothes, you take them graciously, shivering from the rain.

You sit on the counter towel drying your hair as you watch him change. He turns around, catching you staring and he smiles at you. You curl your finger at him, motioning for him to come to you. He stands between your legs, his hands resting on top of your thighs. 

Placing the towel on top of his head, you rub it vigorously against his hair to get the excess water out. When you pull the towel down and around his neck you can’t help but giggle at how frizzy his hair looks. He leans to the side to see what’s so funny, laughing when he sees himself. You plant a kiss on his cheek and he looks over at you, a soft smile on his lips. He kisses you, holding your chin softly between his fingers. There’s no urgency behind it. He’s simply savoring every second he has with you. 

“Stay tonight?” He mumbles against your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jesse.” 

He sighs contentedly, enveloping your face in his hands.  

“Tell me you mean that, Y/N.” 

This time, more than anything, you hope you do.

#jesse cash #jesse cash x reader #jesse cash fanfiction #jesse cash fanfic #jesse cash fic #fic: legs #i lied i’m posting it a little early #ghost atlas #erra

[thefallennightmare]

heres a lil headcannon request🫶🏼

how about first date with jesse cash? he seems like he would be anxious trying to make sure everything is perfect bc he already likes you a lot

Oh bet. My heart is already fluttering.

Jesse’s extremely anxious for this date. Noah’s even tried to do his breathing exercises with Jesse which only helped a bit.

He likes you a lot so he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

You honestly would have been fine with sitting at his house, eating pizza, and watching a movie. But no, Jesse wanted this first date to be one for the books.

You notice on your walk that his hands are shaking so you link your fingers together, bringing them to your lips to press kisses on his knuckles

“You don’t need to be nervous, Jesse. It’s just me.” You reminded him.

He stops walking to pull you into his chest, kissing your forehead. “That’s exactly why I’m nervous. It’s you, sweetheart.”

He takes you to your favorite restaurant then a starlight walk along the pier so you guys can watch the firework show. On the way back, you suggest stopping for ice cream, to which the shop is closed.

Jesse isn’t having that, he can see how sad you are because damnit you wanted ice cream.

“Jesse, it’s fine. I can live without ice cream for one night,” you assured him while patting his chest.

This man stops at the store to grab three different flavors of one gallons ice cream because he wants you to have options.

“So did you have a good time?” He asks when he takes you home later that night.

You nod with a huge smile. “Thank you, Jesse. Maybe for the next date we can stay in and watch a movie? Snuggled under some blankets?”

He brushes his lips against yours, tasting the sweetness of them and humming in approval.

“It’s a date sweetheart.”

#tina talks #the fallen nightmare headcannons #Jesse cash #Jesse cash headcannons #Jesse cash fic #ghost atlas #Erra

[foliosriot]

3x3 for tomato red pretty pweaaaase 🖤

One of the worst things about being in a relationship with a musician is how often they are away from home. How they can be halfway across the world playing a sold out tour while you’re struggling to sleep in a bed empty bed all by yourself. But it’s worth it in the end, you think, because when Jesse comes home, he comes home to you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#𖤐 #𖤐: asks #jesse cash fic #fern’s wip weekend games #wip weekend

[ravieisunhinged]

Honest

Jesse Cash x F!Reader

Oneshot / Imagine

Content Warning: Fluff

You met Jesse in Los Angeles. It was an accident, truly. You were only in the area to visit a close friend that lives nearby.

It happened at some retail store, which you forgot the name of. The typical story of: guy bumps into you, your things fall, and he helps pick them up, then gives you his number to stay in touch.

This was a couple years ago. Since then, you and Jesse grew closer. Although, there was something you were hiding from him. You had feelings for this man, but you were afraid of ruining what you have with him currently.

Because of this, you chose not to say anything. You tried to hide your feelings well.

You were also best friends with his roommate, Noah. In fact, you knew him before you met Jesse.

One day while you were over at their place, you were sitting on the couch with Noah, watching some anime. Something the two of you had in common.

Suddenly, he shifts his body, turning to you.

"So, I have a question." He asks.

As he was asking this, Jesse had gotten up. Little did you know, he was listening to your conversation with Noah.

"Okay...what is it?" You ask Noah.

"You have a thing for Jesse?" He asks.

"Noooo, where did you get that from?" You reply.

"Because I know you." He says.

"Fine, I give up. Yeah, I have a thing for him." You mumble.

"Why don't you tell him then?" Noah asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't want to make things awkward. Pretty much it." You say.

Noah doesn't say anything.

"Can we talk about something else now? Or continue watching this?" You ask.

"Yeah yeah, we can." He says.

A bit later, Jesse walks in and "steals" you. Which Noah was okay with.

You both go to his room, and you're leaning against a wall. Jesse stands in front of you, his hand on the wall.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Noah earlier." He tells you, smirking.

"How much did you hear, exactly?" You ask.

"Enough to know how you actually feel about me." He replies.

"Uh, I can explain-" You start to say, before he cuts you off. He presses a finger against your lips.

"Shhh, I know. You're pretty when you blush." He comments, removing his finger.

"I am not." You scoff.

"Want me to prove it?" He says, cocking an eyebrow.

"How?" You ask.

"Like this." He says, before kissing you on lips. You lean into him, putting your arms around his neck.

You both pull away, and you smile at him.

"So uh, you wanna try this? Y'know, us?" He asks.

"I'd love to." You say.

"Good. I'm going to kiss you again, by the way." He says.

"Go ahead, nothing is stopping you." You reply.

He smirks again, then kisses you on the lips once more.

#jesse cash fic #jesse cash fanfic #jesse cash fanfiction

[veronicaphoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: Talks about physical abuse, mentions of alcohol and implied intake. | Word count: 2.1k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

I barely slept that night.

It wasn’t due to my sleeping in the pullout sofa in the studio.

It was due to the haunting awareness of Lia being on the other side of the wall, lying in my bed, under my blankets, her face stained with crimson marks and fresh tears.

She had refused to eat dinner, and I hadn’t forced her. It was to be expected that she had no appetite. I didn’t eat, either. Jolly and Jesse, also caught in the somber mood of that night and seeing no one would be cooking, ordered two pizzas and devoured them alone in the kitchen.

I had brewed Lia a cup of tea, an attempt to provide more relief, and not long after she took the last sip, she had fallen asleep.

Minutes earlier she had given me her phone, asking me to turn it off and keep it away from her. Though I was tempted to return the missed call from Mitch, I followed Lia’s request and tucked her phone away.

Before night came, I had gathered essentials from my room: clean sheets, a blanket, and a pillow, while Lia, in her own quiet way, pulled clothes out of her bag and placed them on top of my dresser.

However, I had forgotten my toothbrush, so I had to go back into the room to get it from the ensuite bathroom in my room. Lia lay nestled beneath the covers on my side of the bed, sleeping with the uninjured side of her face sunk into the pillow. The comforter covered her up to her chin, and her body was but a tiny lump in the expanse of the bed.

I walked barefoot to the bathroom, and without turning on the light, grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste and made my way back to the hallway.

Just before I left, I heard Lia's voice mumbling my name. I stayed in place; in case she had woken up and needed something.

“Don't go too far...”

I wasn't sure if she mumbled it in her sleep or if she was aware that I was there. In any case, that night I was only separated from her by a wall that felt paper-thin, so I could hear her crying when she woke up several times in the middle of the night and later her footsteps when she left the room and wandered around the house to the kitchen, where she must have gone in search of more water or something to eat. 

By the time dawn broke, I had been in the kitchen for a while, with the grim face of anyone who hasn't been able to sleep a wink all night and a laden cup of coffee in one hand, and when Jolly and Jesse came out from their rooms, it was obvious that the topic was going to be Lia and what we had to do with the situation —with Mitch.

An hour later, the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom in my room told me that Lia was up and getting cleaned up.

I did my best to make her a hearty breakfast to lift her spirits, although what little I had managed to cheer her up didn't last long.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, wearing black leggings and a t-shirt, Jolly wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her in his arms, understanding pouring through him while I watched from the other side, kettle in my hand. Jesse approached her and touched her hair, and after a few more seconds in Jolly’s embrace, she let Jesse soothe her.

Despite the genuine comfort they provided, Lia’s tired eyes, tinged with exhaustion and longing, sought me out after a few moments.

I handed her a cup of green tea with lemon and motioned for her to take a seat in the living room. I followed.

As she settled onto the sofa, clutching the mug of tea, she thanked me in soft voice. Her words were delicate, mixed with a bit of lingering fear and uncertainty. But there was also a hint of relief, a sense of safety creeping in as she allowed herself to let her guard down, even if just for a bit.

In the chill of the house, time seemed to stretch to give her the breathing room she needed to heal. Here, surrounded by familiar comforts and my reassuring presence, she could finally exhale. She was wrapped up in a blanket of understanding and support, shielded from the harshness of her moments with Mitch.

As she sat there, sipping her tea and soaking in the peace of the slow morning, I couldn't help but feel that this house, not officially hers, was now her safe haven. And in her eyes, I saw a spark of belonging, a silent agreement that wherever I was, was where she truly felt at ease. It hit me right in the feels, fueling my determination to offer her comfort and strength until she found her own way back to solid ground.

Her hair, freshly washed, was falling over her shoulders and chest, veiling the bruises that marred her features. I couldn’t bear to see her retreat into herself, to feel ashamed in my presence. So, without hesitation, I repeated the gesture from the day before, lifting my hand and gently asking for permission to check on her. Instead of a nod, she lifted her chin slightly, a silent invitation for me to assess the damage.

As I moved the strands of hair aside and inspected the bruised area, a curse escaped my lips involuntarily.

I was going to kill Mitch.

“It’s getting better,” she whispered softly, her fingers tightening around the mug in her hands.

To me, it looked just as raw as it had the day before. Yes, the physical wounds would eventually heal, but what about the scars etched deep in her soul?   

“Lia,” I said, running my hand down her hair, seeking to offer what little comfort I could, “what should we do?”

It took her a deep breath before she responded with a resolve that I wasn’t expecting.  

“I’m not going to the police,” she stated, her gaze fixed on the liquid in the mug on her lap.

I frowned. I glanced towards the open kitchen where Jolly seemed poised to intervene.

“They’re not going to do anything,” she continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. “They will make me go through a bunch a bureaucratic bullshit that will only make things worse. I don’t want to see him again,” she declared. “I just wish somebody would break his teeth and crush his balls.”

“Would it count if somebody trashed his car?” Jolly interjected, catching us all off guard.

Lia turned her head towards him, her face a mix of surprise and apprehension, while Jesse and I watched in astonishment.

“What did you do?” I demanded, my voice edged with concern.  

“Not enough,” he replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his coffee as if discussing the weather.

"Dude," Jesse warned, straightening his back, shoulder tensing up. 

“Jolly?” Lia’s vice wavered, her hand trembling as she brought it to her forehead.

 “I called Steven and Matt,” he explained. “We went to his house, fucked up his car, and left a few choice messages on his door.”

“You didn’t,” she muttered, her distress evident.  

“Did anyone see you?!” Jesse exclaimed.

“Not that I ever wanted for this to happen, but it was about time that we used those fucking ski masks for something useful.”

“Jolly, why did you do that?,” Lia whispered, her words choking. “You’re going to get in trouble. You shouldn’t have—”

“We shouldn’t have?” he retorted, his gaze hardening as he looked at her disapprovingly. “After what he’s done to you? Screw that. I’m ready to kill that motherfucker if I ever see his face again. He’s not getting away with it, Lia. We don’t have to call the cops if you’re against it. They’re too busy being useless anyway. But someone has to hold him accountable. He’s not walking away unscathed, doll.”

Lia placed the mug on the coffee table and covered her eyes with the edge of her palms as she began to sob once more. The weight of it all was too much to bear, the agony of her situation crashing over her in waves.  

“Hey”, I clasped one of her wrists and pulled her towards me until she was resting against my chest. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she mumbled against my hoodie. “I don’t want anything to happen to any of you. This was my problem. I decided to be with him.”

“Lia, we’re a family,” Jolly aserted, his voice lowering just a bit. “That’s not how things work with us, and he should know it.”

She disengaged from me reluctantly, turning to face him again. Her expression revealed her displeasure at his actions, but ultimately, there was nothing she could do to change what had already been done.

She must have been coming to terms with it in the seconds that followed. Suddenly, she stood up, saying, “I need a beer.”

“Hey, no,” I interjected quickly, reaching out to grasp her wrist once more. “It’s not even 11am, Lia. Have the tea. Eat something. We’ll make you a coffee later if you want, but beer is not going to help you.”

“Nothing can help me now, can it?” Her voice dripped with defeat, her words heavy with despair.

There was such a deep sense of hopelessness in her tone that it rendered me speechless. She brushed past Jesse to retrieve a can of beer from the fridge.

“Get as angry as you want with me,” Jolly said to her, her back to him. “He’s lucky I didn’t decide to stay to rearrange his face.”

Lia ignored him and walked back to my bedroom.

Jesse, Jolly, and I exchanged glances in the kitchen. After confirming from Jolly once more that no one had seen him and Steven vandalizing Mitch’s car and graffiting his front door, I made my way after Lia.

On top of the pain she was feeling, she was left with no option but to put up with everybody knowing what had happened to her. Even though it wasn’t her fault, it was not an easy task to tell that to yourself and deal with people’s pity and judgment.

When I entered my bedroom, she was sitting crosslegged in the armchair, beer in hand, gaze fixed somewhere outside the window. She hadn’t made the bed yet, her now old and worn Gremlin plush laying among the pillows, and the clothes she wore last night lay in a heap by the bathroom door.

“I can’t see you like this,” I admitted, crossing the room to her side.  

“You’ll have to get used to it,” she replied dully.

Her defeat pierced me to the core.  

“I refuse to.”

She looked up at me, tears glistening in her eyes.  I bent down on one knee and wiped a silent tear that was falling down her rosy cheek.

“I’m not letting you drown, Lia. I don’t know what we have to do. Call a therapist, go to the police… No idea, but I refuse to let him win. I know you’re stronger than this.”

“Am I?” She whispered back, doubt clouding her expression.

Oh, no, I couldn’t let her lose faith in herself.

"I’ve known you since you were six,” I reminded her gently. “I know what you’re capable of overcoming, and you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“So this is how it’s going to be? Just because I can put up with shit, that’s all I’m going to get time and time again?”

“That’s not what I meant. We don’t know what will happen in the future, but I can see good things happening if we just fight through this.”

“I have to fight through this,” she asserted.

“No. Wrong. Your fights are my fights. I thought that was clear; that’s how it’s been since forever.”

“You don’t have to be so good to me, Noah,” she protested weakly. “Nobody asked you to take care of me.”

“Nobody did. It’s my choice.”

Finally, she relented, her shoulders sagging in resignation.  

“I’ll make an appointment with a therapist,” she conceded. “It might… help.”

“Good,” I said, patting her knee. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find another solution. There’s always a solution.”

“Help me find it?” she asked, her voice small, her eyes shining with a tinge of hope.

I nodded. I took the beer from her hand and set it aside. I rummaged through her backpack until I found what I was looking for, then returned to her side, handing her a drawing notebook and pencil case.

She looked at me with a question on her face.

“Draw something for me?”

#noah sebastian #joakim jolly karlsson #jesse cash #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x ofc

[sleepyangelkami]

hi babe <3 can you write a fic where ellie takes care of drunk reader that’s all cute and fluffy?

DRUNK ON LOVE e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 3.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - someone has just a little too much to drink on a night out under the lookout of dina woodward leaving ellie to take care of a sloppy, romantic but very drunk you.

☆ WARNINGS - not set in tlou universe, drinking, intoxication, parties, throwing up, feeling sick, crying, insecurity, dealer!ellie, mentions of drugs, sexual reference sorta, petnames, slight tiny tiny tiny mention of abuse and pedophelia (not really), use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

you didn't drink, not really. usually at parties you were sitting at ellie's hip or atop her lap, drinking sips out of the drink she had. whether it was a bottle of bear or a couple of cans. you didn't really care, not having much love for the tangy taste anyway. more often than not, you didn't leave her sight, barely drinking a couple sips.

tonight, not so much. ellie had left you in the guidance of her good friend dina woodward, your best friend. she saw your happy smiles to see her and thought nothing of it. tonight, she had deals to do, people to sell weed to. she knew you didn't mind when she did it in front of you but she didn't like to, she thought your pretty eyes didn't need to see her doing such things.

the party had been going great. ellie knew how the college raves could be, she'd sell a little more expensive than usual because she knew the innocent college students had no idea how much it normally cost. she knew it was a little unfair but she still ended up with extra cash in her pockets.

she'd made a third more than usual that night, a smirk falling on her lips as she thought of you and the much appreciated clothes she'd be surely buying you soon enough, maybe even some of that cute lingerie she liked.

tonight, you'd been dressed in a short white dress, sort of tight but loose around the bottom of the long sleeves, sort of flowy. your hair was in two half up pigtails with ribbon strewn across it.

she'd barely been able to keep her hands to herself before you guys left.

while counting the bills in her hand, she couldn't help but grin to herself. even when you weren't around, she couldn't help but think of you. it was as if you plagued her mind. no, plagued didn't seem like the right word because that would insinuate that she didn't want to think of you.

the sound of a familliar laugh pulled her from her thoughts as she whizzed around, eyes finding jesse's. "oh, hey jesse." she spoke, pocketing the cash in her back pocket. she had made money tonight, that was for sure.

"hey, ellie." glancing up and ready to tell her what his chuckles had been all about. "dude, you should let her get drunk more often, she's so fucking funny." this caused ellie's brows to furrow. let who get drunk? she wasn't in charge of dina nor did she want to be. "your girl with vodka―" he cut himself off with another laugh, wiping his face. "unstoppable, dude."

ellie's face must then do something horrid. the colour drained from her face instantly, her cheeks turning a hollow white. "what?" she questioned, worry filling her. "y/n's drunk?!"

ellie had never seen you drunk, never thought of it either. you didn't seem like the type to get drunk, especially at some little party like this. you didn't smoke nor drink and if you did it was usually for some big event, not that you'd ever touch the weed ellie sold. always mumbling things about how the weed 'smelled gross' or the whiskey she was leaving you take sips of 'tasted disgusting' you'd once compared drinking to completely burning the inside of your throat. you drinking simply isn't something she thought she'd see, let alone have to stop. she never worried about your alcohol intake seeing as you'd never been one too eager to drink more.

before she knew it, her feet were rushing down one of the narrow hallways. her converse hit the white carpet and a couple faces glanced her way, wondering why she'd been in such a rush.

everyone on campus knew ellie williams, the infamous dealer who gave the best weed for the best price. they were no stranger to her face or her body but now, as alcohol, weed and who knows what else consumed them, they could barely recognise her.

her fingers clamped down on one of the doorhandles. jesse had informed the girl that you'd been staying in one of the bedrooms, dina had brought you here knowing that the owner of the house and a couple of her friends were all playing some drinking games.

ellie cursed herself, she should have known better than to leave you under the guidance of dina woodward.

when the door opened, she expected silence, sort of surprise to see her bursting through the door. that, though was exactly not what she was met with.

the music was still very much loud inside the room, discarded cans on the ground and bottles in the air being chugged from. girls and guys were in the room, some sitting on the couch, most on the floor, some standing and drunkenly dancing. but ellie's eyes didn't care for the half naked girls or the hazy looking guys. her eyes needed to find yours.

and surely enough, there you were.

you didn't have a drink in your hand but judging by the position you were in now, laying flat on your back on the bed with your dress sort of hiked up, mumbles falling from your lips and fingers playing with the strands of your hair. you looked confused, eyes red and pupils large, you looked completely out of it. your hair was sprawled all across the bed, up in the air as you tugged on it, swirling it between your two fingers. two girls, anna and kate, ellie believed were their names, couldn't stop laughing at whatever you were confusedly mumbling. it was clear that both the girls were very much intoxicated too.

dina was the first to notice that she'd entered the room. "ellie, have you come to join us?" a smirk dancing on her lips as she swayed lightly. there was a bottle of beer pressed close to her wet lips.

"dina." ellie groaned, her eyebrows pinching together. dina looked sort of buzzing but not drunk, not nearly as much as you were, at least. "how much did you give her." perhaps you were just a lightweight or perhaps you drank more than you thought you could handle. whatever the case, you looked more drunk than anyone else in that room.

"uh, i don't know?" glancing back to your figure. "relax, ellie. it's a part, you're supposed to drink." ellie knew this, she knew there was no harm in having a little fun. but she also knew how you could get. it may be fun in the beginning but sooner or later you'd feel all floaty and icky. "she drank some before and after the games, let's see... we played truth or drink, she drank some in that. we played never have i ever, spin the bottle, oh and they have this really cool pool table so we played beer pong―"

"wait, wait." ellie cut dina off. dina looked up, thinking she was going to ask more about the pool table. "spin the bottle? as in she was kissing people too?" for a second, ellie's heart chipped, slowly tearing in half.

"no, no, no." dina was quick to put that heart back together again. "you see, the bottle kept landing on her and she kept going on about 'els' or something, flat out refused to kiss anyone." her lips were moving and her head shaking, dina's hand finding home on ellie's shoulder. "so she had to drink, you know, i think that's the most she drank in, actually―"

"els!" you were already jumping up from the bed, spotting your pretty, also concerned, girlfriend standing near the doorway. dina moved out of the way, letting you engulf your girlfriend. soon after, dina's name had been called and she was a laughing mess, stumbling over to one of the girls. "missed you."

"missed you too." ellie was quick to respond, not ignoring the way your body practically melted into her own. "had a little too much fun, did you, baby?" her fingers moving towards your chin, turning it upwards so she could look at you.

you were a smiling mess, small giggles emitting your mouth with a wide simper on your face. "dina said i could." as if you had to ask anyone permission anyway. though, if you did, you were sure that the only permission you would seek would be ellie's. you sort of just assumed ellie had told dina this.

ellie gave you a pointed look. "dina's a little shit." glancing to her friend that was now dancing. she'd leaned your chin up to look at your eyes, taking in the way your pupils looked so enlarged, your eyes a misty red. "c'mon, let's go home, angel."

at that, a pout formed on your lip. "don' wanna go home." ellie breathed in quickly, knowing this would be harder than she thought. "'m having fun, els." though you really weren't. the entire night, you'd been in desperate need for her comfort, but this was where the alcohol was. and it was safe to say that you were rather enjoying this buzz.

ellie sighed, eyes narrowing in on you, not a glare, a soft look that looked almost exasperated. "how about this, we go home and i get you some ice cream then we watch the swan princess in bed, hm? how's that sound?" the swan princess was just about your favourite movie ever. and you really did want some ice cream. ellie could see the way your face was contemplating your choices. "if we stay, you're not allowed to drink anymore anyway." not with her around, that was for sure.

your brows pinched together, pout jutting out. "you're so mean."

"so mean." ellie mumbled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "let's go home, yeah?"

"lemme say goodbye to dina." you mumbled, already trying to get out of her hold.

but ellie was quicker, she held a tight grip on your arm, already leading you out of the room that stunk of alcohol. "you'll see her tomorrow." she spoke, doing the very same when you said you wanted to say goodbye to jesse. ellie was no stranger to leaving parties, it went the same way every time. at first, it'd be a little goodbye to one of your close friends then they were begging and pleading for you to stay, roping you back in when you didn't want to be there. in some situations, that irish goodbye was just simply a better choice, this was one of the many situations.

by the time ellie had made it to the front porch, your arm was no longer in her hand but you were simply interlinking your fingers with hers. ditzy as ever, she watched as you turned your head up at the pretty stars, completely entranced.

you were beautiful, from your strongest features down to your biggest of insecurities. the way you looked up at the sky, tight lipped and breathing slightly heavier through your nose, she couldn't help but smile. everything about you was captivating, she was completely and utterly entranced by your every feature.

but of course, all beauty is strange.

she watched as you let her hand go, falling abruptly and slumping against the grass of the front garden. with slightly wide eyes, she crouched down to meet you. "hey, hey, what's goin' on?"

though the air had hit you much harder than you'd been anticipating, making your head feel all the foggier. "don' wanna walk." eyes blinking heavily, avoiding ellie's at all cost. with furrowed brows, you stared at one of the young guys that had been getting sick in a bush, you cringed, turning away.

ellie sighed slightly, realising there had been nothing really 'wrong' and it was merely you drunkly babbling. "jus' gotta make it to the car, honey."

but you were already whining, your hands twisting in your hair. "but that's... so far." glancing to ellie's truck that sat... not even ten feet in front of you. ellie always parked up real close to the house. giving in, ellie slipped her arms underneath your legs. "what are you doing?"

"pickin' you up, baby." and she did just that. she picked you up off the dewey grass that could have been wet with... anything really. her hands under your legs, other against your back as she carried you towards the car.

she maneuvered you into the car carefully before leaning over you, clicking the belt in place. you almost giggled at this her treating you like a baby. she pressed another kiss to your cheek before closing the door. you watched with loopy eyes as she walked around the truck, opening up the drivers side door. "you know, i could have drove us home?" you slurred, eyes not even looking the right way.

ellie huffed out a scoff. "you're so drunk." she'd seen you slightly tipsy before but this? this was truly unheard of. "there's no way i'd let you behind a wheel."

"'m not drunk." you argued, she scoffed again, glancing down at you. "on love, maybe." giggling in a weird tone. this was before you let your head drop, slamming it against the dashboard on accident. a loud slam could be heard and with wide eyes, ellie looked down at you again. "ow." you mumbled, not moving from your position.

"jesus christ." ellie breathed. "idiot." she also added. "you okay, sugar?"

"peachy." you yawned against the dashboard, picking your head up. you couldn't help it, it felt so heavy on your shoulders. you reached your hands up, grasping the mirror of the passenger seat, shoving it down to look at your now awfully discoloured forehead. "'s gonna bruise so bad." you could already tell. you huffed out a giggle, glancing to your concerned girlfriend who, with both hands on the steering wheel, was trying to keep her eyes on the road. "they're gonna think you hit me."

she gave you an awful look, brows pinched together and mouth open. "why would you even say something like that?" you just shrugged, sitting yourself back on the seat. perhaps you were too drunk to feel your own body right now but one thing was for sure, by morning, you'd definitely be feeling that pain on your forehead. "such a child." she rolled her eyes.

"hey!" you instantly defended as the car rolled into the driveway. thankfully, you didn't live too far from the party. "if i'm a child 'n you're dating me then you're a pedophile, wanna add that to the list? abuser, pedo―"

"how about we just get you inside, huh?" she quickly tried to change the subject.

"never fail to surprise me, william." not even saying her last name right. you almost snorted. "edward william, can i call you that?"

"you most certainly can not." before exiting her side of the truck. soon enough, she was back at your door, helping you out. you didn't need her assistance as much this time, walking with your own two legs though she still kept her hands around your waist, holding you upright. the first groan and hands to your stomach, ellie had you sitting on your knees by the toilet. she was not taking any chances tonight. "how you feeling, pretty girl?"

not entirely realising she'd been on about your stomach, you looked up, your eyes strained on your ring that danced on your fingers, pretty, silver and dainty. ellie'd gotten it for you. "floaty." is all you responded with.

her fingers were flat against your back, rubbing up and down gently. "think you'll get sick?" because as soon as you'd both walked in the door, you were complaining about your stomach. no more ice cream for you.

you turned your head up at her, confused, still very drunk expression on your face. "anna got sick?" your friend that had been laughing at you earlier.

ellie rolled her eyes. "nobody got sick, baby." realising you were still much to out of it to be answering her questions. "you wait by the toilet and i'm gonna get you some jammies, 'kay?"

"okay, els." grinning up at your gorgeous girlfriend before laying your head down on the toilet seat. she made sure you didn't see her cringe as you'd think it was directed at you and not the fact that your face was on your guys' toilet. sober you would have never even thought of doing such a thing. but ellie could tell you were too out of it to even think.

when she returned, she had in her hands a light pink jammie bottoms, darker pink hearts littered around it. the material was sort of sheer seeing as it'd been one of those hotter nights. she also held a white vest, knowing you'd be too hot to wear any shirt over it. how ellie ended up crouched in front of you and taking off your makeup? she didn't know. yet somehow, that was what she was doing. "so pretty." she mumbled as the cloth took the last stroke against your face. what had been hard was taking off all that mascara. but ellie had seen you in many different ways, lights, places and sides. you were truly and utterly breathtaking.

you hadn't brought it up again until you were sat in the bed, bin on your lap as ellie stat up right next to you, hand once again comforting your back as you felt a wave of nausea. "you really think i'm pretty?" waiting for the nausea to pass.

ellie's eyes softened in on you. you knew she thought you were pretty, she couldn't deny the way her lips curled up at the 'fishing' you'd been unintentionally doing. "so pretty." she mumbled against your skin, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "everything about you."

"bump 'n all?" you joked.

"bump and all." she mumbled back, a grin on her lips.

you couldn't help the way you leaned into her chest covered by her sleep shirt. "you're the prettiest." but as soon as the words left your mouth, she took notice of how your face changed, looking sort of green.

"in the bin, baby, in the bin." turning your head and already holding your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. she tried not to cringe as you found yourself getting sick into the bin, merely frowning as she rubbed up and down your back with her free hand, you holding the bin upright. perhaps it was best that you got sick, at least now the nausea may stop. "i know, darling, i know." hearing your pitiful whines and whimpers. you hated nothing more than getting sick. "doin' so well."

suddenly you were back in the bathroom, standing against the door despite her many protests for you to stay in bed. you watched as she cleaned the bin or 'basin' out in the sink. "'m sorry, els." with tears burning at the edges of your eyes.

"what? no, no, no." already discarding the bin as her hands came up to your face. "don't cry, you've nothing to be sorry for."

but you had everything to be sorry for. "ruined your night." you whimpered out, hugging the girl close. "'n now you have to clean everything 'n 'm not even helping."

"'cause you need rest, mlove." she hated the way she couldn't see your pretty face peeking out, heart aching at the fact that your eyes were stained with tears. "you didn't ruin my night at all, you know i love taking care of you." and it was so true. ellie adored taking care of you, watching the way you'd go soft and completely turn to putty. she liked knowing that she was there to piece you back together when you couldn't.

"b-but―" ignoring the way the fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"no buts." she moved your head to look at her, hair matting down at the sides. "i love you so much and i love taking care of you but right now you need to be in bed, resting up and drinking some water," she'd left a glass on the nightstand. "so that you don't feel icky in the morning." because as much as she loved taking care of you, she still hated to think you felt bad.

you merely sniffled. "love you too." mumbling as you glanced down at your sock covered feet, suddenly feeling shy.

ellie couldn't help but smile at you. "you better." leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead.

"please don't touch my forehead."

"right, dashboard, sorry."

"tryna hurt me―"

"i was not―"

"abuser―"

"can you shut up?"

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

#queer #ellie williams angst #ellie #williams #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #lesbian #the last of us #tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us x reader #ellie williams drabble #ellie drabble #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #ellie williams x y/n #tlou fluff #tlou angst #tlou imagine #tlou oneshot #gay #lgbtq

[concretenoah]

FIC RECOMMENDATIONS:

i wanted to make a list of fics i thoroughly enjoyed. all of you are amazing, and i wanted to show you some love. everyone give these fics a read if you haven’t already <3

BAD OMENS:

Sweet Like Honey by @darksigns-exe

Slow Down by @measuredingold

Just Friends by @measuredingold

Heaven Sent by @measuredingold

Now Our Tongues are Tied by @measuredingold

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Wine by @concreteburialplot

Intertwined by @concreteburialplot

We’ll Get You There by @concreteburialplot

Draped Across by @concreteburialplot

Euclid Verse by @deathblacksmoke

I'm Buzzing at the Thought by @deathblacksmoke

You’ve Got a Pretty Way About You by @deathblacksmoke

The Crazier I Came by @deathblacksmoke

Dramamine by @deathblacksmoke

My, My, Those Eyes Like Fire by @circle-with-me

The Way You Bend, The Way You Break by @circle-with-me

You’d Be Better Off on Your Own by @foliosriot

Consequences by @collapsedglasshouses

Little One by @cowpokeomens

Polyverse Cam Boy AU by @the-way-of-words

So Give Me All You Got, I Can Take It by @the-way-of-words

Sweetened Breath, Tongue So Mean by @rottingfern

Said & Done by @nerdraging4point0

Dive by @ladyveronikawrites

Interlude: Made Breath and Skin by @mysticdoodlez

WILL RAMOS:

Somewhere Along the Way by @malice-ov-mercy

My Love by @malice-ov-mercy

All I Want for Christmas (will x noah x reader) by @malice-ov-mercy

Music, Love, and Sex by @malice-ov-mercy

You’re Shooting Stars from the Barrel of Your Eyes by @circle-with-me

Tis’ the Damn Season (all parts) by @circle-with-me

Will As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

VINNY MAURO:

Am I Fuckable? by @foliosriot

Vinny As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

Sweet Boy by @circle-with-me

JESSE CASH:

Jesse As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot

Legs by @circle-with-me

dividers by @cafekitsune

last updated 04.18.24

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfiction #vinny mauro fic #vinny mauro fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nick folio fic #jolly karlsson fic #fic recs

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Technology from 1870-1899 (For Encanto fic writers)

So, A mutual of mine @miracles-and-butterfliess pointed out that everyone (including me) tends to forget that Encanto was literally made when the triplets were born. Which is literally 1900 or 1901. Regardless, it was the very beginning of the 19th century so let me tell you about the technology/things they would/wouldn’t have. (And please keep in mind that most of these may or may not have been imported into Colombia yet.) 

1870 - 1879

1872—A.M. Ward creates the first mail-order catalog. NO

1873—Joseph Glidden invented barbed wire. NO

1876—Alexander Graham Bell patents the telephone. NO

1876—Nicolaus August Otto invents the first practical four-stroke internal combustion engine. NO

1876—Melville Bissell patents the carpet sweeper. NO?

1878—Thomas Edison invents the cylinder phonograph (known then as the tin foil phonograph). MAYBE

1878—Eadweard Muybridge invents moving pictures. NO?

1878—Sir Joseph Wilson Swan invents the prototype for a practical electric lightbulb. YES? 

1879—Thomas Edison invented the first commercially viable incandescent electric light bulb. NO?

1880 - 1889

1880—The British Perforated Paper Company debuts toilet paper. YES

1880—English inventor John Milne creates the modern seismograph. NO

1881—David Houston patents camera film in roll format. NO?

1884—Lewis Edson Waterman invents the first practical fountain pen. YES

1884—L. A. Thompson built and opened the first roller coaster in the United States at a site on Coney Island, New York. NO

1884—James Ritty invents a functional mechanical cash register. YES?

1884—Charles Parson patents the steam turbine. NO

1885—Karl Benz invented the first practical automobile powered by an internal-combustion engine. NO (even before Encanto, Alma’s town looked rural so I doubt the automobile reached them yet.)

1885—Gottlieb Daimler invented the first gas-engine motorcycle. NO

1886—John Pemberton introduces Coca-Cola. NO

1886—Gottlieb Daimler designs and builds the world's first four-wheeled automobile. NO

1887—Heinrich Hertz invents radar. NO

1887—Emile Berliner invented the gramophone. YES

1887—F.E. Muller and Adolph Fick invented the first wearable contact lenses. NO

1888—Nikola Tesla invents the alternating current motor and transformer. NO

1890 - 1899

1891—Jesse W. Reno invents the escalator. NO

1892—Rudolf Diesel invents the diesel-fueled internal combustion engine, which he patents six years later. NO

1892—Sir James Dewar invents the Dewar vacuum flask. NO

1893—W.L. Judson invents the zipper. NO (zippers didn’t become popular globally until a little bit later; buttons, ribbons/laces and whatever else were still the norm/in fashion for fastening and tying (which is still the case in some places today)

1895—Brothers Auguste and Louis Lumière invent a portable motion-picture camera that doubles as a film-processing unit and projector. The invention is called the Cinematographe and using it, the Lumières project the motion picture for an audience. NO?

1899—J.S. Thurman patents the motor-driven vacuum cleaner. NO (if you're running from being killed, the last thing you're going to bring is a vacuum cleaner) 

I remember a post listing the sort of jobs there would be in Encanto but I forgot so I’ll just list the ones I know (let me know if I need to add anything.): 

Seamstress/tailor

Embellisher

Field worker 

Teacher (of any kind; music, dance, art, etc)

Woodworker - wood carver

Toy maker

Construction worker

Joining a Local band/ Orchestra - being apart of a choir 

Carpenter 

Metal worker 

Jeweler (though I’m not sure if Jewelery of the diamond/gem kind is common in Encanto)

bladesmith/ knifemaker 

Inventor? (Inventors should exist in Encanto by now…just one other genius besides Mirabel?)

I know some of these are very obvious but I’m just giving people options okay? 

@miracles-and-butterflies you seem to know a lot more about this kind of stuff so if you have anything to add/take away or me to fix please let me know. I tried to search up “When was X invention imported into Colombia” and literally nothing of use comes up. 

#camilo madrigal #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #dolores madrigal #antonio madrigal #isabela madrigal #pepa madrigal #encanto 2021 #encanto au #encanto fanfic

[malyce19]

Hi.

I’m working on coming back to the world of fic writing after a very long hiatus. TLDR I got sober and had a baby and my perspective on the whole world changed, as it does. So if you’ve liked my fics in the past, I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for so long. Here’s a teaser of what I’m working on right now. It’s called State Lines.

“there’s no such thing as a clean break when your heart starts bleeding out.” - chance peña

Day 1

She sold her penthouse and bought the car. A gray sedan, plenty of room for all of the belongings she cared enough to travel with. Nothing flashy, something reliable and low maintenance that wouldn’t call too much attention to her presence as she made her escape. All that mattered to her was that the car’s suspension wasn’t impacted by all of the emotional weight she was bringing with her on this journey to nowhere. She should have said something, she knows that. But what do you say when you’re leaving everything and everyone behind?

She didn’t know where she was going, not that it really mattered. She’d been driving for two days, only stopping for gas and compulsory restroom and food breaks. The more distance she could place between herself and blonde haired blue eyed loves of her life, the better. So she drove, vaguely eastbound with stinging eyes and an aching heart.

Miles passed and the road lines started to feel like metaphors, lines in the proverbial sand. Endless expanses of pavement and exit signs beckoned her forward, the promise of anonymity and rebirth lingering somewhere on the horizon as she drove. As her old life burned to cinders behind her, she felt less like a phoenix and more like a nondescript speck of ash, floating aimlessly on the wind. And maybe that’s all she was now, without her.

Day 3

By day three, Lena had to stop to sleep. She’d pushed herself as far as she could, coffee and disgustingly sweet energy drinks sustaining her only to the point of blurred vision and shaking hands. So she found a slightly innocuous looking hotel a few miles off the highway in northern Texas, pulling her borrowed (now stolen) NCU baseball cap down as far as it would go to obscure her features as she checked in. It helped, she supposed, that the kid behind the counter couldn’t drag his eyes away from the football game he was watching long enough to look her in the eye, so being recognized wasn’t an issue. She paid for the room in cash, as she had with everything else on this trip, and she tipped the boy an extra $100 bill to ensure housekeeping left the room alone until she’d checked out. Leaving a paper trail would defeat the purpose of a clean break, and she couldn’t risk being recognized by a well-meaning staffer trying to offer more towels.

In the safety of a locked hotel room, Lena took her hair down and tossed the duffle bag on the bed. It was getting dark out, and she closed the heavy curtains to keep her eyes from searching the clear sky for familiar streaks of red and blue. It was only a matter of time, she knew, before her absence would become obvious. She’d left LCorp on sabbatical, leaving Sam at the helm for the time being, vaguely committing to take the reins again sometime in the future. Her new phone was blissfully quiet, Sam and Jess the only two she trusted with the number. News alerts about superheroes and aliens and secret government agencies were disabled, and all that graced her lock screen was a stock photo of some rainy trees.

As she sat down on the bed, exhaustion starting to settle into every nerve, she couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she got here. Not physically, that was obvious. She bought a car and drove for three straight days until she realized she was endangering the other drivers (though there’d been very few) by continuing on like this. She just didn’t trust herself to keep going without rest, so here she was, in a Hilton hotel in fucking Lubbock, of all places. Trust. That’s what this all boiled down to, wasn’t it? Misplaced trust, betrayal of trust, lack of trust where it was dutifully earned with literal blood, sweat and tears. Trust, broken and shattered and disintegrated in one fell swoop with her former favorite person’s too-little-too-late confession.

#supercorp #fan fiction is my comfort object #supercorp fic #lena luthor #supergirl #kara danvers

[tenelkadjowrites]

Arrow in the Dark - Part One: Money - Seonghwa x Reader

PART TWO HERE.

💸 Summary: Your quiet life of working at a convenience store is upended when ultra wealthy Seonghwa convinces you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night in order to fool his parents.

💸 Word count: 11k

💸 Genre and warnings: wealthy seonghwa. fem pronouns for reader. fake dating trope. depictions of emotionally manipulative parents. there is no smut in this part - parts two and three will have it.

💸 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multihoe-net - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @dreamtof0rget - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @meowmeowminnie - @revehosh - @nevieatiny - @nirvanawrites111 - @madamdionysia - @a-tiny-teez - @idunnowhatonameit - (sorry if i forgot anyone, i’m horrible with tags.)

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               The street is laced with puddles reflecting the city lights back at you through the rain streaked window. Your chin rests in the palm of your hand, staring at the small restaurant across from the convenience store that you work at. Half of the sign is burnt out, the other half flickering, and the water droplets falling down the window distort it just a little.

               A customer who has been milling in the back debating what ice cream flavour to purchase for ten minutes finally meanders their way to the counter, holding a pint of vanilla. All that time and that’s what they settle on, you think, scanning the item and telling them the amount owed.

               As they rummaged for their wallet, the door to the store opens and a man steps inside. Having worked here for a couple of years, you know the regulars by now and he is one of them. The designer coat is a clear indication he lives at one of the fancy apartment complexes just down the street. The convenience store is on the cusp of the financial district and occasionally rich people dart inside to grab something and leave quickly. He always takes his time, checking each aisle as if something new might appear.

               The customer with the vanilla ice cream mumbles a thank you and leaves, their fingers gripping the container so hard that you wonder what sort of day they’ve had if that is their lifeline. Now it is just you and the rich guy.

               It is nearing midnight and your shift is almost finished. The tinny music that plays over old speakers is background noise to you, easily filtered out. When you first started working here, the fluorescent lights gave you a headache. You are used to that now as well. The shop is small, unremarkable, but in a good location and always has steady business. You know every object on the shelf. Comforting and depressing at the same time.

               The man ducks his head, grabbing a few items off the snack aisle before walking up to the counter. He is tall, high cheekbones, not a blemish on his skin. Wearing all black, with light blonde hair, he looks as if he stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Of course, that’s easy to do when you have money.

               You scan the items, tell him the total and wait. The man pulls out a Gucci wallet, removes some cash and hands it to you. His fingernails are painted black. That’s new, you think absentmindedly. When he popped in last week, his nails had been bare of any polish.

               “You’re short.” You say after counting, tapping the counter.

               “What?” It is the first time you have heard him speak and his voice is deeper than you would have expected.

               “The total,” You say, waiting for it to click that you aren’t insulting his height, “You’re short. See?”

               He glances downward at the money on the counter, his brows furrowed before opening his wallet again and fishing out more cash. You finish the transaction and he leaves without another word.

*

               The next night, to your surprise, Rich Guy returns. He is wearing slacks, dress shoes, and a button up black shirt as he looks at the beer selection. There are two other people in the shop this late, a giggling couple with their heads bowed together as they look at the snack foods. You glance at the clock. Just ten more minutes and your shift is done.

               Someone’s phone goes off, cutting through the music from the speakers and a low voice answers. You turn your attention to the window, watching yet another night of steady rain. The couple goes to the counter with a random assortment of items waiting to be purchased. After ringing them up, they leave, cozying up to each other as the rain takes them.

               “No, I told you that isn’t needed,” The voice says, floating over to the register, “I’m bringing someone.”

               It’s Rich Guy talking, you realize. He sounds on edge. Maybe he always sounds like that. It isn’t as if you sit and chat with him all the time. Yesterday was the first time you heard him speak.

               “I’m bringing my…girlfriend,” He hesitates on the word before going on, his voice growing louder as he approaches the register, “So, please listen to me and cancel whatever you had planned.” He stops in front of you, putting down a few energy drinks, having apparently decided against the beer. “I have to go.”

               Rich Guys hangs up the call as you ring up the items. Of course someone like this would have a girlfriend. He probably has twelve of them all around town, competing for his attention and money. Does he switch to a different one each night or…

               Suddenly acutely aware of Rich Guy staring at you, your hand falters scanning one of the drinks, glancing upwards at him. He even looks handsome in this horrible lighting, some part of your brain thinks.

               “You’ve worked here awhile, right?”

               For a split second, you wonder who he is talking to before it sinks in. “Me?” You ask, a little thrown. When he nods, you reply, “Uh, yeah. A couple of years now.”

               “Do they pay you well?” is his follow up question.

               You wonder if the frown shows on your face. What a weird question, you think. If Rich Guy is having some sort of mental crisis in the convenience store about giving up his wealth and trying to live a “regular” life, you aren’t sure you can handle that right now.

               “Uhm. It’s a convenience store job,” You say slowly, “So…” You give him the total for the energy drinks.

               But it is as if he hasn’t heard you. Something is spinning in his head, pieces coming together for some problem that must be floating around in his life. What sort of problems did someone like him have, anyway? You couldn’t fathom it.

               “Why don’t you get a different job?” He asks.

               You picture tossing the energy drink at his head but manage to restrain yourself. You aren’t even sure why you keep replying to his invasive questions. “All retail jobs are the same.” You fight the overwhelming urge to add the word dude to the end of the statement just because you doubt anyone has called Rich Guy a dude before.

               The answer seems to quell whatever is going on in his head because he falls silent, handing you some cash. Giving him his change, your hand brushes against his. His skin is soft, almost unnaturally so, probably because he buys high end lotion or something.

               Rich Guy leaves without another word, the rain swallowing him up. You shake your head when he leaves, thankful your time here tonight is finished.

*

               Your shift wraps up a couple minutes later and you step outside, ducking under the overhang to try to find your umbrella in the bag. The rain is steady and has been for some hours now. The puddles glow from the lights and the gasoline run off. In the distance, a group of drunk people laugh loudly, exiting a bar. You wish you took your bicycle this morning but the tire popped a couple days ago and you cannot afford a new one at the moment. It’s fine, just a twenty minute walk back home to your place and then –

               “Excuse me?”

               Startled, you jump, looking to the right of you. Rich Guy from earlier is standing under the overhang, one hand on his bag of energy drinks, the other gripping his cellphone. In the dark, the screen is bright as the sun, illuminated on a text messaging screen. He shuts it off hastily, taking a step towards you.

               “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

               “Uhm…” Perturbed and on your guard, you move away from him to create some distance. “Sure.”

               Rich Guy has always been silent, coming in to buy snacks, sometimes beer, and leaving. Why he is suddenly feeling so chatty is beyond you.

               “My name is Seonghwa,” He introduces himself, the earlier tone he had with whoever was on the phone is now gone, replaced by a casual confidence. “It’s fine, I know your name already.” He gestures to your name tag. “I’ve been coming in here for like a year.”

               “Close to where you work or live or something?” You ask, mostly because you don’t know what else to say.

               “That’s right. I live in Garden Gates.”

               Garden Gates isn’t just for rich people. It’s for the rich rich, the sort of people who could go into a high-end designer store and they would close the entire place of business down so they could shop in peace. Just standing next to this guy feels wrong as if you should be dropping to your knees and cleaning his shoes or something.

               “Listen, not to be blunt, but you could use some money, right?” Rich Guy – no, Seonghwa, asks.

               You take another step away from him, guard raised even higher. “What?” You ask because how does someone answer such a rude question.

               “I have a proposition for you,” He says, his phone lighting up again with an incoming message.

               You have no idea what sort of American Psycho shit you are stumbling into but it’s time to leave. Forget the umbrella.

               “Not interested, sorry.”

               “Please, just a few seconds of your time.”

               “Nope. Uh, have a good night though.” You turn around, wondering if there is an alternate way home through a lot of traffic or something so the crowds could make you feel safe –

               When Seonghwa speaks next, he sounds positively desperate, his voice higher pitched and raised. “It’s nothing like that! I’ll pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend!”

               The words bring you up short, your feet stopping automatically even as your brain tells you to keep moving. Out of all the things you thought he was going to say, this was not one of them. Even though you know better, you still turn around to look at him.

               “What?” You want to tell him off – you may be inexperienced when it comes to matters of romance and sex but you aren’t a fool. Pretending to be my girlfriend most certainly has to be code for paying for sex. What is with this guy?

               Buoyed by the fact you have not run off screaming, Seonghwa approaches you carefully, peering at you.

               “I know how this sounds but I swear it is just that. I need someone to attend this dinner with my parents and pretend to be my girlfriend. After dinner, we’ll leave and that will be it.”

               “Uhm. Why?” You ask, perplexed, “Don’t you have an actual girlfriend?”

               “No and my dad is trying to set me up with the daughter of another company to create some sort of merger between our families.”

               What year is it? You wonder. “Is she that bad? That you don’t want to go on a date with her?”

               “It’s nothing against her personally. But my father simply won’t drop this idea.”

               “So…” You speak slowly, “In the shop. You said you had a girlfriend…”

               Seonghwa rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I said it without thinking. Just to get him to back off. But now, I actually have to show up with someone.”

               “Okay, so you take a strange woman with you to this dinner and then what? I mean, they will want to see your girlfriend again at some point, right? Then what?”

               Seonghwa blinks. You can tell that he has not thought this out very much. Impatience nips at your heels. You could be halfway home by now and instead you are listening to this man you don’t even know try to explain the most batshit idea ever.

               Continuing, you say, “So, I don’t think just one dinner will work. Especially if he is pushing this other woman on you. Would your dad drop it just cuz your ‘girlfriend’ shows up to a single dinner?”

               Seonghwa looks resolute now. “I’ll figure that part out. I just need to get through this dinner. I’ll pay you whatever amount you need. Would a few thousand be okay? It’ll be at my dad’s penthouse for a few hours. I can always lie and say that we are going overseas for a month or two afterwards and he won’t know you’re not with me.”

               There’s a lot to take in here: the use of penthouse casually, the fact Seonghwa can apparently fly overseas for weeks at a time without blinking, the prospect of money for one dinner. Would a few thousand be okay? He had uttered that sentence without hesitation.

               But there is one big issue that stops you from accepting.

               “Sorry, but I can’t. I don’t even know you. The entire thing just sounds too sketchy.” You tell him, all of it being partially true but not the whole truth.

               Seonghwa’s face falls silently but he nods. “Right. I get it. I know how odd it sounds. But if you change your mind, the dinner isn’t until Friday. May I give you my number? You can text me if you decide otherwise.”

               “Uhm, sure,” You reply, mostly to look polite, “Is that why you asked me those questions in the store? I was the first person you saw who might agree to such a thing?”

               Seonghwa looks up from his phone. The screen illuminates his face, driving home just how attractive he is. Next to him, you feel like the crypt keeper.

               “I pop in here a lot and you’re always working. I thought maybe the money would help. If there’s something you needed it for.”

               Well, I need a new wheel for my bicycle, you think but don’t say it because it sounds so pathetic. Seonghwa gives you his number and then opens his umbrella, stepping out into the rain. He turns to look back at you. In his tailored coat, and hair perfectly in place, he makes for a slender and well put together shape in the streetlights.

               “Have a nice night.” He says, nodding his head in your direction before turning around and walking down the street.

               You watch Seonghwa go, frozen in place, as he traces a neat and clean line through a small crowd until he is swallowed up.

*

               Opening the door to your apartment, you drop your bag on the floor, still wrangling with your umbrella which won’t close properly. Your roommate is out, probably for the night, which is fine by you.

               Once the umbrella finally closes, you look around the apartment. Small is an understatement. You bet Seonghwa’s closet is the size of your apartment. Stop thinking about him, you scold yourself. His offer was ridiculous. Pretending to be dating someone is a joke because the real problem at hand is that you have barely any experience in that department.

               You’ve gone on dates, you’ve even had sex a few times, but all of it fizzled out pretty quickly. Now, between working all the time and just trying to scrape up enough money to get by, you have let that entire aspect of your life go to the wayside. How in the world could you try to fool a rich guy’s family that you are dating someone you don’t even know when your own experience is so limited? That’s the real reason you turned Seonghwa down.

               Going to the bathroom, stripping off your clothes, you step under the water when it’s still cold because it takes ages to get the hot water going. By the end of the shower, it will be nice and warm but you aren’t going to run up the water bill waiting for that in the meantime.

               Washing the day off your body, your mind wanders back to Seonghwa. Some part of you wishes that you had enough experience to agree to the fake dating thing. It would be one night, make you thousands of dollars, and then you can wash your hands of it. Unless you are being blinded by the money and there is more going on here than it appears. You would hate to agree to such a thing and it turns out Seonghwa is some lunatic who made the whole thing up just to get you alone somewhere.

               And even if he is legit, how could you pass off as truly dating him in front of his parents? You could count the number of people you’ve kissed on one hand. To act like some adoring girlfriend is well beyond the scope of your abilities. He might not even pay you when the night is finished because you aren’t convincing enough. I’d have to ask for half up front, just to make sure I don’t leave empty handed. Then you catch yourself – there won’t be anything up front because you aren’t going to agree to such a thing.

               After the shower, your bed is calling. Sinking underneath the covers, ignoring the worrisome way the bed frame shakes, you grab your laptop off the night table and turn it on, wondering what mind numbing stuff to put on tonight. But you still don’t know anything about Seonghwa. He comes in a couple nights a week to buy snacks and then goes back to his Barbie Dream Life. The whole thing sounds like it is way too good to be true. To make that much money from pretending to date a guy for a night…why doesn’t he have any friends to pull into this scheme? Surely, someone close to him would agree to such a thing just out of friendship. Wait no, damn it, you aren’t supposed to be thinking about this. The entire thing is over and done with. Focus on a TV show.

               But even as the images flicker across the screen, your gaze sweeps the small bedroom. Most of the things in here you got at thrift stores; some pieces are even hastily repainted in an effort to personalize them. Your lava lamp broke a few weeks ago and is still on the shelf. A stack of books are shoved in a corner with no space to put them anywhere. You don’t even own a TV and instead hope your ancient laptop can last as long as possible. If you agreed to Seonghwa’s idea, you could get everything replaced in this room. It would look like a proper bedroom, not a hidey hole. You bet Seonghwa’s room at his Garden Gates place must look immaculate. The thought depresses you.

               Chewing on your bottom lip, you reach for your phone. The battery is almost dead but you manage to fire off one final text before the screen goes black.

               “I changed my mind. I’d like to meet with you to discuss it.”

*

               The coffee shop Seonghwa agrees to meet at the following afternoon is the sort of overpriced place you never step foot in. But he offered to pay so you are ready to take advantage of that and order the most ridiculous drink you can imagine at his expense.

               It takes about half a second to locate Seonghwa. It is difficult not to. Between his height, slender frame and annoyingly good looks, most people are shooting glances in his direction. He is studying the menu as if never been here before, something you doubt very much.

               Immediately, you wonder if you are underdressed. But no one glances in your direction minus a friendly greeting from the barista which gets Seonghwa’s attention. When he notices you, he gives a small wave. Today, his blonde hair is slicked back, while wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black turtleneck. He just screams money in a low effort sort of way whereas you scream on three hours of sleep and propelled out the door only by the hope of money.

               “Good afternoon,” He says formally, nodding his head as you approach, “I was just looking over the menu.”

               “You haven’t been here before?” You ask doubtfully.

               “Not in some time. I can’t recall what I got last time.”

               Seonghwa smells amazing. Some cologne, you assume before turning your attention to the menu. It has more options than you know what to do with and that doubt from last night blooms in your chest. If I get anxious ordering coffee, how in the world could I pull off being his fake girlfriend?

               Seonghwa goes to the register, placing an order of something you didn’t even know existed. Whatever the baristas are being paid, it cannot be enough. Seonghwa’s order sounds like a foreign language. Timidly, you order next – something simple in contrast to the big dreams from this morning of ordering something super overpriced and fancy.

               Seonghwa pays, you mumble a thanks, and then trail after him as he grabs a seat by the window. The coffee shop is next to a small side street where you can watch people hustle and bustle in and out of stores. The sun is high in the sky, not a cloud in sight for once.

               Seonghwa doesn’t even look out the window, turning his attention to you. “I assume you wanted to discuss specifics?”

               It had been your idea to meet today. The idea of not seeing him until the night of the dinner left you unsettled.

               “Uhm, yes,” You take a deep breath, “Just because…you know…this situation is unusual and I don’t actually know you.”

               “Right, of course, I understand.”      

               “Like, I was wondering why a friend can’t do this for you? You don’t have anyone else in your life who could pretend to be your girlfriend?”

               Seonghwa shakes his head, his fingers drumming against the tabletop. “No, it can’t be anyone my father knows. It won’t work then. He won’t believe I am dating anyone he’s met before. He knows I don’t see them in that light and no amount of lying would convince him otherwise. It has to be someone brand new.”

               His explanation made sense. Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you say, “We need to establish what is allowed then. I understand you need to convince your dad that you are dating but I don’t feel comfortable doing certain things.”

               It is then the barista comes over, dropping off the drinks. Seonghwa has gotten some fancy looking latte with pretty art on top. He admires it for a few moments, momentarily distracted, before taking a small sip. He didn’t even stop to take a pic, you think thunderstruck, because he drinks them all the time and this is just another coffee in a long list of coffees.

               You regret not getting a nicer coffee just for the sake of posting it on Instagram and looking fancy for a few seconds.

               “What is that?” You ask curiously, unable to help yourself.

               “It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

               “Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

               Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

               “Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it.” You explain.

               “I never…thought of it like that before.”

               You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

               “Right…” He looks incredibly thoughtful, as if you just told him the meaning to life and not to take a photo of a latte.

               You clear your throat a little when it is evident he isn’t going to speak. “Anyway, like I was saying. Ground rules. For the dinner.”

               Seonghwa breaks out of his thoughts, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the top of his hands. “My father isn’t big on public displays of affection so you don’t have to worry about anything overt. I was thinking some handholding and maybe touching your shoulder or waist occasionally, sitting really close together, things like that.”

               You could handle all of that. “Okay. But obviously, no kissing.”

               “Naturally. I’d rather die than kiss someone I was seeing in front of my parents anyway. What about kissing your cheek? When we leave for the night.”

               Seeing as all that requires of you is to stand there, you agree. “There is one more thing,” You tell him, “I want half up front.”

               Seonghwa raises one eyebrow delicately. “Do you not trust me?”

               “No,” You reply bluntly, “Sorry. But I don’t even know you. You could be leading me upstairs and turn into Hannibal, I have no idea.” Setting boundaries and asking for things is not your strong suit but given Seonghwa is brand new to your life, it is less anxiety inducing to ask him for things versus someone you have known for a long time.

               “Hannibal, the Carthaginian general?” He asks, confused.

“What? No, Hannibal Lecter, the fictional serial killer – forget it. You understand the risk I’m taking, right?”

Seonghwa looks stricken. “Of course, I understand. I’ll give you half before we go upstairs. Would this amount work for you?” He gives you a total that is enough to make you pass out on the spot and it is all you can do to nod.

               Taking a moment to collect yourself, you add, “I also want the address of where this penthouse is and the full names of you and your parents. Oh, and we should add each other on Instagram cuz who is dating and don’t have each other added on at least one social media site?” You rattle off the ideas as they pop into your head.

               “I’ll text you everything you need. Whatever you need to make you feel comfortable, of course.”

               On a whim, you add, “I’ll also be telling my friends where I’ll be that night.” You aren’t sure if that one will actually happen for the mere fact you don’t know how to explain something this ridiculous to your friends, especially your best friend. But better he thinks you will.

               Seonghwa is nodding so much he looks like a bobblehead. You finally stop talking to take a sip of your drink, giving him a chance to speak.

               “Like I said, whatever you need. I’ll also give you half before we go to the penthouse. Do you need me to send a car to pick you up?”

               “Uh, no, I’m okay,” You say quickly, unsure how you would explain such a thing if your roommate saw it, “And this is all just for one night. I’m not your fake girlfriend after this.”

               Seonghwa shifts positions, his fingers back to tapping against the table. “I know. However, if my lie about going overseas doesn’t swing, maybe I could ask for your help again? For more money, naturally.”

               “Let’s just wait and see how the first night goes. You might not be impressed with my performance. Your dad could possibly tell it is total bullshit.” You see, Seonghwa, I actually have no clue what I am doing and am just doing this to get your money and leave. The chances of anyone believing we are together is laughable and you definitely won’t want to see me again after this dinner.

               The two of you fall silent, drinking your coffees together for a few minutes before you talk again. “I don’t know anything about you. You should probably tell me stuff about yourself and your life or your dad won’t believe that either.”

               “Oh.” Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I’m not very good at talking about myself.”

               Join the club, you think but instead go, “Just tell me generic stuff, I guess. Your favourite colour.”

               “Black.”

               That’s not a colour, you think but instead go, “What do you do for fun?”

               “For fun?”

               “Yes, you know like…a hobby. Something that gives you joy.”

               Seonghwa’s brows come together. Wow, he actually has to think about this. “I like going yachting,” He answers finally as you take a sip of the drink.

               Which you then almost promptly choke on, coughing at his reply. He looks alarmed, asking if you are alright. You nod in between coughs. Yachting! Imagine having that as your hobby. This is so not going to work.

               “Do you own a yacht?” You ask once the coughing fit passes, afraid of the reply.

               “Me? No. Father does and so do a couple other families we know well.”

               “What do you do on the…yacht?”

               “Soak up the sun, drink a little, just relax. We usually take the yacht to the island we own and spend a few days there before taking it back. A mini vacation, you know?”

               No, you don’t know. Your idea of a mini vacation is faking an illness to call out of work and then staying in bed to shove your face full of potato chips while watching the worst movies imaginable for twelve hours straight. Wait, he said they own an island. Oh, this is a clusterfuck.

               “Uh, right. I like to watch movies.”

               “Oh, my movie knowledge is pretty limited,” Seonghwa replies.

               I assumed that when you thought I meant Hannibal from a war twelve billion years ago, you think but don’t say. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did your family get rich enough to own a yacht and an island?”

               “Oh, my family owns a chain of supermarkets. It started about a hundred years ago. But then the chain expanded out of the country about thirty years ago and our money with it, very quickly.”

               “What chain?” When Seonghwa tells you, your stomach clenches. I’m going on a fake date with the heir of one of the biggest supermarket chains on the planet…I should’ve asked for more money.

               The doubt, which has been a wiggling creature in your stomach since Seonghwa first proposed this idea, is now screaming for attention. It is difficult not to wonder if this is going to be a giant mistake. You are not only out of your depth in regards to his money but also the fact you are woefully inexperienced in relationships. The need for money is blinding your common sense – and it continues to because you grab your coffee, standing up.

               “I should go. I have work tonight.” Which isn’t a lie but you suddenly desperately need to get away from Seonghwa before you call the entire thing off and miss out on making money.

               He looks surprised. “You’re going already?”

               You find his answer a strange one. What did he think, you two were gonna hang out?

               “Yup. Thanks for the coffee. Just text me all the information, okay? See you later.”

               You dart off before Seonghwa can even reply. You know that it appears as if you are running away – and fine, maybe you are. But the gravity of what you agreed to is hitting you and it is hard to breathe.

               For some reason, you know that Seonghwa is staring at your back as you walk down the street, leaving him behind in the coffee shop.

*

               It is past ten at night and the store is completely empty. Bored to tears and knowing your manager has snuck off for another cigarette break, you finally give in to the urge that has been tugging on your sleeve all shift.

               Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you bring up the text Seonghwa sent a few hours ago. It has the address, his parents’ names, and his Instagram handle. Curiosity gets the best of you, clicking it to see what sort of things Seonghwa posts online.

               His follower count is obnoxious and anxiety inducing; the idea of that many people seeing what is posted would freak you out. The page itself is clean and minimalist and Seonghwa is barely in any. Most of the photos are of streets at night. One is even of the outside of your store, the windows frosted over with snow from last winter, the yellow lights of the sign bright and visceral.

               You aren’t sure how long you scroll. You aren’t even sure what you are looking for. Does he just wander the streets at night or something? Most of the feed is of the city lights, the tall towers glittering like gems, occasionally a photo of a gorgeous hotel lobby, always the location tag with some other country.

               You finally find one photo of Seonghwa, with his hair dyed a more vibrant blonde than it is currently. He also doesn’t have black on, instead wearing a dark red button down shirt with the sleeves hastily rolled up a bit. There is a glitter smear across one cheekbone, catching the light. He is in some restaurant, face somewhat covered by his hand as he laughs. The angle is slightly tilted as if someone took the photo on a whim just to capture Seonghwa’s expression. Behind him is what appears to be the ocean dotted with expensive boats. The restaurant must open out onto some sort of balcony. You linger on the photo, unsure what you are looking to discover in Seonghwa’s laughter. Who took the pic of him? What made him laugh this hard? You have a difficult time picturing that same Seonghwa laughing like this now. Maybe you just don’t know him well enough but he seems to be much more distant and static than what this photo shows. Perhaps you are just overthinking it.

               You are so entranced by the post that when you bring your finger down to keep scrolling, you accidentally heart it instead. Breath catching, your eyes drop to the date on the post. It is from two years ago.

               “Fuck.” You say aloud and then quickly make sure a customer hasn’t come in when you were busy scrolling.

               But the shop is still empty. Looking back at your phone, you feel momentarily frozen at the idea of Seonghwa realizing you scrolled back years through his Instagram. The embarrassment rolls through you. You aren’t even sure why you scrolled back so far in the first place.

               Panicked, you unlike the post and drop your phone on the counter as if it burned you. Would it still notify him? Had you waited too long in unliking it? Maybe he won’t mention it.

               Deciding your phone has brought you enough danger, you shove it in your pocket and turn your attention back to work. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, I’m sure he didn’t even get the notification.

               You don’t check your phone again until you get home from work a few hours later. To your surprise, there is a text from Seonghwa and a notification on Instagram. He had hit like on a photo of yours from two years ago, a poorly lit picture of you and your best friend at a shitty bar for someone’s birthday.

               His text message reads: I can scroll too.

*

               When you turned down Seonghwa’s offer to pick you up for the dinner, you’d forgotten that your bicycle still had a popped tire. That meant texting him and asking if he could, in fact, come get you. Originally, you planned to walk. But when another storm rolled in, you knew that showing up looking like a soaked rat wasn’t going to sell the lie that Seonghwa was dating you or that you were taking this entire thing seriously.

               For some reason though you assumed Seonghwa would come by in a normal person car so you are baffled at the sight of a limo in front of your small apartment complex. Great, you think, so much for not attracting attention. To make it worse, a driver opens the door for you to scamper inside. You can practically feel people staring from their windows at the sight. Your roommate isn’t home again but if anyone mentions it to her, she will ask you a thousand questions.

               Seonghwa is sitting comfortably in the limo, another surprise. You hadn’t thought he would be here too. Having never been in a limo before, you take in the sight of the plush seating, a small TV playing the news, a bottle of champagne cooling in ice, untouched and unopened. Tiny lights run the floor length of the seats and the partition separating you and the driver is rolled up.

               “Good evening,” Seonghwa says, always slightly sounding like he belongs to the early 19th century, “Before, I forget…” He opens a formal looking bag next to him, looking for something.

               Seonghwa is dressed in a black button down shirt, the Prada logo evident on the small front pocket. With matching dress slacks and formal shoes (also Prada), he looks well put together as usual. His hair is slicked back again, making his cheekbones as attention grabbing as ever. Everything about Seonghwa is professional, distant, and clean. Your mind flashes to the photo of him in the restaurant. For some reason, you can’t stop thinking about the Seonghwa in that photo and the one currently in front of you.

               “Do you want to put this in your bag?”

               His words shatter your thoughts. In between slim fingers, he is holding a white envelope. Hesitating for a moment, you take it, glancing inside. It is a fat stack of money. Seeing the amount like this makes your head spin. You hastily shove it in your purse.

               “Don’t want to count it?” Seonghwa asks.

               “Uh, no, I’m fine, thanks.”

               “You look nice.” He says casually before looking down at his phone.

               You narrow your eyes a little, trying to gauge if he is making fun of you. Your outfit feels like a dismal imitation of what someone would wear around a bunch of hyper wealthy people. But Seonghwa’s attention has already shifted away from the compliment.

               “I told my father you were coming to dinner tonight. Listen, my parents…” He pauses for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable, “They obviously don’t want me with anyone they don’t pick for me. So I apologize ahead of time if they come off rude or ask too many personal questions. I’ll do my best to step in.”

               Great…like that doesn’t fill you with a sense of growing dread. You nod, lapsing into silence. The moment is quickly arriving. You have no idea if you are going to pull this off. What the hell am I thinking?

               When the limo slows down, your heart jumps to your throat. The door opens, and you get out of the limo first, looking at the extremely tall building. There is no name on the front, no indication it is an apartment complex minus the doorman. You assume every floor is a penthouse and it has to be at least seventy stories high. It is dizzying. You have gone past this building many times during life in the city and never glanced twice at it. It belongs to a different world than you. Now you are stepping directly towards it like a tiny fish getting ready to be swallowed by a whale.

               Seonghwa stands next to you and asks, “May I hold your hand?”

               You take a small sharp breath. This is it, you think, panic poking at the edges of your brain. You nod and Seonghwa slips his hand against yours, holding it gently. Your heart immediately starts to race. Seonghwa walks towards the doors and you let him pull you along. The doorman nods at him, pushing the wide silver doors open, and then you are in the lobby.

               It is as silent as a tomb in here, so minimalist that it feels completely uninviting. A large sleek reception desk makes up one of the walls, a large fountain in the middle, and the temperature just low enough to remind you of a morgue. The floors are black and white marble, sparkling in the soft lights. A row of elevators along the right side catch your attention as Seonghwa goes towards them, pressing a small key against one of the buttons which emits a soft dinging noise as it registers.

               As you wait, you catch your reflection in the elevator doors, slightly distorted. Seonghwa, looking posh and professional, handsome in that untouchable way…and then you. Absolutely no one will believe we are dating, you think, this is insane.

               The doors slide open silently and you realize the elevator only has one floor – the top one. Holy shit, his parents have their own special elevator. He presses the small key against the button signaling the top floor and the doors close.

               “Hey,” Seonghwa says, “You’re so tense.”

               “There’s no way this is going to work.” The words spill out before you can stop yourself, “Your dad will know in two seconds we aren’t really dating.”

               Seonghwa gives your hand a small squeeze, standing very close to you now, one hand resting on your hips. It is intimate and your heart is fluttering. “This will work. Just follow my lead.”

               Whatever the hell that means. Before you can ask, the doors open and you are suddenly in the penthouse.

Alright, let’s go.

*

               The next hour is an overload of information. You meet Seonghwa’s mom first, who takes you on a tour through the penthouse. You end up being glad that Seonghwa is holding your hand because it is the only thing that steadies yourself to the overwhelming show of wealth that is touted in front of you. If the lobby was minimalist, then the penthouse is maximalist to the tenth degree. Every section is covered in expensive artwork in gold frames, vases on display that look incredibly old and easily breakable, and even a large salt water aquarium running along one wall.

               Yet in all the objects and jewels and beautiful things that fill the penthouse, it is hard to find anything personal, anything that indicates this belongs to a family with a history or affection for one another. Who doesn’t have any photos of their kid? You wonder, not seeing a single photo of baby Seonghwa anywhere.

               By the time you finally sit down in the living room (on a couch so plush that you worry for a second that it is going to suck your body inside and never free you) your head is spinning and your grip on Seonghwa’s hand is so tight that it probably looks less romantic and more horror movie.

               It is then Seonghwa’s dad enters. You assume it is his dad because it is the first time Seonghwa lets go of your hand, standing up immediately to greet him. You also stand up to introduce yourself and the gaze his dad gives you is enough to curdle milk on the spot. Oh, he hates me, you think, but he probably would hate anyone dating his son who he didn’t pick.

               After everyone sits down again, there is a few seconds of silence. You can feel Seonghwa’s parents staring at you, their eyes scanning your clothes, the necklace you threw on at the last second (fake gold, can they tell just by looking? Probably.) and the way you scooch over closer to Seonghwa, closing the gap between the two of you while still keeping it respectful. It doesn’t matter what they think of me. All of this is bullshit. So, why am I so nervous?

               Seonghwa is grazing his thumb against the top of your hand, a minor touch that feels so strangely intimate that your heart skips a beat for a second. His father is staring daggers at the gesture and it is all you can do not to yank your hand away, apologize and leave hastily.

               “Have you lived in the city long?” It is Seonghwa’s mom, Mrs. Park, who breaks the silence, beginning the interrogation.

               “Since I was about five.”

               “What do your parents do?” This one is from Mr. Park.

               You tell them, watch the subtle change in both of their faces. It is evident the answer does not please them.

               “And what do you do?”

               This is about to please them even less. “I’m a convenience store clerk.”

               Seonghwa’s parents glance at each other. In that millisecond of a look, tons of information is exchanged, none of it positive. The scent of dinner is wafting into the room, cooked by an entire staff hired just for that purpose. Last night, you made instant ramen for dinner.

               Seonghwa speaks then, “It’s not too far away from where I live. I go in there sometimes to buy stuff when other places are closed.”

               “It’s dangerous to be out that late,” His mom scolds, “You could just get it delivered.”

               “I don’t mind,” He replies breezily.

               “What do you like about Seonghwa?” Mr. Park asks suddenly, his eyes focused on you and only you.

               Great, you think, I know almost nothing about this man besides the fact his favourite colour isn’t a colour and he thinks going to his own private island is a hobby.

               You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your answer. This will make or break the belief that you are dating Seonghwa and you regret not learning more about him at the coffee shop before running off. Seonghwa has stopped grazing your hand with his thumb as if he hadn’t expected his dad to ask a question like that.

               You glance at Seonghwa out of the corner of your eye, hoping to glean some last minute information from him. But nothing is forthcoming. Your mind randomly flashes back to the pic of him smiling at the restaurant, the slightly blurry nature of the photo, the glitter smear on his cheek, the dark red fabric bright against his skin.

               Turning your attention back to his dad, you reply, “He’s focused and professional. Always well put together,” Thinking of his face as he laughed, you go on, “But once you get past that exterior, Seonghwa is funny and charming. He’s thoughtful and considerate,” Where is the Seonghwa in the photo now? “He knows what he wants even if he puts other people’s needs before his, sometimes to his detriment. But there’s something in him that,” The glitter smudge on his cheekbone. “…that wants a sort of freedom that I hope I can give him.”

               His parents gawk at you. But it is Seonghwa’s gaze who feels the heaviest. You turn your face to look at his. His lips are parted slightly as if in question. You cannot read his expression. You haven’t seen it on him before. Something about it tugs on you.

               On a whim, just to twist the knife further against his parents, you lean forward and very softly kiss his cheek. The touch is so slight that it barely counts. But Seonghwa stiffens slightly in surprise before relaxing into it. When you pull away, your eyes meet for a moment and then you turn back to look at his parents.

               Mrs. Park stands abruptly. “I should go make sure dinner is coming along. Seonghwa, perhaps you can help.” It is not worded as a question.

               Seonghwa pauses for a moment before releasing the hold on your hand and following his mom into the gigantic kitchen, leaving you alone with Mr. Park, glancing worriedly at you over his shoulder before he vanishes.

               You should probably ask him a question now but your mind is completely blank. What do you ask a man like this? How many millions he made in the last five minutes? You would rather not know. Shifting uncomfortably, you scan the room trying to find literally anything to remark on. His gaze is heavy on you, almost suffocating.

               “You understand my worries, I’m sure,” Mr. Park begins instead, “And why I ask such questions. Seonghwa comes from a family of considerable wealth and there are those who would take advantage of it.”

               “I understand, sir.” By the way, your son is giving me a fat stack of thousands to pretend to date him tonight.

               “How am I not to know that you recognized him and decided to approach him simply because of his money?” Mr. Park is clearly trying to intimidate you but it is difficult for it to work when the situation is entirely fake.

               “He approached me, actually,” You reply which technically isn’t a lie, “I wasn’t familiar with his connections until recently. He doesn’t flaunt his wealth around or give any indication on who he is.”

               His dad chews on this for a moment. Deciding this would be a good time to flee, you stand up, asking where their bathroom is. Mr. Park rattles off a confusing amount of instructions which you pretend to understand and turn around, shuffling towards the hallway.

               The path you take, which may or may not be in the actual direction of the bathroom, takes you past the massive kitchen. You glance inside to see a few people hard at work making dinner. The sight is strange to see and as you go to turn the corner, the voices of Seonghwa and his mom float over, stopping you in your tracks.

               “This is all very funny, Hwa,” Mrs. Park is lecturing, “But bringing some poor girl to the house and flaunting your wealth around to make her smitten with you is in poor taste.”

               Great, we are definitely going to be caught already. Maybe your speech had come off completely artificial –

               Mrs. Park continues, “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong. All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. People like her only care and want one thing. You know that.”

               Your heart drops to your stomach at her words. You know that. How many times had his parents paid someone off to leave Seonghwa? Sounded like more than once. And wait…arranged marriage?

               “That isn’t why I’m dating her,” Seonghwa replies sharply, “I’m dating her because I like her. I know you and father have other plans for me but that doesn’t mean I have to marry whoever you pick.”

               “You know what happens if you don’t,” His mom’s tone is slightly pleading now, “I don’t want to see you left with nothing.”

               All this new information is throwing you for a loop. So not only is Seonghwa being forced into an arranged marriage, which he conveniently left out, but he might be kicked out of his family if he doesn’t agree to it?

               “I don’t know why we are talking about this. I told you. I’m dating her because I like her a lot. You should give her a chance. I wouldn’t bring her around if I didn’t care about her.” Seonghwa sounds convincing as if every word out of his mouth is completely true.

               However, there is a low rumble of anger in your stomach now towards Seonghwa’s parents and the intensity of it is throwing you off. You don’t know why you care so much about this new information when you took Seonghwa’s money to pretend to be his girlfriend. But before your logical brain can stop yourself, you come around the corner and feign surprise.

               “Oh, sorry to interrupt. Seonghwa, I think I got lost finding the bathroom, sorry.”

               Seonghwa moves towards you, one hand coming to rest on your waist. “No need to apologize.”

               “I guess it’s because my own apartment is so much smaller,” You say with emphasis, looking over at Mrs. Park, “All these fancy things are kinda over my head.”

               Mrs. Park looks stricken at the reminder of the disparity in wealth which you take secret pleasure in. When she replies, her voice is steel. “Seonghwa can show you. I should get back to the kitchen.”

               Right, time to boss around the servants. Seonghwa, his hand still on your waist, gently wheels you around, heading down the hallway and making a left. Then he opens the bathroom door.

               “Thanks,” You say, “But I actually don’t have to use the bathroom. I just wanted to get away from your dad grilling me.”

               Seonghwa’s mouth quirks at the corners and for a second, you think he might smile. But he doesn’t. Instead, he searches your face to see if you have heard the conversation with his mom. You want to bring it up but now isn’t the time – not in the middle of the penthouse, his parents breathing down your neck, and a fake date to complete.

               “How did you come up with that speech? And the kiss on the cheek at the end was genius,” Seonghwa asks, his voice quiet, taking a step closer to you. You get the feeling he has done a lot of whispering in this penthouse and the thought makes you a little sad.

               You can’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the Prada logo on his shirt. Cologne faintly clings to the fabric, a warm and spicy scent, mingled with clean laundry. “I don’t know,” You lie, “Just came to me. You know what? I actually do have to pee. Sorry, excuse me.”

               Slipping past Seonghwa, you close the bathroom door, trying not to be visually assaulted by how over the top and spacious the room is. Your heart is beating quickly. Just nervous. This shit is stressful. That’s all it is.

*

               Dinner is as awkward as the living room conversation. Between thinly veiled insults from Seonghwa’s mom about being beneath the family and his dad asking you questions as if you’re on the stand in a court room, it is all you can do to remember you are supposed to appear as if you are dating Seonghwa. Remembering to touch his shoulder when you are laughing, to look shy when Seonghwa tilts his face close to yours to tell you something and to cast adoring glances his way when he speaks while juggling his parents acting as if the world is ending in front of them is draining.

               On top of that, the food is rich people fare, which means most of it is completely new to you and the portions are so small that you are daydreaming about inhaling French fries once you get out of here.

               By the time the night is winding down, you think that the ruse may have worked. Mrs. Park seems thoroughly disturbed at the idea of you dating Seonghwa and his dad watches you like a hawk. The two of you fall into a simple routine of light touches and hand holding although there are no more kisses on the cheek. The singular one you gave Seonghwa earlier seemed to do the job.

               And while you are waiting for Seonghwa to finish saying goodbye for the night, you think maybe I don’t need a lot of experience to pull this off. In fact, maybe I just found my secret talent of acting. I could get into that. Maybe –

               “I was thinking perhaps your girlfriend could come with us to the beach house next weekend.” Mr. Park suddenly speaks, directing this at Seonghwa but carefully watching your face.

               Oh, he doesn’t believe us, you think with a thud of your heart, glancing at Seonghwa and trying to compose your expression into one of subtle questioning versus the panic that is bubbling in your chest.

               Without hesitation, Seonghwa replies smoothly, “I’m not sure if she is working next weekend.”

               Mr. Park gives a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you can work your schedule out?” He asks you and without waiting for a reply, goes on, “We like to go every six weeks or so to the beach house as a family. It’s important. And since Seonghwa is clearly so taken with you,” He lingers on the words, “We would love to have you.”

               You don’t work next weekend. Actually, it is the first weekend you have off in months. The universe is clearly laughing at you. But Mr. Park doesn’t know that and the last thing you plan to do is go to this beach house and pretend to date Seonghwa for an entire weekend.

               Stumbling over your words, you reply, “I would have to see my schedule. I can’t remember if I work or not. We are short staffed so I can’t just take off. As much as I would love to see the beach house.” You amend quickly.

               Seonghwa is pressing the elevator button multiple times as if that will make it arrive faster. Mr. Park is still staring at you as if he can read your mind. You take a step backwards, your hand going to Seonghwa’s lower back as the elevator doors finally open.

               “Thank you so much for dinner,” You tell his parents, trying to shove Seonghwa into the elevator without it being too obvious, “It was nice meeting you.”

               His parents say goodbye and the doors glide shut, leaving you alone with Seonghwa. You go to open your mouth to tell him that you failed when his hand circles around your waist and crushes you against him, lips grazing your ear. The touch is sudden and electric that your skin breaks out in goosebumps, heart racing so quickly that you wonder what in the world is wrong with you.

               “H-hey,” You stutter.

               “There’s a camera in the elevator and my father might be watching,” Seonghwa whispers in your ear, “Don’t talk about anything until we are in the limo.”

               Your cheek is against his chest, his hands around your waist, lips near your ear. The entire position is incredibly intimate which conflicts with his words of basically being spied on. You realize you should probably hug him back or you will look like a limp fish. Gingerly, you wrap your arms around Seonghwa, hating the fact your face feels warm and your heart is racing. You have no idea what is wrong with you tonight. Seonghwa smells even more amazing this close and your fingers press against his lower back, realizing how slender his waist is. His chest underneath your cheek feels hard and firm as if he works out or something….which you suppose he does because what else did he have to do all day?

               The elevator ride feels roughly fifty years long this time around. You can hear Seonghwa’s heartbeat in your ear, the warmth of his body and it feels so personal that when the elevator doors open it is all you can do not to run fleeing from the small space like someone desperately swimming to the surface for air.

               Scuttling through the lobby holding Seonghwa’s hand into the city lights outside, you are ushered into the limo and it is only then you finally speak.

               “We failed. You saw your dad, right? It was like…” Your mind searches for some sort of example, “It was like when Katniss failed to convince President Snow she was really madly in love with Peeta.”

               Seonghwa stares at you blankly. “When who didn’t convince who about who?”

               Frustrated at the fact Seonghwa is apparently too rich to understand basic pop culture references, you slump in the limo seat, secretly enjoying how comfortable it is. “We failed.”

               “We didn’t fail. He just knows me too well,” Seonghwa replies.

               “If you think the idea of you dating someone in another class would scare us into giving up the arranged marriage, you’re wrong.” Mrs. Park’s earlier words float back to you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if it is time to mention to Seonghwa what you learned. It feels wrong not to bring it up.

               But Seonghwa keeps speaking. “I know I told you it would be for just for one night. A weekend is asking a lot –”

               “Wait. You’re not asking me to actually go with you on this beach trip,” You blurt out.

               Seonghwa looks resigned as if he expected that answer. “Even if we say you are working next weekend, my father will just push it off to when you are available.”

               “And? I thought you were going to lie and say we were going overseas. You know, rich guy showing poor girl all the wonders of the world, making her wonder if she’s in love with him or just the fact his money opens every door sort of thing.”

               You mean this as a joke but Seonghwa’s face darkens like a storm rolling in. Whoa, hit a nerve with that one, you think, wondering if you pissed him off.

               But if you did, he doesn’t say anything about it, opting to ignore the remark. “I know. I told you this would be my problem, not yours,” He opens the bag he had left in the limo, pulling out another white envelope, “This is the rest of the money.”

               He hands it over but you find yourself hesitating to take it. “Are you sure? We didn’t technically pull it off a hundred percent.”

               “It’s fine,” Seonghwa’s voice is stiff, “We convinced my mother. It counts.”

               You slip the money in your purse, thinking about how much cash you have in there. More than you ever had before. “All we have to do is offer her a check and this….convenience store clerk will vanish. You know that.” The two of you fall into silence. Seonghwa is staring wordlessly at the unopened bottle of champagne, most likely trying to figure out his next move. This has nothing more to do with me. I agreed to this for the money and nothing else.

               As the limo turns down your street, you try to think of what to say to Seonghwa but no words come. The limo comes to a stop, the driver opening the door for you to get out.

               “I’ll walk you,” Seonghwa says suddenly, ignoring your protests when you say that isn’t necessary.

               Your apartment is on the ground floor which means escorting Seonghwa through the courtyard made up of mostly dead plants and a bench that has seen better days. You really didn’t feel like showing him where you lived any more than necessary.

               As you cross the courtyard, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll pay you triple.”

               Stopping in your tracks, you look over your shoulder. “What?”

               He seems to be mentally chewing on something, his brows furrowed and his gaze intense. “For the beach weekend. I’ll pay you triple what I paid tonight. I’ll pick you up Friday, bring you back Monday morning.”

               Silence settles across the empty courtyard. Somewhere, very faintly, you can hear thunder. Seonghwa has shoved his hands in the pockets of his overpriced slacks but his posture remains as regal as ever.

               With a tiny sigh, you say, “I heard you. With your mom. About the arranged marriage.” Seonghwa stiffens, his lips pressed in a thin line. You keep going, “Why didn’t you tell me they are trying to marry you off? There is way more at stake here than your parents wanting you to date someone. You’re going to be…what, cut off from the money if you don’t marry who they choose?”

               “I’ll be cut from the inheritance and not allowed to take over the company when my dad retires. I have money of my own but my family’s wealth won’t go to me if I don’t marry who they pick.”

               You exhale slowly, starting to pace the courtyard. You make a mental note of the fact his mom made it sound like he would be left with nothing which is obviously far from the truth. You are getting a sinking feeling that they know how to manipulate him. The thought makes you sad.

               “Seonghwa, you have so much at stake here. And I don’t think I’m a good pick for what you need. Don’t get me wrong. As you can see,” You gesture to the building, “I need the money. I want the money. The amount you’re offering for the beach trip…that’s life changing. But there is no way I could pull it off for an entire weekend.”

               Seonghwa, perhaps panicked at the thought of his already tenuous grip on this absurd plan falling apart, takes a step towards you. “I – I can’t suddenly change people. It has to be you. I didn’t think – I didn’t think my father was going to invite you to the beach trip. He’s never done such a thing before. I can do the overseas lie after, I just –”

               “No, Seonghwa, I mean…” This is so awkward, you think. “My dating experience is tragic. You understand? I’ve never even been in a real relationship. I’ve gone on a few dates. That’s why I said no originally until I changed my mind for the money. I don’t know how to be in a fake relationship because I’ve never been in a real one. That’s probably why we didn’t convince your dad tonight. Going to the beach house means I have to act 24/7 and there is no way I can pull it off. I’m not just saying no because of me. I’m saying it for you too. If I had known…if I had known there was this whole marriage thing going on, I wouldn’t have agreed to it. There’s too much at stake here.” You want to crawl in a hole now – what an embarrassing speech.

               You see a flicker of surprise cross Seonghwa’s face which only makes you feel worse.

               Adding on before he can reply, “It’s like…you’re paying me so this is a job, right? I’m not qualified for the job. So, you should fake break up with me and find someone better.”

               You have stopped pacing now and Seonghwa approaches you. Your nails dig into the palms of your hands as he does so, your breath catching in your chest.

               “So what if you’re not qualified for the job? Have you seen most people at their jobs? Anyone in middle management usually doesn’t know how to rotate a PDF.” His voice is quiet, his gaze steady. “We have a week until the beach trip. We’ll do a crash course in relationships.”

               “Uhm, I don’t think that is how relationships work.”

               “I’ll show you the ropes so you can act better next weekend. We will go on dates, spend a lot of time together, you’ll learn more about me so you can loosen up at the beach house. I’ll show you what a relationship is like and you can use that on the trip. By the end of it, my parents will be convinced we are in love with one another and they will give up on the arranged marriage. I’ll lie and pretend to go overseas with you, threaten elopement. I might need to see you one or two more times after, which I’ll pay you for, and then I’ll tell them you left me and I’m too heartbroken to consider anyone else.”

               “Seonghwa, that is a batshit plan.”

               “I’ve tried everything else with them. You’re my best shot. I’ll pay whatever you want. I’ll pay your rent for a year. I don’t care.”

               You want to ask him if this is how his family does things – just pay for someone to stick around, pay for someone to leave. You want to ask him who his parents erased in his life with money. You want to ask him what happened to the Seonghwa in the photo.

               But your brain is glitching on this whole relationship practice thing followed by an entire weekend around his scary parents. No words leave your lips and instead you just stare at him.

               “Do you need time to think it over?” He prompts.

               Your mind flashes back to the elevator, his lips near your ear, his arms around you, your heart racing. There would be more of that if you agreed to this ridiculous idea. But then you think about the money in your purse. There would be more of that too. A lot more of that.

               Thunder again. Louder this time. It rains in the city constantly at this time of year. You haven’t been to the beach since you were a kid. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to be an asshole. There could be way worse people to fake date or learn about relationships from.

               “No,” You say, “I don’t need any time. I agree.”

PART TWO HERE.

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fics #ateez fics #ateez smut #kpop fic #arrow in the dark #100 notes #500 notes

[circle-with-me]

legs 3x3 please? i’m foaming at the mouth???

you get a little more than three 🤍

Over the time you’ve known each other, you’ve come to realize that Jesse is in love with you. He has to be. No sane person would put up with your bullshit the way he does. But still, you can see the light in his eyes fading every time you leave. Even when you come back there’s an air of tension between the two of you, almost as if he’s dying to ask the question of “How long will you stay this time?”

“What did they do this time, darling?” Jesse asks quietly, taking your hand in his.

#asks #mutuals 🥰 #wips #wip weekend #fic: legs #jesse cash #jesse cash x reader

[cloverstellar]

you’re weedsecure (don’t know what for)

AKA: ROSE AND MAX HAVE A HOMOEROTIC BETRAYAL

oh god. read this at your own risk. I was forced to post this, anyways this was written by yours truly, max @thundercubed, and edited by arson @its-arson-time.

tag list: @faggotinnit, @demonicscreeching

~~~fic under the cut

Rose frowned. The dark, shadowed green vines under her feet curled over the ground like an angry infection. Across the field, standing sullen among the wild grass and weeds, was Max Thundercubed. 

“Rose,” Max called, their voice carrying like a siren’s song across the wind. Even with the distance, Rose couldn’t mistake the crack in their voice, the crumbling of their composure.

“What the fuck do you want, Max? I gave everything to you! You left me with nothing, nothing,” her chest was heaving, burning tears welling up in her throat. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

Max took a shaky step forward, knees nearly buckling as they tried to grapple for the right words. “Rose, wait, please, let me explain—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it!” She took a heavy, anchored step backwards, shaking hands finding their way into her tangled brown hair, “You left me behind to pursue some stupid fucking dream you wouldn’t even share with me—ME!”

Heart in her throat, she waited for an answer to her unsaid question. 

“I threw away everything for my dreams,” Max said, voice gravelly and low.

“Yeah, including me. Was it worth it, asshole? Your world is crumbling under your shaking knees. Look at you! You’re not even seeing yourself!” The barren, dead trees crackled in the heavy wind. “Is this the future you wanted,” she cried, “one where you leave the one person who loved you behind?”

“I left you behind because I didn’t want to ruin your life!” Max gasped, tears pricking at the corners of their eyes. “I knew that my dreams were outlandish, yeah—but I was willing to make that sacrifice because it was my own life. And I couldn’t bear to drag you down with me.” 

Max gritted their teeth and tore a calloused hand through their messy blond hair. “I know I would have. Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise.”

The air fell still. “And what even was ‘that life,’ Max? What was so terrible about your own fucking dreams that you needed to leave me behind? How is something so important to you awful??” 

Rose knelt to the floor, reaching for a sign of life, of anything hopeful, among the dying vines. 

Nothing. She looked up. “Well?”

A gust of wind blew through Max’s curls. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Rose’s eyes widened. Coming from the heavy clouds, a small, indiscreet bag drifted into Max’s hand.

“I wanted to grow weed, Jesse.” 

Silence crackled through the air, so deafening it took the breath out of the gobbler’s lungs. (“they call me the gobbler” -rose)

“Max… who’s Jesse?”

“Your mother,” Max replied without hesitation. “Her name was Jessica, but we called her Jesse. I found the weed seeds in the back of her garden shed. I took them and began planting them when I was 8 years old. Ten years later, my weed empire grows strong.”

A broken gasp fell from Rose’s lips. “By jove.. was she trans?”

“Yes,” Max said, a single tear falling down his cheek. “She was. She bought me my first binder, in fact.”

“Cor blimey, I had no idea…” the vines around Rose began to bloom with life, like she was Rapunzel and the vines were her hair or some shit, “that’s.. the best thing I’ve ever heard! I’m so happy for you Max. Or sad. I think you’re insinuating that Jesse, my mother, is dead. That’s not very swag money cold cash of her.”

“Well you see, that’s a complex issue, because there was an incident involving your grandfather Wilbur and a boiler explosion. It’s kind of like a Schrodinger's cat situation. She’s both alive and dead, and neither at the same time.”

The vines around Rose grew and grew. “You know, that reminds me of that one video I showed you, Max, back when we were both immature kids on the interwebs.”

A vision appeared in the air, displaying an English dubbed clip from season two of popular anime My Hero Academia, and slowly, you can hear audio filter through..

“MOMMY… LOVES ME MORE…”

Max’s eyes widened in horror. “No…it can’t be…

“NO, THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, SHE ALWAYS SPENT MORE TIME WITH ME!”

“NO! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANY LONGER!” Max howled, collapsing to the ground and clamping their hands over their ears. “NOT THE 2021 SLIMECICLE REFERENCE!”

“IT’S BECAUSE… YOU PISS ON THE TOILET!”

Max let out a raw scream of rage and terror so visceral that it was as loud as the brewing storm. Lightning crackled through the air, the sharp tang of petrichor thick in the air.

The storm’s power was so strong it knocked Rose out of the Slimecicle Reference Trance she had fallen into. She woke up to the ringing of “nipple sized fingers,” and “the number one child,” rattling around in her head.

“Ugh,” she sighed, “that was.. for you.. mom.”

Exhausted, she collapsed to the floor, the last thing she saw before passing out was Max’s floating form surrounded by bushels of weed (kinda looking like Todoroki in that literal clip that just played, but with weed). 

In her mind, she could've sworn she could see 3 women, with an aggressive boyfriend, and yes, they smoked weed.

Weed. Buy a premium subscription to ThunderWeed Industries for only $122345654674567.99 a month! Get premium, ethically sourced weed today!

Or don’t do that and give Rose Genlossicle all your money instead for funsies.

Weed is funsies!

No it’s not weed is bad. Penis is funsies. Finger sized nipples are funsies

Gotta agree with you on that. Dick n balls

Weed can be funsies if you weed responsibly

Ok we’re done.

THE END MOTHERFUCKERS

#rose talks #rose writes

[foliosriot]

i’m gonna have time to write some fics in a couple days bc i’ll finally have a few days off from work. so if you would like to be tagged in any of these upcoming wips please comment and be specific! and if you want to be added to a permanent taglist let me know!

you’d be better off on your own pt2 — nick ruffilo

through the looking glass (series) — nick folio

dreamstate — jolly karlsson

cutting it short — vinny mauro

after the show — jesse cash

oh, death — will ramos

(permanent taglist will include all of my future fics. so unless you want to only be tagged for one band or multiple, please specify.)

#future fic #upcoming fic #bad omens fic #vinny mauro fic #will ramos fic #jesse cash fic #𖤐

[lintubintu]

I mostly write Käärijä fics on Ao3:

Käärijä/Tommy Cash:

Splinters (Horror gore, 4 Chapters, 7000 words) - The direct aftermath of the „It´s Crazy It´s Party “ music video

Jere/Jesse:

The Lanyard (fluff, 1350 words) - Jesse is Jere´s tour manager and friend. Will he ever get to be more?

Tapestry (smut, 2850 words, part 1 of 3) – Jesse is done taping setlists to the stage and has his way with Jere.

Single Player None (smut, 3250 words, part 2 of 3) – Jesse is sick and Jere takes care of him on their day off.

Halfway Whole (poem, hurt/comfort, mild gore, 900 words) - Jesse is worrying himself sick and Jere has to step in to help his friend.

Jere/Jukka:

Solid Ground (comfort, fluff, 850 words) – After The Kiss from the Käärijä London gig on 23.10.23

One Night Lies (smut, 2380 words) - Jere has been bothering Jukka all day because of some blisters. If he wants to be a pain, he can sure take some.

Jere/Jari:

A father figured (hurt/comfort, fluff, 1000 words) – Jari & Allu drive Jere home after a strenuous concert.

Jere solo:

I am me (comfort, 1250 words) – Jere finds comfort and growth in expressing himself through makeup

Käärijä/OFC:

Birds (humour, light smut, 2 chapters, 3150 words) – First they share a toilet, then they share a bed.

WIPs:

Part 3 of Jere/Jesse (smut)

Jere/Jesse (cozy fluff)

Jere/Häärijä (smut, dom Häärijä)

Jere/Nace (hurt/comfort)

Käärija/reader (bite kink, not explicit)

Jere/Tommy Cash (cannibalism, gore)

I don´t take requests right now.

#käärijä #kaarija #fanfiction #käärijä fanfiction #ao3

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 ; 𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐱 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!! disclaimer before we start this girliez !!

it's gonna be a multi-part fic

it's based on the movie (i read about the band's and nikki's life, but it'd be complicated)

fem!reader will be half russian and half of another nation (you can insert yours here)

it's gonna have some TW parts as cussing, drugs, sex, miscarriage, depression so please read with caution!!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏.

word count: 2.308k trigger warning: cursing, pole dance, smoking

1981, hollywood, sunset boulevard

♡ 𝐘/𝐍 ♡

the fake lashes tickled her eyes as one of her colleagues helped her to ruffle up her hair, well, if you can name the other girls who pole dances with you in a night club 'colleagues'.

"i fucking hate this shit" she muttered, putting lipstick on her lips. jessica, the girl who helped her shrugged her shoulders.

"when you're done with that, you can go off with a guy. old men pays way much more then the broke, skinny rock and roll wannabe-ones."

"it's a good idea jess, but i want to use my young years, and maybe get a normal relationship." y/n knew that this decade had its own fuckboys, just like the teddy-boys in the 60s with long coats and hair with much gale, and the hippies in the 70s with those fucking irritating and bad-looking flares and too much color, and now... they had log hair, black clothes and bulked up with studs, now just on their clothes, but on their face, too. sometimes it was fucking disgusting, even worse than punks, but other times, it was pleasant dig into a boy's long hair while he ate her out.

"your choice, baby. two minutes and simon will come in, so prepare yourself." simon was the guy who talked with them; when to go to the stage and when their shift ended, handing out the girls' 'salaries' to them, always in cash, of course. dancing here wasn't her first option; y/n wanted to go to somewhere, where an audience could tell that she had a good voice, or just tell her to fuck off, getting into dancing and singing, acting universities were difficult and expensive to get in. but since she had to pay the bills in the house she shared with two other girls, collecting money wasn't that easy.

in two hours, she was dancing in the big area on the counter, letting men tuck money into her panties and throw it in the front of her legs. shaking and crawling her body to the music, she almost completely shut the world out from her own world. at least she could dance, and she liked dancing, as soon as...

a bolting light shone through the bar. it was impossible to miss that is was a camera light. what the fuck, she turned and saw a couple of guys standing there, making pictures in front of where she was dancing.

"the guys will be so jealous when they're gonna see this! okay, brad, could you-"

"what the fuck do you think are you doing?" y/n stopped dancing, getting their attention.

"just making some pictures, don't worry, babe."

"don't fucking babe me! you can't take pictures here, do you understand?" she hollered, climbing down from the counter.

"could you take a picture about us with your friend in the back? or could you call down her?"

y/n snatched the camera from them.

"if you don't fuck off, i'm gonna trash this piece of shit."

"i'd listen to the girl." two other guy stepped in, they had long hair just like the rockers they probably listened to. one of them, the curlier and brown one carried a drumstick with himself, tucked into his belt.

"sorry, but what the fuck are you?" fuckface brad's one friend asked him.

"just a guy who walks in here from time to time and doesn't break the rules."

"i don't fucking care, could you please go away? we have to take some pictures, give me back that shit!"

"this?" y/n asked, looking at the camera, then, with her heart stomping in her chest, she trashed it down to the ground, breaking it into thousands of pieces. the fuckfaces got shocked.

"are you fucking mad?!"

"you deserved it anyway", the drumstick-boy's friend said, but the next moment, y/n got a punch into her face, crashing into the counter where people stood before it. looking up, she felt something warm running down to her lips, but instead of crying being hurt, she grabbed the nearest bottle she could find, breaking it, she successfully scratched the boy's arm.

"fuck you!" she screamed, aggressively waving the bottle in front of her. "fuck off, right now, motherfuckers!"

"y/n, what the fuck are you doing?" simon got in the picture. y/n looked around; some of the guests and jessica stared at them, the rocker boys stopped punching the other two guy as she fretted the third of them with a broken bottle. "if you do it again, you are gonna get fired!"

the girl looked at him, laughing, grabbing as much as money she could.

"yeah? then you won't gonna get the chance to fire me, because i quit! fuck you, simon, and fuck everybody in this craphole! i'm done!" screaming, she walked back to collect her things. not saying a word to anyone, carrying her clothes and her wallet, she walked beside simon, pushing his shoulder with hers as he tried to talk with her. but now, she was mad and unstoppable.

"you can never go back here if you quit now!" simon yelled to her as she stood at the door, now everybody staring at them.

"you know what simon?" she asked, licking her lips. iron from blood. with money in one hand, she dropped her things for a second and showed up both of her middle fingers.

turning around, she left the place that was her second place to go, but not her second home. out the door, she saw that people were staring into the bar, probably they heard the fight.

"hey dude! give me a fucking cigarette." getting one, they lit it to her.

"do you know what happened? we heard yelling and screaming." a woman asked, y/n nodded, blowing out the smoke.

"yeah, it was me. and don't come here, because the motherfuckers replace half of the whiskey with water." then walking away, she sat down on the side of the road, smoking the stick between her lips as she put on her skirts, top and her jacket. she couldn't think about what's gonna be with her. there was always a place for a crawling, dancing girl who could dress up as a slut.

"hey, are you okay?"

turning around, it was the same two guy who tried to defend her. she couldn't blame them, she blamed the brad-kinda assholes. holding the cig with her hand now, she bit her lip.

"except that the fact that now i'm jobless, that my face hurts and got rearranged, i'm pretty good, thanks." they sat down beside her.

"we're sorry for what happened. but we beat them up."

"you were cool, too! with that broken bottle. i'm tommy, by the way, and he's nikki."

"i can talk myself too, tom."

"i'm y/n. and that's my job... well, was."

"sorry that we couldn't stop it." nikki looked at her. he had pretty, green eyes, not the ones she could see everyday.

"don't worry, it was just a matter of time. otherwise, if i have to handle those three, maybe i'd be in jail now. and i hate this shit", she added, tearing down the fake lashes.

"would you actually stab them?" tommy asked.

"of course. if they break the rules, i break them head." at that, the two of them looked each other. "what? you don't meet girls everyday who smash others for being a motherfucker?"

"no, most of my girlfriends cry and scream, or throw something at me." tommy shrugged his shoulders. "i'm gonna borrow some cigs, do y'all want some?"

"yes, please." y/n said, and nikki nodded, also. now, it was just the two of them. she turned to the guy.

"and you? any troubled girl?" he shook his head.

"not one yet. but an upcoming band, and it's gonna be fire."

"upcoming band? you drive in bands?"

"yeah. but the last one was shit, it was called london."

"bands with names of towns never work, didn't anybody tell you that before?" nikki laughed at her question. "well, now you know. and any plans about the new one?"

"it's gonna be... the best band you've ever seen. but i still need some members in it, now i only have tommy. so tell me, can you sing?"

it this the hand of fate? y/n was far too much played to believe in some guy's promises and questions.

"well, nobody wanted to beat me when i was carousing in my rent." laughing at this, nikki turned to her.

"maybe if you can really sing, i'll count a frontwoman into my band."

"frontwoman? don't joke with me." y/n shook her head at his words.

"why would i joke? why do you think it's a joke?"

"because i got fucked up by some people before, and i don't believe to empty promises. see, i'll go there, and if the band is cool, then i'm in."

tommy came back, handing the cigarettes to them, showing up a bottle alcohol.

"guys, i found this on the ground, it's only half empty!" he said, making y/n grimace.

"watch out, maybe it's piss. happens a lot of time." the two guy laughed again.

"were did you learn these comments?" tommy asked. y/n shrugged her shoulders, letting nikki light her cigarette.

"anywhere. i spent my childhood with people i learned a lot from."

"were you in orphanage?" nikki asked, and she nodded. another piece of ash falling to the ground.

"kinda. i grew up in sacramento, and getting out from it, i came here."

"that's fine. i sent my mother into jail, but she was an asshole anyway." nikki added, making y/n pull up her eyebrows, nodding approvingly.

"hard."

"do you wanna go to party? tommy?" the guy asked, tommy shook his head.

"sorry, but i gotta be home. i think that girl broke up with me, but anyway, it was nice to meet you, y/n."

"see you again, toms."

"how so?"

"your friend just invited me to sing in his upcoming band, the one that never anybody has seen before." she teased nikki.

"wow, that's cool! i thought we're gonna have a guy, but that's okay."

"can't i be as good as a guy?" she asked back, making tommy look at nikki. "whatever, it's only a trial."

as tommy got away, y/n finished her second cigarette. "it was a pleasure to meet you, nikki, but i gotta search for a new place to work."

"really?"

"why? until 4am, they're open. it's not a big deal."

"come and party with me instead of it. or just sit down and talk, hm?" the girl smiled at this, rolling her eyes.

"are you trying to fuck me? other guys just pay me the drinks and help me to get to the bathroom."

"no, i just wanna get to know more about you. you're probably not pure american, judging by your accent." nikki answered, helping her stand up. y/n looked at him.

"it's true that i'm a half-blood. half russian, half (y/na). every cop asks for my id, everybody thinks that i'm a fucking illegal immigrant, but i'm just as an american citizen as this fucking ford!" she said, pointing at the car beside them.

"fuck the police anyway. and... you said that you were a foster kid, how so?"

"i don't want to talk about it. besides, not everybody's choice to get their parents int jail."

the truth was that her mother was truly an illegal immigrant, and in the short half and a year she was in the states, she got pregnant with her from a fellow guy she met with. when y/n was born, her mother had a beautiful, lovely six months with her baby, but then, one day the police knocked on her door. having no father and living in a mother's home, it was an instant way to get into orphanage.

"i'm sorry about that. do you want to forget these things with some booze?" nikki asked as they turned down on the road.

"do you have an actual place to live?" she asked him.

"do you have a place to stay?" nikki asked back.

"hell yeah, just because i'm stated as a slut by the society, i'm not a homeless one!" y/n spread her arms beside them, almost slapping a guy. they both laughed at that. "lead me to your place."

"right away, princess." he replied, setting his arm around her shoulder. "can i?" nikki looked at her, y/n looked up to her from her real eyelashes.

"what?"

"people can think that we're going up to me to fuck." y/n laughed, shrugging her free shoulder.

"and do i look like i give a fuck about what they think?"

♡ 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐊𝐈 ♡

y/n could be only one girl from all those who he met through the years, but she wasn't. he was unsure about that he really should invite her to the band, because if they really would get famous, everybody would bully her do death. and maybe she wouldn't get it on herself, but he would blow up from all the shit she'd get. looking at her, he only knew her a couple hours ago, but the way she protected herself from the creeps in the bar in underwear, the way she talked, she could be a pure ghetto chick, but she was more than that. it was like... she born into the wrong place, wanting to be more than she was now.

"is something bad? or are you just thinking?" she asked him.

"what? no, i just hope that i locked the windows before i started the night."

"i fancy the simple fact that you are a guy who is capable of thinking."

he wasn't a fan of fast and strong emotions, but if she doesn't stop replying sarcastically, he's gonna marry her.

it was just a matter of time...

...and tons of drugs, music and trouble.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓.

a/n: i gotta get into writing since i just got back, but i hope you still like it. if you want to get on the taglist, dm, comment or write here

take care and stay safe girliez

#nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx smut #mötley crüe #motley crue imagine #motley crue x reader #motley crue #douglas booth #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars

[thefallennightmare]

I’m sliding in the DM’s late and I’m so sorry 🫣 but I saw Monday Headcannon’s and I had to swoop in and put in a lil request for my citrus king Jesse Cash 🍊🎸 Leaving the direction totally up to you because I know that your brilliant self will come up with absolute gold no matter what!🫶🏻

Also, I’m sure you have a ton of requests and have been working all day, so no pressure or anything! I’ve been catching up and swooning over the headcannons you’ve posted through out the day and just wanted to drop my lil Jesse simp paper in the request box if you were willing/had time!❤️

For you(@burning-outx) and Jesse Cash, I'll always have time! Don't worry about sliding in too late, I'm up anyway watching a movie.

Also, thank you for giving me the honor of writing my first Jesse Cash fic. I'm so fucking excited. I've decided to go the route of when you and Jesse met for the first time.

You were standing outside the venue when Jesse spotted you for the first time. Erra just finished playing their set and he needed a few moments of the chilly night air to cool his burning skin.

You were leaning against the old brick of the building, talking with your friends about how amazing the show was and how alive Erra made you feel while they played.

Jesse thought you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, one look at you and it took his breath away. He nearly stumbled back into the doorway.

Your laugh infected him in the best way possible. The way your entire face lit up when you smiled made something twinge low in his gut. Jesse didn't want to disrupt you talking with your friends but he needed to hear your voice, see that smile up close.

So when he noticed that you dropped your wallet, trying to make sure you had all your belongings, he took it as the opportunity he needed.

"Excuse me," his soft voice broke through the night air after your friends had left. "You dropped this."

Your eyes widened when you realized the man you'd been swooning over all night was handing you your wallet. Never in a million years would you have thought this moment would happen.

"Thank you," you breathed.

Jesse shifted on his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So, did you like the show?"

You spoke with him for a few minutes, explaining how you've seen Erra a handful of times, and each time, they get better and better.

You didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened at the compliment.

When you made a comment about needing to head to your car down the block, Jesse offered to walk you.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. You must be busy."

"Not at all. I would feel better knowing that you made it safe."

With a nod, your heart hammering in your chest, the two of you walked side by side down the block toward your car, conversation between the two of you flowing easily; almost as if you'd known each other for years.

Every so often, your hand would graze over his sending shock waves through your body.

Unfortunately, you reached your car way too fast much to your dismay and you weren't quite ready to say goodbye.

The last handful of minutes, it didn't feel like you were talking to Jesse Cash, the guitar player of Erra. It just felt like you were talking to Jesse Cash, the simple guy.

For the first time in a long time, Jesse felt at ease talking with someone and didn't have to worry about if they wanted him for something other than what he could offer.

While adjusting his glasses, Jesse cleared his throat. "I know this might seem a bit forward but could I possibly get your number? If you're alright with that."

You couldn't help but giggle at how cute he looked while nervous but nodded with a wide smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Once numbers were exchanged, you still weren't quite ready to say goodbye. You were feeling bold. Clearly, he had some sort of feelings because he asked for your number.

"This might seem a bit forward," you repeated his words back to him, taking a step closer and titling your lips up to him. "But if it's alright with you I'd really like to kiss you."

You asked the question but it was Jesse who softly pinned you to the car, crashing his lips to yours.

He tasted sweet and citrusy, like oranges, and you hummed in delight when your tongue molded together perfectly.

It was the kind of kiss that was heavy and desperate for more, but Jesse didn't want to push you any farther than you felt comfortable with.

Pulling away breathlessly, he leaned his forehead against yours. "I guess I'll talk to you soon?"

With a Chesire cat grin, you nodded. "Definitely."

You left him with another kiss before slipping inside of your car, him watching you drive away, his own smile on his face.

Fuck, you were so glad you agreed to go with your friends to the show tonight.

#tina talks #the fallen nightmare headcannons #jesse cash #jesse cash headcannons #jesse cash x reader #erra #jesse cash reader headcannons